“Okay, okay, settle down, girl. I won’t call you Cherry anymore if you hate it so much, but only if you let me take you home. You need your bed.”

He brought a hand up to the back of my head and stroked down my hair. And he could’ve called me by the name of any fruit in the world right now…apple, grape, kumquat, banana…and I’m fairly sure I wouldn’t have even noticed, because he was touching me. Neil had his hands on me.

No, I need your bed. I lifted my eyes to his, my palms were flat on his chest, and I felt his heart thumping under my fingers. He focused on my mouth, and for a moment I got the feeling he was thinking about kissing me. My heart pounded so hard I’m sure my body must be moving from the force of it.

“Who do you want that you cannot have?” he whispered carefully, his eyes searing and dark, begging me to say. If I wasn’t so stubborn I might have spilled my guts right then and there, telling him every single detail of every nice thing he’d ever done for me growing up, and how I didn’t remember a time when I didn’t love him.

I shook my head at him, feeling tears beginning to wet my eyes.

“Tell me—”

I inhaled quickly and turned my head away, just in time to see Denny step into the pub and lock eyes on me. “Oh God,” I moaned.

“Baby, you came,” he said, rushing over and trying to pull me into his arms. Denny’s relief at seeing me waiting at the bar for him was clearly apparent on his arrogant face.

“No, Denny, don’t.” I had just put my hand out to keep him off me when Neil stepped up.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, Tompkins. Leave off her.” Neil glowered down at my ex with a look of such loathing that Denny wasn’t the only one surprised by the open hostility. Neil looked like he could make Denny bleed and would enjoy the hell out of ensuring that there was a big puddle of the stuff once he was done. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Neil was behaving as if he were jealous of Denny.

I had to be incredibly drunk and my thought processes impaired. Why would Neil act like that over me and some bloke I’d already dumped?

“Elaina? Please baby, just listen. That tart meant nothing to me—” Denny ignored Neil’s directive and tried to reach for me again.

I realized then, that my former boyfriend was as incredibly stupid as I was drunk.

“Obviously your life doesn’t either, you ignorant prick.” Neil blocked Denny’s attempted grab for me, stopping him cold. “You’re not a very good listener, Tompkins. I told you she doesn’t want to talk to you anymore. Get. Lost.”

As Denny and Neil squared off, a wave of nausea so overpowering took hold of me, and I knew I’d be hideously sick. I clamped a hand over my mouth and slammed myself toward the loo, so incredibly grateful the door wasn’t very far away from the bar. Both men let me go.

Thank God for the little blessings.

4

As I heaved over the toilet, expelling all the wine and happy-hour veggies I’d consumed while drowning my sorrows, I pined over my pathetic love life. How utterly revolting, wretched, and pitiful was I. A guy who cheated, and one who saw me only as a little sister. Fuck my life.

Once I was done puking, I made my way to the sink, where I leaned on it with both hands, panting into the mirror, and gathering the strength to splash some water on my face. Neil beat on the door, and barged in a second later looking fairly dangerous. In contrast to me looking like shit.

The scowl on his face told me he was not in the least bit happy with me. But despite his opinions, he didn’t lecture or fuss; he just pulled out some towels, wet them, and pressed the wad to my face. “Hold that to your head. I’ll be right back.”

“Denny?” I asked weakly from behind the towel.

“Gone. That f**kin’ twat won’t be bothering you again.” I heard his heavy footsteps retreat and then the door of the loo shut with a click.

I groaned in my misery and tried to breathe, thinking if I could just crawl into a corner somewhere private, I could lick my wounds in peace. Tearing the wet towel off my face, I looked around the small room for the best covert access. I seriously considered hopping out the window as a means of escape. How could I ever face Neil again after this debacle? Embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover what I was feeling right now.

“You’ll be leaving out the front door tonight, darlin’, and not the f**kin’ window.” I whipped my head around to see he’d returned with a glass of water for me. He was still wearing that frown too.

“I wasn’t going to,” I said meekly, mortified he read my shame as if it were a newspaper headline.

“You were thinking about it, though.” He brought the glass to my lips. “Here you go. Little sips.” His kind attentions overwhelmed me to the point I had to close my eyes. I just couldn’t look at him anymore and keep myself together. I sipped the water instead and let him tend to me.

Selfish of me, I know.

“Better now?” he asked hopefully, in that low tone I recognized since as long as I could remember. I loved the sound of Neil’s voice and I always had. Listening to him talk was a beautiful sound to me. Strong, but gentle. Soft, yet firmly convincing.

I nodded weakly, wishing I could slip through a crack in the floor boards so he couldn’t see me in such a pitiable state. Why was he here hovering? Shouldn’t he be busy with Cora grinding his soldier’s edge off?

“Why are you doing this, Neil?”

He ignored my question and frowned at me instead. “Let’s get you out. You’re so finished here for the night.”

Then he put his hand at my lower back with a firm touch, and steered me out of the pub, completely taking charge of the situation.

I was far too weak to put up any sort of fight and I loved the feel of his hands on me, anyway.

Even if he were just being the concerned big brother tonight, I’d take what I could get. Any little bit of Neil was better than no Neil at all. I am not stupid.

While leaning against the window of his car, I welcomed the cold glass pressing into my temple, hoping it might cure my scrambled head. Not very effective though, when I could smell his deliciousness right beside me.

Neil just drove and stayed quiet. He wasn’t a talker anyway. He spoke if he had something to say, and I got the feeling he really wanted to say something to me now, but I’d forced things to become so awkward between us, he probably didn’t know how to begin. Nor want to. I felt like a complete and utter mess. Scratch that. I was most definitely a complete and utter mess.