Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)

Fuck.

Fuck this.

Fuck her.

Okay, maybe not Angela, but fuck whatever stupid excuse she’s come up with to ghost me. Again.

Everything was fucking perfect—until it wasn’t. Just like that, she ripped the carpet out from under me, taking my heart along with it.

I’ve replayed every minute from that night last weekend wondering where it all went wrong. It was like a switch had been flipped from the parking lot to the top of the stairs. The incredibly hot, sexy water being turned to inhospitable, freezing liquid in an instant. I’ve grilled the guys time and time again to see if they said something to warrant her swift change but they seem just as clueless as I am. Her cutting off any contact with them as well should make me feel better, that it’s not just me, however it only gives a finality to everything somehow, causing the panic to grow more urgent with each passing day.

After seeing that fuckwad Steve crowding Angela, then hearing what her boss has been putting her through, I retreated into my own head. The guys and I have been working on a new project, one that will make us our own bosses much like Angela’s striving for with her new education plan. The new shop we’re currently planning was supposed to be ours—mine, Beck’s, and Marc’s. But lately I’ve been rethinking the entire plan, especially after learning more about Angela’s hostile work environment. I’d been planning to redraw the blueprints currently covering my desk with an added bay for a car wash. A car wash Angela would be running. A place for her to flourish without some sleazebag putting his hands all over her. Unless that sleazebag is me, of course. And it’s consensual.

The layout was so clear in my mind once I had the idea that I had to get it down on paper before it left me. I wanted to be there for Angela after Steve’s disrespectful mouth ruined the night but I thought I had time to sketch up something real quick. I was wrong.

“Fuck!”

I snatch my helmet off the coffee table sitting next to Angela’s abandoned one. Beck attached these active cameras to all our helmets with the intent to capture our rides from now on. I’m not in the fucking mood for a play-by-play of the wreckage I’m wading through but don’t have the headspace for taking the damn thing off, so I leave it and storm back into the hallway.

Automatically I notice the discarded mat and stomp over to shove it back in place. The hell she’s moving. The rental agreement she signed ensures I’ve got at least a few more months. Hopefully. I’ll check with Marc to see if he can find out the exact date her contract ends. That’ll be my deadline to fix things with Angela. If it doesn’t work, then like I promised her, I’ll move. She’s been through enough without adding getting chased out of her apartment by the dumbasses next door to the list.

Satisfied with the rug, I look up to Angela’s door, surprised there’s not a permanent imprint of my knuckles in the metal. My hand twitches at my side. Shaking my head, I move for the stairs. I already begged at her fucking feet tonight and look where that got me.

I mount my bike and shoot off into the veil of night. The ruthless fist that has my heart in its vise-like grip starts to loosen as I lay on the gas, giving it my all. I haven’t been able to fully breathe all week, waiting for the sweet relief only Angela brings. The smallest amount of air filters in my aching lungs and I greedily gasp for more as I fly down the quiet roads. I’m panting as I round my first corner, making for a sloppy turn and I wobble from my mistake.

Fuck, that was close.

I keep to straight roads after that, fighting to even out the spurts of oxygen being sucked in through my cracked lips. Staying up late every night to perfect the design for the new shop has wreaked havoc on my body and it’s showing. The guys barely even let me come into work. Not wanting to sit at home with the reminder of what I’ve lost in plain sight, I’ve begun driving around for hours on end, searching for the best spot for our new venture. Finally finding one this afternoon, I dragged the guys out to see it for themselves before revealing the newly finished draft. The proposal was a hard sell, like I knew it would be, so I pulled out my secret weapon—Joaquin. After the initial shock that I’d even consider going into business with Marc’s overbearing dad, they saw the potential the collaboration offered. New businesses start and fail daily. We knew this going in, but searched for the exact thing to set us apart from the rest. The thing that would keep us up and running for years to come. And not just surviving but thriving.

With Joaquin’s farm being the huge success it is, and continuing to steadily grow, if we could land him as a client then others would surely follow. Ours being the only mechanic shop with a car wash as well, we’d be able to meet all our clients’ needs in one fell swoop. Farmhands drive a variety of vehicles and we could service and wash all of them with ease.

Their eyes started to open the more I talked and soon we were spit-balling other ideas so fast I had to write them down to keep track. The one issue that kept coming up was Angela. I nodded absently each time they mentioned her, even as the pain in my chest intensified. Only when the sympathy in their eyes began outweighing their concern, I closed the conversation down, claiming I had somewhere to be. And I did. I had a girl to win back.

The doormat seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. A way to let her know that whether we were together or not she still had a home she would always be welcome in. I didn’t anticipate the gesture to backfire the way it did though. Her saying she was moving had all my bones feeling like molten lava, burning me from the inside out while simultaneously dissolving my entire being into a puddle of agony.

I just wish she would talk to me, tell me what changed. I can’t fix what I don’t know. It won’t stop me from trying, damn it. Everyone in her life has abandoned her so she expects it from me, too. The problem is she has no idea how deep I already am. I’m barely breathing as it is and I’m still willing to go deeper. I’d dive into a bottomless abyss for Angela, easily. There’s nothing shallow about my love for her and I refuse to give up until she knows it, feels it with every part of her existence, and only then will I walk away if that’s what she chooses. It’ll be hard and hurt like hell but I can offer her that respect. The kind that no one else ever has by letting her decide her fate instead of forcing some whack predisposed notions on her.

I decide to stroll by the vacant lot and put this expensive camera to use. We’ll need everything perfected before approaching Joaquin, but I’m confident once we do, we’ll win him over. Compared to Angela, hard-headed Joaquin might be the easier of the two to persuade but I’m not backing down from either, no matter the low odds.

After filming the site from every angle, I turn back toward home. Knowing Angela is there alone while the guys are out makes me uneasy and I want to be there should she need anything. Not that I expect her to ask for it, but still. It’s like a piece of me has willed itself to her, allowing me to only feel whole again when she’s near. The hollow hall between us is bad enough, but it’s a hell of a lot better than what I’m feeling now. My heart is practically pleading to go back, so I do.

* * *

Something’s wrong. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

I dart my eyes around for the threat, recognizing it immediately. The Ford. His Ford.

Even though I’m in a public space, I lay on the gas, reaching the spot faster than usual. He only rolled by like a creeper before, but now the dude’s parked. That means he’s either on his way up to Angela or he’s already there.

Shit.

I scramble off my bike, loosening my helmet in the process and tucking it under my arm in case I need to use it. I’m not taking any chances. Running to the stairs, I take them two at a time until I hear voices. One low with malice, one rising in alarm.

Fuck.

I soften my steps, listening.

“This is too much, even for you. You need to leave. Now.”

“Angela, let me in so we can talk. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

My jaw grinds to the point of pain, but I block it out.

Angela scoffs. “Are you out of your mind, Joe? You can’t show up here. This is where I live. If you wanted to talk to me, maybe you should’ve let me work this week instead of taking all my hours away.”

She hasn’t worked this week? My eyebrows plummet. I’ve been so caught up in my own misery, I completely disregarded what she must’ve been going through. This jackass is throwing his weight around, probably as punishment for what we did to Steve. No wonder she thinks she should move; we’ve caused her too much trouble as it is.

“That’s why I’m here now, so we can figure something out that benefits both of us. We both know you need the money. Stop acting like you’re not interested.”

There’s a grunt then I’m moving again. A gasp has me sprinting up the last few stairs. Rounding the baluster, I find the immoral boss himself with one hand against the door, pushing to get in while Angela’s frantic eyes find mine. Joe notices, relaxing his arm. Angela uses this time to block the door with her body even more.

“What’s going on, Angela?”

I stare daggers at the bastard refusing to even glance my way.

“I was just saying goodbye.” Her voice firms as does her posture.

Good girl.

My girl.

Opening my door, Joe relaxes, thinking I’m going inside—just like I wanted him to. I find the banged-up Easton we keep next to the door and swing around just as Joe takes another step forward. The aluminum tings against her doorjamb, halting his advance. Angela jumps back but keeps her hold on the door steady, not backing down.

“I believe she said bye. That means it’s time for you to go.” Speaking low next to his tilted head, his eyes stay glued to Angela and I really, really want him looking at me instead.

Make a move. Make a fucking move. I dare you.

His eyes finally meet mine and I lick my lip with anticipation. The promise of violence sits heavy in the air, light on my limbs. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on this asshole and my fingers twitch on the cool metal. My only concern is keeping Angela out of the way so when this bat starts flying, she’s not in its path. She’s a smart girl though. I can already see her inching backward in preparation, making me smile internally. Above everything, she knows I’ll always protect her. My chest swells with the need to do just that as I press in closer. Joe releases the door suddenly, shuffling back, away from me, away from my everything.

I pivot so I’m now standing at the threshold, facing Joe’s overly sweaty figure. Angela, behind me, settles her hand on my lower back and it takes everything in me not to lean into her touch. I’m starved for her affection but not enough to take advantage when she’s scared shitless and vulnerable.

Locking my muscles, I point the bat directly at Joe, aiming for his bloated face. He stares down the cylinder at me but takes the hint, walking backward, toward the stairs.

“Let this be your one and only warning, stay the fuck away. If you have something to say to Angela, you say it to her at work and only at work. You speak to her with someone else in the room or you don’t speak to her at all. You keep your hands to yourself and far away from Angela. No means no, motherfucker. Got it?”

His beady eyes shift over my shoulder but I nudge his jaw with the bat, firmly keeping his attention where it belongs. He’ll probably try to use this against her all over again but fuck it, I already have a plan for that. He needs to learn a lesson and I’ve got some steam to blow off.

“Angela will see you tomorrow for her shift.”

I have no idea if she’s scheduled or not, but it sounds like she needs the hours anyway. He can deal.

Joe spins to go but Angela calls him back, making him pause. Pushing past me, she stands to my side while addressing him.

“I heard what you told detailing about me.” His shoulders tense as do mine. “You’ll never get so much as a look at what’s under my clothes, and neither will they, so stop spreading lies about me or I’ll start telling the truth about you.”

Her shaky hands go to her hips and I’ve never seen anything sexier. Holy shit, this woman owns me.

Joe’s jaw ticks but wisely remains quiet.

We wait until the sound of his engine flares, interrupting the labored silence before facing each other. I reach for her—I can’t stop myself—but she dodges, still not ready to give in. Angela’s like an injured bird that can still fly—not desperate enough to accept help yet, but in need of it all the same.

Her face drops, whispering softly, “I thought it was you.” My stomach tightens and I prop the bat against the wall before wrapping my arm around her waist. She stiffens but allows the contact. “I opened the door because I thought it was you.”

She did? She was going to open her door for me? All week I’ve been begging, praying for her to open that door and the one time she finally does, I wasn’t even here.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t.” More than she knows. “I’m just glad I got back in time. Did he hurt you?”

She shakes her head, making her long hair cascade around her worried face. “He wasn’t here long enough. He showed up just before you did. I didn’t think he would actually come here.”

I did. I knew he was sniffing around and hate that I didn’t do something sooner. She should’ve been safe. She should’ve been with me.

Her hazel eyes find mine. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Aw, babe, if it was up to me, you’d never be alone again.

It’s the closest I’ve heard her come to asking for help and it breaks my heart a little. Still cradling my helmet in the crook of my elbow, I drop the arm around her waist to take her hand. “You can stay in my room. I’ll lock up here and come check on you when I’m done.”

I’ll take the couch and fill the guys in when they get home. She’ll never have to worry about anyone hurting her with us around. We’d willingly give our lives to protect her—as any good family would.

She nods solemnly then passes through my partially open door. I watch as her pajama-clad body walks dejectedly down the hall. Bare feet pad across the carpet, leaving a hint of her ever-present strawberry scent as she goes. Baggy black pajama pants held up by a drawstring cover her long legs that have kept me awake in more ways than one. A matching cropped tank showing her toned abdomen flutters as she moves.

I see a beautifully broken girl that life is trying to smash but who refuses to fall to pieces. Regardless, I’ll be there to help put her back together again, should she ever need it.

Tonight came close. The droop of her shoulders tells me what she won’t. She was rattled. So was I. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he succeeded in whatever his rotted brain had concocted. The thought of his hands on her has my temperature rising all over again. I wanted blood. Shit, I still do. A bat wouldn’t have been enough. Not for a lowlife like that. If he’s willing to prey on someone as strong as Angela, I can’t imagine how he is with others, using his laughable title to make girls bend to his will. Dude deserves worse than what he got tonight. I’m not stupid enough to think a single threat will keep him honest but I can’t worry about that right now. Angela’s in my bed, upset. I can’t take away her pain, as much as I wish I could, but I can be there for her like nobody else ever has. I can hold her as she cries. I can listen while she rants. I can help form a new plan of action. I can love her the way she’s never been shown but deserves nonetheless.

I work on getting everything settled so I can finally relax knowing she’s safe in my world again. And for now, that’s enough. I’ll figure out how to keep her there later, because there’s no other choice. I’ve never been more certain. She’s mine as much as I’m hers.