The Carrero Effect Trilogy - Chapter #8 - Free To Read

Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

I stand in the shower for an unbelievably long time. The hot water pouring down me refreshingly helps to push the nausea down. I'm aching at everything so familiar about being here, so many memories and thoughts of Jake beside me. I feel like I've woken inside a dream, some strange alternate reality I never left, and this feels like where I should be. It's disconcerting and doesn't help my emotionally confused state of mind at all.

Fully cleansed of my shameful drunken night and drying myself, I can hear noise in the apartment. The sound of music drifting through the walls, and I know Jake must be back. I pause for a moment listening to the faint drifting of one of his favorite songs and the sound of a juicer going in the kitchen, emotion swirling in apprehension in my stomach. I'm nervous about being with him, being alone, and facing him.

I pull on an oversized white bathrobe and wander cautiously out to the large open-plan lounge, looking around for him, holding my breath. I'm like a jittery teen going on a first date.

He has his back to me, dressed in a fresh T-shirt and jeans, and seems to be making a smoothie or some healthy drink. The blender is going strong, so he doesn't hear me approach. I can't help but watch how his strong, wide shoulders move and flex under his body-hugging T-shirt or how his arms and biceps tense and grow with every bend and stretch. His masculine mannerisms, strong with effortless ease and grace, are the signs of a man confident in himself without the malice of cocky arrogance.

I must admit, he's the perfect specimen of manly form. Just the thought of it makes me depressed. Every nerve in my body is torn between lust and betrayal, I want him, yet I don't. I long for his touch, yet I know it will only bring me pain. I miss those arms and hands on me, but I know having them back would break me.

The machine stops, and I watch from the other side of the counter as he pours half into a tall glass before turning my way with a flicker of surprise.

"Hey, didn't hear you coming through." He smiles in his shy and charmingly beautiful way; it has the same effect on me that it always has. I clamp my knees together as a wave of hot warmth rushes through my veins.

Seems he hasn't lost that ability over me anyway.

"Here, your favorite smoothie. I figured you may need it, seeing as you haven't eaten anything yet." He nods toward the plate of croissants on the counter, now covered in plastic wrap. I take the tall glass, carefully avoiding his hand so we don't touch, and smile shyly. I pull my robe tighter across my chest and slide onto the bar stool trying with every ounce of self-control to stop trembling and acting as awkward as hell.

"Thanks. Not sure I can drink it right now, but I'll try." I take a sip of the forest fruits, mango, and banana smoothie, touched that he would do it for me; but I gasp and swallow hard when the bile rises from my stomach. I put my drink down grimly and hold my throat until the nausea calms down.

"Maybe just water?" He nods at me with a slight frown before getting me a glass of iced water from the machine on the refrigerator.

There's a weird quiet atmosphere as he watches me sip. Tension and awkwardness, as though neither of us knows what to say first. I turn away from him and around the room to find something to rest my eyes on that isn't six feet two, sexy as hell, with an ability to break me into a million pieces. I can feel his body heat across the kitchen bar and the tingle of electricity in the air. Drawn back to him like a moth to a flame. I glance up and down at his fresh clothes and know for a fact he never came into his room for them. I motion with my glass at his attire shyly.

"Why are you keeping clothes in the guest rooms?" I ask gently, confused by this unusual fact. He frowns at me for a moment before answering.

"Because I can't bear to be in there." He nods toward his bedroom. "Without you … I had Nora move some of my things so I wouldn't need to go there at all." He looks down at his hands awkwardly. I flinch like he's just sucker-punched me in the stomach. It's such a painful response. We look away from each other instantly.

"I see." I choke back the tears threatening to break loose and clear my throat to try to shift them away again.

"I brought you something to wear when I took Sarah home. The bag is by the bedroom door." He nods toward the pink hold-all that belongs to Sarah, changing the subject quickly, and I smile gratefully; only Jake would've had that kind of foresight.

"Figured you would keep me in that dress if you had a choice," I smirk at him and catch the tension in his face, ease a little. Trying to lighten the heavy mood I created with my question.

"I would have, but I think it needs dry cleaning first. You smelled like a brewery last night." His devilish smile melts the pain in my heart slightly, and I slide off the chair. Jake's trying for the light, easy humor we used to have. It's a little warming and helps with easing my nerves.

"I think I'll go get dressed. I don't feel too comfortable like this." I point out an instant pain in my heart at the hint of disappointment across his face. Jake used to love me in nothing more than bathrobes, easy to peel apart and access me underneath. This is a sign of how things are between us, and without trying to wound him, I have.

"I'll be here." He throws on a brave smile that doesn't reach his eyes. I nod and move off, grabbing the bag as I pass, trying to remove the spike wedging itself in my heart.

* * *

He chose one of my casual 'lounging at home' outfits, whether it was deliberate or Sarah had chosen it, but I'm comfortable. I feel much better dressed in leggings and a silky camisole under a long, oversized cashmere jumper. I pull on the long thick socks, leaving them wrinkled at my ankles. They're my much-needed hugs from clothes I would've chosen myself.

The nausea, headache, and overwhelming hangover are still lingering, but that constant hunger I seem to have is starting to battle with it, urging me to eat after all. I'm unsure how well it'll go down, but I'm ravenous despite what awaits me out in the kitchen.

I pad out into the lounge and see Jake hovering in the kitchen, messing with the expensive coffee maker and filling up the small compartments. I never see much of his domesticated side when Nora is around, but he shows his competence on the rare occasions she has a day off.

He turns with a timid smile, sensing my presence, and puts down the packets he's holding. We both know it's time we talked and stopped evading this. I walk past him, retrieve the smoothie from the fridge, and take a proper drink, and he smiles at my efforts.

"Do you want to sit here or in our room?" His gentleness makes me waver; he's still calling it 'our' room, and I can't trust myself not to fall under his spell almost instantly if we were near that bed.

"The couch." I nod in the direction of the white leather and chrome behind him, and with trembling legs, I make my way to the padded seat and sit down, hating the tension that has suddenly thickened in the space between us.

I push around some of the fluffy cushions I picked out a few weeks ago, nervous anticipation and stomach butterflies returning, and nestle myself near the side table so I can put my glass down. I haven't upchucked it yet, surprisingly, it seems to be soothing my stomach. The aspirin is helping my head a little.

He waits, then sits near me, still giving me space. His whole body is turned to me, focusing solely on my face. This close, I can almost feel his touch. His smell is intoxicating, and his nearness is a little too suffocating. I tip my head down, letting my damp hair cover me, suddenly aware of how tired and pale I must look.

I don't want him to see me this way. I should've worn make-up or paid more attention to my appearance earlier!

"You look beautiful, Neonata," he says, almost as though he can read my mind. I swallow hard as the lump of emotion threatens to rise through my throat at the fact that he always knows.

Is there another human being alive so effortlessly in tune with me? Who always says just what I need to hear?

"I look tired and awful," I reply quietly. "I haven't been sleeping a whole lot lately." I bring my hands to the hem of the cozy long jumper dress, fiddling with the soft wool, and chew my lip. Now I'm here beside him and ready to get this out. I don't know what to say or how to say it; I don't even know what I want.

"Makes two of us." His voice is lighter, and without looking up, I can tell he's staring at me with his beautifully gorgeous green eyes.

God, I miss him so much.

Even his smell and closeness are aiding wounds that have opened over the last few days. The eternal despair and loneliness that consumed me are fading with his mere presence and him being his normal gentle self. I can almost forget the past few days of unbearable loneliness.

"You hurt me." It's the only thing I can think of to say to get this in the direction it needs to go. I'm so used to Jake leading conversations that involve feelings but not this time. I need him to understand what I'm feeling and thinking and not let it bubble inside me.

"I know … I hate myself right now, Emma. You have to believe me. If I could go back and stop it, I would, in a heartbeat." He shifts closer, his leg on the couch, so he's fully turned to me. I can't bring myself to turn to him, tears welling inside me now that we're doing this. "I can't function without you … I miss you like crazy, Bambina, and I'm losing my mind not being able to touch you." His nearness causes waves of tingles and cold to run over me, my body as confused as my mind, turning into a chaos of mixed signals. Lust, fear, longing, defiance, love, hate, heartbreak. I've no idea what to feel about him.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive what you did." A silent tear rolls down my cheek. "I trusted you." I lift my hand, tangling my fingers into my hair, turning the strand, and twisting it absent-mindedly, trying to focus on something else rather than the erupting chaos inside me. Jake leans out over me automatically, taking my hand in his, and slides the last gap between us, holding my hand to his chest and over his heart. His touch is searing yet comforting but pushes the vision of his hand on her into my head, and I pull it away as though it's been scolded. He says nothing and doesn't react but sighs gently, accepting that I can't have him holding my hand.

"I'll spend the rest of my life trying to earn it back … I'll do anything, Emma. I'll go anywhere. If you want me to cut all ties with her, then I will." His voice only holds strong conviction.

"What about the baby?" I croak, my heart thudding like a war drum. I can't look at him when he's sitting so close, but I can feel his eyes burning into me, devouring me.

"If you asked me to walk away from that too, I would. I know how bad it will be for us to have that connection with her. All I want is you back in my arms, Emma." He leans closer, almost touching my hair with his nose. I hold my breath, fighting with myself to move away, but my body stays still, betraying my mind. My body wants this even if my brain screams to get away from him. I feel so powerless.

"I wouldn't want you to do that. I don't want you to abandon it, despite me not wanting the baby to be there." My hands are shaking so badly I push them between my knees and press my legs together to hold them still.

"I know you wouldn't, but I need you to know I would do anything for you."

"I need you to tell me why." The tears spring out without warning, my voice crumbling, and I tense away as his hands rise to hold me. He stills and puts them back down.

"There is no why, baby. Only a stupid drunken mess who convinced himself that you didn't want a life with me. I wasn't just drunk, Emma. I went off the rails and took shit I hadn't touched since my teens. I got completely shit-faced and got into a fight with two men during that one night." The regret in his voice causes me to look at his hands. It's the first time I notice the faint bruises and healing cuts across his knuckles. That inner weight gets heavier, and my heart bleeds a little more, a surge of disappointment at knowing he'd taken drugs. The Jake I loved didn't do those things anymore, and I don't like that he's admitted it.

"I didn't say no to a life with you. I didn't say no to marriage. I said it was all happening so fast, and I was scared." I leave my focus on his hands. They're sitting on his knees. It's a better, safer view than his green eyes deeply boring into me.

"I know." He sounds ashamed, deflated, and devoid of hope; the tone of his voice yanks through my chest, tugging painfully at my emotions.

"I need to know what you were thinking, how far it went. It's all that goes through my head all the time. You and her and I can't bear it." I don't hide my tears, and my voice is trembling as much as my hands. He lifts his hands automatically, fisting them, and puts them back down. His urge to console me and touch me is torturing him as much as his closeness is torturing me.

"I wasn't thinking, Emma. There was just rage and mess and a lot of pent-up anger. The more wasted out of my head I got, the less logical everything became. It could've been any girl. It just happened to be her. She appeared almost out of nowhere and was trying to get me to talk to her. I don't remember much of what happened, only her kissing me, and I didn't stop her for a minute. Jesus, this is so hard to say to you." His voice breaks, his body tense beside me, yet I stay focused on my lap.

"I need to know. I need to hear all of it," I whisper, tears coursing down my face. My heart has finally met so much pain it's temporarily gone numb, a deep hollow of disbelief taking over me and giving me a moment of respite before it wears off.

"I guess she thought there was a chance for her. I knew I was making a mistake, even as messed up as I was, so I pushed her away after seconds, baby, I swear. Nothing else happened. I didn't even touch her. I didn't stick around either … I stormed outside and ended up beating the shit out of a security guard in pure anger because I was so fucking mad at myself. I knew I'd fucked-up, even in that state, baby. You must believe me, Emma. I've never felt so much disgust at myself." He shifts, getting as close as he can to feel my heat, still unsatisfied with his inability to touch me. Part of me longs to feel his arms around me, but I ignore that inner defiance.

"Did you do it to hurt me? That's what you said that night. To lash out." I look away from him toward the kitchen and focus on the bedroom door I left open, trying not to think of the first time he carried me in there. So long ago, yet still there to visually torture me.

"I worded it badly, Emma. I never did it in such a calculated way. I was acting up and lashing out at everyone because I was a mess. Wasted off my face on God knows what. Hitting people and kissing her … It was all part of my fuck you all haze. It wasn't like that. I wouldn't intentionally do something to cause you pain or score points. I'm crazy about you. You're everything to me." He sighs heavily, voice broken, and this time without hesitation, he catches my hand, pulling it into both of his firmly and holding it tight. I don't resist this time, watching his fingers slowly move around my clenched fist and gently stroking me, enjoying how his skin always feels on mine, allowing myself this little comfort. I'm trying to take in everything he's saying, and my head is getting so fuzzy with fatigue.

"I know I always seem like the cocky, arrogant asshole who's so sure of everything. I'm that way because I've had a lifetime of being on show in the limelight. It's a part I play so well that sometimes I forget to tell you about the other side … There is another side, Emma, the jealous, grumpy, shitty side. He's insecure and so sure that he's only holding onto you by the skin of his teeth. He's lurking inside me, telling me that I'll never be good enough to keep you, that my past will push you away. It's why I push for more, push to get you to move in, push for the house, and the dream, push for marriage."

He's gazing at me intently, squeezing my hand into his, I think he's waiting for me to say something, but I can't. I don't know what to say or how to say it. I've never been here before either. I look away, unsure of what he will profess next, but the passion in his stare pulls me back. I glance at him pleadingly, not knowing how to respond. He realizes I need something else, something more, something that brings this all back together, and he takes a deep breath, ready to continue his onslaught, knowing it's anything but unrequited, speaking to my inner soul.

"You're the one for me, Emma. The woman I want my happily ever after with, the big house full of kids. I figured rushing you into that stuff would make me feel more secure. Stuff I never imagined myself ever hoping for, but I see it all with you. It's that guy who got unleashed with force that night, and I couldn't rein him back in. The insecure guy who figured he'd been right all along and could never keep you…. That destructive me hasn't reared his head for a very long time, and he never will again …" He leans in toward me, his voice closer to my ear, his breath tickling my face. "At Daniel's that night, while wanting to beat the shit out of myself, I realized something …so blindingly obvious …… I always had you, every part of you, and I was too stupid to see it or believe it until I fucked it up." His hoarse voice breaks a little, his tone deep and full of despair.

I sniff back the overwhelming wave of pain he's caused me and lift my chin to look at him, gulping back the onslaught of tears a little forcefully, his words slicing through my heart.

"I still love you, Jake, but I'm so confused right now and so hurt. I was always yours. I don't know how else I could've made you believe it. What else could I have said or done?" I've no idea what else to say after that. So many things are running through my head. Trying to process that Jake could be as insecure as me in our relationship has completely thrown me. I never imagined someone like him would doubt anything, let alone how I felt about him.

"You didn't need to, baby. I should've realized it before acting like the world's biggest asshole. I love you more than anything in the world. You have to believe that." He catches my other wrist and pulls both hands up so I'm drawn toward him, his forehead touching mine, giving me no option but to obey.

His alluring green eyes meet mine, but they are dark and foreboding with the intensity of his emotions. Emotions matching mine.

I missed those eyes so much, like doorways to my soul.

"You're mine, you'll always be mine, and I'll rip the world apart to keep you, Bambina." He leans in, and I know he's going to kiss me, moving in slowly, his eyes focused on my mouth with a hint of longing so intense it stings through my chest. My heartbeat rises in tempo, and my blood runs cold as fear overtakes me. My breathing hitches as he gently grazes his lips across mine, soft, warm, and tender. Familiar lips that I could almost fall into, hoping to erase the pain they caused.

Marissa floods into my head, smirking at me, pulling Jake's mouth to hers while her eyes bore into the recesses of my mind, forcing me to push him away sharply.

"I can't … Not yet." I gasp, yanking back, trying to reel in the crazy burst of emotions that overwhelm me, suffocate me, and make my body tingle crazily. He lets me loose with a sigh and a look on his beautiful face of utter deflation.

"I understand. I told you, whatever you need, no matter how long it takes. I will do whatever it takes to have you back with me." The sincerity in his voice helps calm me.

"I can't think straight … I'm so tired and overemotional." I sag against the couch, letting out a slow breath and wiping more tears from my already sensitive face. The hangover hits me hard again, and fatigue pushes at my eyelids cruelly. All this emotional roller coaster has done is make me crave sleep. I long for some peace in this nightmare for just a little while.

He leans out, pulling me into his arms, strong, safe, and secure. He slides back along the couch and nestles me alongside him as he lies down, his arms and legs around me, spooning me. I don't fight or struggle. I'm too tired to protest or resist. A part of me wants this. After everything he's told me, a part of me needs to feel him around me. The pain of being close and not having him touch me has been agony.

"Go to sleep, Neonata. I'm not going anywhere; I could use the sleep too. I was up all night checking on drunk women." He buries his face in the back of my hair and breathes me in, surrounding me with the security I've been aching for. My mind tells me to push him away, but my heart is aching with his touch. I close my eyes, trying to bring calm to my reeling mind, and ignore the way my body is relaxing into him, molding itself to his hold like a traitorous whore.

You're weak, just like her! Your mother would be so proud!

I push the voice in my head away, too tired for battle or any of this. I know I shouldn't let him touch me, but I can't compete against this. I'm tired, broken, and hungover, and right now, lying here in his arms is a battle I'm too exhausted to fight against.

"Maybe for a little while," I say. "Then I should go." I'm already relaxing into him, tiredness fuzzing out my brain, like being enveloped into a soft, fluffy, warm room after a terrifyingly cold night. It's so easy to relax in his arms. They've always been my safety net and my whole world. The fatigue is moving in with his hold over me as though I've been waiting to return to this.

Lying here like this, I finally feel able to still my mind, focusing on just the feel and smell of him. The gentleness of his breathing and the way his fingers stroke my arm. It's all so familiar and so necessary to my mental state. I don't fight sleep as it moves in, enveloped in his arms, in the warmth and security my body has longed for.

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