Tethered (Flawed Love Book 4) Read online

  TETHERED

  FLAWED LOVE #4

  EMMA LOUISE

  COPYRIGHT© 2020 TETHERED BY EMMA LOUISE

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. TETHERED is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.

  COVER DESIGN BY EMMA LOUISE

  EDITING AND INTERIOR DESIGN BY SILLA WEBB-MASQUE OF THE RED PEN

  COPYRIGHT© 2020 TETHERED BY EMMA LOUISE

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  NOTE FROM AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  MORE FROM EMMA LOUISE

  ALSO AVAILABLE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  We are all broken, that’s how the light gets in.

  -Ernest Hemingway

  PROLOGUE

  LUCY

  “Do you ever think about us?”

  The second the words leave my lips, I wish I could grab them and stuff them back in. I can’t look over at where TJ sits beside me. Instead, I watch the party going on around us. The people milling about, completely unaware that my world is spinning out of control.

  I’ve been watching them for the last hour, unable to rip my gaze away. TJ and Breeze, with their son. The spot they’ve picked to sit is slightly removed from the rest of the party. They’re so absorbed in one another; they don’t even seem to realize they’re surrounded by people.

  Envy sits heavily in my belly. It should be me sitting there. Shouldn’t it?

  TJ and I were over before we ever began, so I don’t know why these feelings have been inescapable lately.

  I thought we were done. The things we’d done to each other, the things we’d said; there was no going back from any of that, was there?

  So why am I standing here, wishing it was me sitting in that chair instead of Breeze?

  Why do I wish it was me cradling Abel and holding TJ’s hand?

  “Yeah, Luce. I do,” TJ finally answers, but I can tell by his tone that the last thing he wants to be doing is talking to me right now. “You fucked me up.” The words are like needles piercing through me. It takes everything in me not to break down.

  “Where’s this coming from?” he asks, interrupting the thick silence hanging between us.

  Where did it come from? I wish I knew. It isn’t like I planned this.

  “I don’t know,” I finally manage to say. I don’t look at him. Instead, I keep my eyes on my fingers as they pick at the label on the beer bottle I’m gripping tightly. “I guess somewhere in the back of my mind, I always thought it would be me.” My voice is barely audible, part of me hoping he won’t hear the words. “I thought that when you pulled your head out of your ass, we’d find a way to make it work.”

  “Luce—” I don’t let him speak. I know nothing good is going to come from this, but obviously I’m some kind of masochist for starting this ridiculous scene.

  “I know.” I sigh. “I moved on first. I met Scott, and I told you I was done, but there was always that tiny little seed in my mind. I thought it would be us in the end.”

  “I thought I loved you, and I thought I'd lost it all when I lost you,” TJ says softly, and that’s almost worse than the animosity I’m used to being there between us.

  “You thought you loved me?” I can’t help but ask, even knowing how much the answer will hurt to hear.

  “It wasn’t until I met Breeze that I realized how wrong I was. I thought I loved you. But I know now it was just infatuation. I stood by and watched you live your life from the sideline, Luce. That’s not love, and that’s not an option with Bree. I want to be a part of it. No, I need to be a part of it. I thought getting over you would be easy with plenty to drink and other women. The thought of touching anyone but Breeze leaves me cold. Damn, I stood here in this very backyard and shook Scott’s hand, for fuck sake. If Bree ever tried that shit, I’d be locked up for murder.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged all this crap up,” I stammer, the tears clogging my throat and making it hard to get the words out coherently. “Scott and I, we’re going through some stuff. It'll be fine. I’ll be fine.” I pause, dragging in a deep breath. “I guess seeing you settled down, happy, it threw me for a minute.”

  “I don’t know what’s happening with you guys, but if you need anything at all, even just someone to listen, I'm here,” TJ says, and the pity that laces his words is almost enough to push me over the edge. I can’t fall apart here, not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.

  I block out the rest of what TJ says as I try my hardest to compose myself. It takes longer than I’d like, but once I manage to beat back the tears that threaten to fall, I climb out of the chair.

  I allow myself one last touch, squeezing TJ’s hand in mine before I turn to walk away. I don’t know what it is that makes me stop, but I find myself looking back toward the man I once thought would be mine

  “I’m happy for you. She’s perfect for you and Abel. You have a beautiful family.”

  I turn and walk away. TJ is the past. I already knew that, but it seems I must be some kind of masochist and needed that fact hammered home today.

  CHAPTER ONE

  LUCY

  “Fuzzy holes?” Standing on the sidewalk, I stare up at the gaudy neon light that flashes above the squat, warehouse-style building the cab just left us outside of. “I know you work here, but really?” Turning to look at my oldest friend Rina, I give her my best ‘What the fuck?’ look. “You brought me to a strip club?”

  “You said you wanted a girls’ night.” She shrugs. “Sugar, I bet you fifty bucks you’ll have the most fun ever here tonight.” She gives me a grin, grabs my hand, and yanks me toward the door. “Come on.” Rina giggles as she links her arm with mine and drags me to the front of the line of people waiting to get in. There are two huge doormen standing in the entrance. One of them is easily the biggest guy I’ve ever seen, and not just tall; he’s muscles on top of muscles. He’s easily the biggest guy I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something considering I work in a gym that trains MMA fighters.

  But it’s the guy on his right who catches my eye. He’s not as tall as muscles, but he’s still well over six-foot-tall. His dark hair is shaved on the sides, the longer part swept back from his handsome
face. He’s wearing a tight black shirt, and I can see the edge of some tattoos at his neck. Both his hands are inked too. He wears a neatly trimmed beard on his jaw, and I wouldn’t normally find that attractive, but there’s something about this guy that I’m liking. A lot. He barely spares me a glance, so I guess he doesn’t feel the same. Good, I think to myself. The last thing I need is more man problems in my life.

  “Rina,” Muscles drawls as we approach. His eyes crawl all over her body, completely ignoring me; thank God. He gives me the creeps. I can’t say I blame him for gawking, though; my friend is stunning. Long legs, tiny waist, and long golden hair. She’s like a real-life Barbie doll.

  “Hey, Eddie.” She smiles sweetly as we pass by, but I can see how fake it is. “Lucas,” she practically purrs at the bearded guy I was just staring at. “Looking good tonight.”

  Rina and I became friends after she started a pole dance-fitness class at Flex, the gym I’ve been managing for the last few years. We’ve become close over the last few months, but this is the first time I’ve agreed to join her on a night out.

  Coming to a strip club isn’t exactly what I had in mind, though. Judging by the name, I’d assume Fuzzy Holes would be a seedy place, but it’s actually not all that bad. The walls are a deep blood red, and huge black and white photographs line the walls. I look closer and see they’re pictures of naked bodies, zoomed in so close you don’t immediately realize what you’re looking at. The back wall is dominated by a long bar that runs the length of the room. The wood is so dark it looks black. There’s one main stage that has blood red drapes at the back, a shiny silver pole in the center, and two smaller stages frame each side.

  Rina leads us to a booth at the back of the room just as the lights dim, and a beautiful woman struts on stage, moving seductively to “Gorilla” by Bruno Mars. The heavy beat pulses through the room. It’s not the soft rock stereotype I was expecting. It’s actually kinda classy.

  I’ve watched women dance before, heck, I’ve even taken a few pole dancing lessons myself. But there’s something about the way she moves up there that is utterly mesmerizing. She moves in time with the beat perfectly, her lithe limbs wrapping around the pole as she executes a series of spins that have every eye in the room trained on her and only her. The main lights are dimmed; just a muted spotlight follows her as she moves. The black lace bodysuit she’s wearing is little more than a series of straps that cover her in the important places. She doesn’t take it off, doesn’t even show a nipple, but she still has every man in here rapt with attention. The dancer executes a dizzying spin from the top of the pole just as the last strains of the song sound out. The silence lasts a second before there’s a ripple of applause and a flurry of dollars get thrown onto the stage. She’s gone by the time the lights come back up, but the electric vibe hangs around in the air as the next dancer takes the stage. This one is good too, but she doesn’t hold everyone’s attention in quite the same way. Conversation starts up again, the room buzzing with excitement after the show we were all treated to.

  “Have you ever considered stripping?” One of Rina’s stripper friends, Heaven, asks as she tops up my shot glass again. I've already had four shots of tequila, and I’m feeling comfortably numb.

  “You’d make a killing with those tits.”

  “Leave her alone.” Rina giggles. “She’s out to mend a broken heart, not to look for a job.”

  “Who would be stupid enough to break your heart, pretty girl?” Heaven asks, and I’m sure she’s flirting with me.

  “My boyfriend told me he ‘needed space’ because work was busy, and he didn’t have time for me, blah blah blah,” I tell her, making sure to emphasize the words with finger quotes. “Guess he forgot to remove me from his Facebook because a week later I get a notification that he’s in a relationship. And it wasn’t with me,” I mutter, throwing back another shot.

  “He did not,” Heaven gasps in shock, and her eyebrows quirk into her hairline.

  “Mmmhmm,” I confirm, refilling all of our glasses. “So, of course, he was cheating on me. I did a little digging around and found his Tinder account. He was on it the whole time we were together.” Stopping to throw back yet another shot, I find Heaven staring at me with rapt attention, waiting for the rest of the story.

  “Show her what you did.” Rina giggles from next to me. I pull out my phone and scroll through the pictures, looking for the screenshot of Scott’s profile page.

  “I guessed his password and made a few changes.” Shrugging, I pass the phone over for Heaven to see. She reads for a few seconds before she bursts into a loud hoot of laughter.

  “Oh girl, you are a badass!” she says, wiping a tear of laughter from under her eye. “Scott Judd.” She reads what’s on the screen. “Thirty-four-years-old, but he’ll tell you he’s twenty-nine. Mama’s boy with a receding hairline. Didn’t lose his virginity until he was twenty-three, and it shows.”

  I can’t help but laugh along with the others, even though the pain of being cheated on is still fresh. He had me fooled. I thought he was one of the good guys; all my friends thought he was one of the good guys too. When I found out what he’d done, I closed down, retreated into myself. There are only so many hits a person can take before they become permanently dented.

  “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Rina says, pulling me out of those depressing thoughts of Scott and the shit he pulled. I’m so grateful she’s here for me, that she pushed me to do this tonight. I needed a break away from the wallowing I’ve been doing the last few weeks.

  “To Lucy!” Heaven shouts, standing from her seat and raising her shot glass in the air in a salute. “You know what they say—if you can’t get over him, find a new one to get under instead!”

  My eyes immediately fly over to the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of the hot guy guarding the door. A few more of these drinks and I might start thinking Heaven is onto something with that toast.

  ***

  “Oh my God,” I groan as a sharp shaft of sunlight stabs me in the eye when I try to prise a lid open.

  I must be dead.

  Nobody can feel this awful and still be alive. It’s not possible.

  Dropping my head back to the mound of pillows, I try to yank the duvet over me to block out the offensive light. I can’t get the blanket to move, so I roll over expecting to find my cat weighing it down.

  What I actually find is a broad, tattooed, very naked male laying right next to me.

  My body freezes in place as my still imbibed brain struggles to catch up to what it’s seeing.

  What the fuck did I do?

  Memories of last night slam into me.

  Tequila.

  All the tequila.

  Rina talking me into going to the strip club she works at. Fuzzy Holes. I stifle a groan at the memory of my attempts to flirt with the hot guy working the door. The guy who looked suspiciously similar to the one in my bed right now.

  After that there was more tequila and lots of laughter. Dancing. The one thing I don’t remember is leaving with someone.

  Jesus. How drunk was I? I shift out of bed, moving as gently as possible to avoid waking my unexpected guest. I slide down to the floor before getting onto all fours and crawling my way across the room.

  I’m going to kill Rina for letting me get into this situation. Let’s go for a quiet drink, my ass.

  I’m a successful, thirty-year-old woman. How the fuck has my life turned into this shit show?

  Once I’ve made it to the bathroom and locked myself inside, I finally take a deep breath.

  It's fine. I can do this. I brought a guy home, so what?

  People do this all the time.

  I’ve never had a one-night stand and never judged anyone who has, but my lack of control last night scares me. I’ve never gotten blackout drunk before, and it’s not a good feeling.

  Turning on the shower, I leave it to warm up while I brush away the stale alcohol taste from my mouth. That’s when I get a go
od look at myself.

  “Oh sweet Jesus!” Not only did I wake up feeling like death, I look like it too. My wavy brown hair is a wild mess of knots and tangles, and what’s left of last night’s mascara is halfway down my cheeks. My deep brown eyes are dull and bloodshot. I’m a hot mess.

  Is that fucking beard burn on my face?

  Once my teeth are clean and my mouth feels a little less like something died in it, I step under the hot spray, letting the water massage the tension from my neck. It probably isn’t sensible for me to leave a stranger asleep in my bed, but I’m too hungover to care. Grabbing a loofah, I soap it up and scrub away my mistakes. That’s when I notice the ache between my legs. The tender spots on my breasts. The marks on my thighs that look a lot like finger impressions.

  The truth that I’ve been avoiding since I woke up hits me.

  I had sex last night. With a stranger. A guy whose name I’m not sure I even remember.

  White hot shame hits me. I can tell myself all day long that it’s normal, that I'm allowed to be sexually adventurous with whomever I choose, but it’s not normal for me. I’ve never done anything like it, and I’m struggling to process how I should feel now.

  I’ve always been a relationship kinda girl. I had the same boyfriend through high school and most of college. Then a few short-term boyfriends, whatever the mess was with TJ, and a year-long relationship with Scott. Call me old-fashioned, but I like being committed to one person.

  I stay under the warm water longer than necessary, hoping that by the time I get out mystery man will be gone.

  Then hopefully I can forget this whole thing ever happened.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ASA

  Waking up in an unfamiliar bed isn’t exactly a new thing for me. However, waking up satisfied and in no rush to sneak out is.

  Last night was ... interesting. Working the door of a strip club, I’ve seen my fair share of beautiful women, but I noticed Lucy as soon as she stepped out of the cab behind Rina. Long dark shiny hair, stunning face, and legs that looked like they went on for days, even without the four-inch heels on her feet.