Dysfunctional Hearts Read online

  “So, what was it like? Kissing Charlie?”

  I shake my head. He had to go there, didn’t he? I’m surprised it took him this long. It must’ve killed him—keeping quiet during dinner—but he’s a food man, and I swear he has hollow legs.

  I feign ignorance. “Like kissing my brother,” I say, followed by a fake gag.

  He twirls me. “I don’t believe you,” he says, holding his stare.

  “Fine. Do you want the truth?”

  He raises his eyebrows. Just thinking about the kiss has me all hot and flustered again. “It was nice. Like, really nice…and…hot.” My stomach warms at the thought, and I almost want to squeeze my legs together.

  He stops us where we are. “Huh, I bloody well knew it. I told Ryan there’s chemistry between you two.”

  I peer around, hoping no one is paying us any attention. “Slow your roll, lover boy. It’s not like that.” I pull my hand free to fan my face.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He glances over my shoulder and then back to me. “Do you want some advice?” I consider saying, no, but he’s going to whether I want to hear it or not. “When the reception begins to wind down, you need to get the beau to your room. Or at least whip out your toy for a well-needed release.”

  I choke on air and hold back my laugh. Crude is most definitely his speciality.

  “Seriously, you’re getting worse. You know that, right?”

  “Just keeping it real.” He begins two-stepping, so I follow his lead while trying my hardest to ignore the thoughts he’s just cemented into my head. But I’m failing miserably.

  Charlie

  Damn Simon. He was on Sophie like a car bonnet the moment we stepped off the stage. I can’t blame him, though. It’s been months since he saw her last. It was only a couple of weeks for me, and I struggled. So, here I am, downing a shot of whiskey, ready to go steal her away, because yeah, I’m a selfish bastard like that. But as I step out, I see Flick, having just finished dancing with her dad and tap her on the shoulder.

  “Hey, Mrs. Davenport. Any chance of stealing you for a dance?”

  “Of course, mate.” She attempts an Australian accent.

  I laugh, it’s still shit, but who am I to ruin the glow she has on her beautiful face?

  “So, how’s your day been?” I ask, twirling her out and then back into me.

  She giggles, almost colliding with my chest. Yep, she’s a little tipsy. “Everything I could’ve imagined, and yet, so much more.”

  I almost have a sarcastic rebuttal on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t spend the rest of my adult life stereotyping relationships and marriages. Some things you have to let go.

  “I’m happy for you, both of you. You know that, right?”

  She pats my chest and stares up, her eyes glassy. “I know. And I truly believe there is someone out there for everyone. Even you.”

  “Maybe, but it’s not for everyone.”

  She smiles. “Whatever. It’s my wedding, and I’ll be Disney all day if I want to. And thank you for staying here while we’re away. Nate feels better knowing Evie won’t be up-routed.”

  I only nod in response, it’s the least I can do. And seeing how frail she was today has only solidified it was the right call. Evie’s always been there for me since I’ve known Nate. I’m repaying her kindness. But the one thing I hadn’t put much thought into up until now was the fact Soph will be staying here, too.

  “So, you and Sophie, huh?”

  Mind reader. “What?”

  “Just be careful, okay?”

  I only stare at her in response.

  “Charlie, I’m not blind, even if you two are. You’ve both been skirting around your attraction towards one another for yonks. But, if you’re not sure…if you have any doubts… Please, don’t go there. I don’t want either of you getting hurt.”

  I get it, I do, but I can’t have this conversation with her—not when Sophie and I don’t even know what this is. “Don’t worry, we’re friends, that’s all.” And maybe if I keep saying it out loud, I’ll believe it.

  “Whatever, Charlie. It’s only a matter of time before you both give into temptation. Talk to each other first.”

  Sometimes I wonder… If Sophie and I would have slept together when we first met, would this even be an issue right now? We would have moved past it—wouldn’t we?

  “Flick, you worry too much. Enjoy your honeymoon. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

  I hope it’s a promise I can keep.

  “Trade?” Simon asks, his Australian accent nailed down. I swear I don’t even think I have one anymore I sound more like a Pom, as my uncle Zeb would say. I’m an inbetweener.

  “I’d love to.”

  Flick shakes her head. “Casting us off like cattle? Charming.” Her light laughter lets us know she’s only joking.

  I swap places with Simon, grateful to him for initiating it. Taking hold of Soph, I pull her close, shaking my head as I regard her.

  “What?” she asks, staring up at me.

  I lean down, letting my lips graze the soft, velvety skin beneath her ear as I speak. “You know you’re a complete enigma, right?”

  She pulls back, her eyebrows bunched together. Even with the fluorescents around us, I can see her skin glow.

  “Just when I think I’ve got you all figured out, you completely blow me away with your voice. You were amazing.”

  I know her well enough to know my compliment has just made her uneasy. She tenses, but even if that didn’t just give her away, I’d recognise it. She has these tells. I don’t know when I began paying attention, but I find myself watching her—even when I shouldn’t.

  I clear my throat. She’s avoiding my gaze now. Gently, my forefinger raises her chin until she’s looking back up at me. Her well-guarded armour begins to slip; I see the shift as it lowers, and for a moment, my ego gets a boost. How do you avoid this kind of temptation once you’ve had a taste?

  Bending my knees, I lower my face toward hers, and that’s when I see her pupils dilate. She licks her lips, but her posture is rigid. She’s not ready to go there—not yet.

  I kiss her lightly on the forehead, instead, and pull her close. I feel her release a breath, her body relaxing as she rests her cheek on my chest. I wonder…does she feel it—the pounding of my heart?

  She moves her hands from mine and wraps her arms around my middle. It’s her way of silently telling me we’re still good.

  My scalp prickles—something is off. My eyes roam the room, which was, for the most part, a sanctuary, but now I’m on edge.

  And then out of the shadows, a figure appears—a guy I don’t recognise steps into my view—but his focus is only on one thing. Soph.

  My body tenses, hands tighten.

  “What?” Soph asks.

  In my peripheral vision, I see her follow my line of sight as her next words slip from her mouth. “Oh, shit!”

  Chapter 5

  Charlie

  My eyes scan between her and him. She rarely swears, so the fact she just let that slip means this is going to be interesting. He’s leering at her like he has some claim on her—I hate it. And I already know he’s a douchebag.

  “You know him?” I ask, hoping she says no so I can tell him to do one.

  I tighten my hold on her when she stops dancing. Her eyes meet mine.

  “Unfortunately, yes. It’s Craig, a guy I was seeing.”

  I clench my jaw.

  “I may have invited him under duress and forgot. We don’t even see each other anymore.”

  My stomach hardens. What does that mean? Under duress?

  “Sorry, I’ll go talk to him. It’s a little too late to un-invite him now.” Her shoulders slump as she steps out of my hold.

  “I can un-invite him for you if you like…”

  The corner of her eyes crinkle, she smiles at my suggestion, and before I can stop myself, my hand reaches down to cup her face, my thumb brushing over her cheek. Her lashes flutter befor
e she steps back, placing her hand over mine and giving it a tentative squeeze. Then she turns, heading over to the douche.

  Left standing amongst dancers, a relative of Nate’s or Flick’s—I can’t be sure—attempts to accost me, but I quickly make a beeline for the bar just as the first words for Come on Eileen kick in.

  I steal glances in Soph’s direction until she ushers him out and they disappear from my sight. Ordering a JD and coke, I tap my knuckles on the bar.

  “Make that two,” I counter when Nate appears, his face brighter than a clown on helium.

  “Hey, do you know anything about a guy Sophie was seeing?” I ask.

  He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Not much, why?”

  “Well he just turned up, and she’s gone out to speak with him.”

  His eyes bug out a little, but he shrugs it off. “I wouldn’t sweat it, man. She’s not with him anymore,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, his smile still intact.

  I pass him his drink, and we chink glasses. “Cheers,” we both say before taking a sip.

  “So why is she even entertaining him, and why didn’t she say anything to me?”

  He turns to me, leaning his elbow on the bar. His eyebrows crease as his smile stretches into a smirk. “What does it matter to you anyway? You’re just friends.”

  “We are. I’m just curious, that’s all.” A half-truth.

  He chuckles. “Whatever you say, man. I’m off to find my lovely wife.”

  “Totally whipped,” I say, smiling.

  He punches me in the arm with a shit-eating grin and wiggles his fingers at his Aunt Lydia when he walks away.

  The drinks are flowing and everywhere I turn, smiles and laughter echo. They decided to create mini playlists for each decade. We’re currently in the eighties, and when Take on Me hits the speakers, I drain the rest of my drink before ordering myself another.

  I need some air.

  I leave my drink on the nearby table as I shuffle between people and exit the reception tent, pull off my cravat, and stuff it into my pocket. The music becomes a hum the farther away I walk. Close to the row of trees which line the edge of the small lake that runs at the back of their property, voices catch my attention.

  It’s not until a familiar tone reaches me that I strain to listen, moving closer but keeping myself in the shadows.

  It’s clear whatever they’re discussing is becoming heated.

  “I don’t know what else you want me to say. We weren’t working.” Soph exhales like this isn’t the first time she’s told him.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. It was working out fine while we were fucking.” His voice is slurred and overbearing.

  “Greg, don’t be so crude. We haven’t been together in almost a month. And this isn’t the time or place. Let me call you tomorrow when you’re sober. We can talk then.”

  “No, we can talk now, god damn it. It’s one of the guys you were all over, isn’t it?” His voice raised.

  I clench my fist to my side until my nails dig into my palm.

  “I’m not about to dignify that with an answer. Were you watching me?” she asks.

  “Yes. You might act all prim and proper, but you’re just a slut—a fucking tease.”

  Hell, no, he did not. I move closer to them.

  “Just stop. Si is my best friend and Charlie is the groom’s best man.” Her voice shakes, but otherwise, she sounds calm.

  “Don’t be fucking naïve, Sophie. He probably wants in your knickers… That’s if you’re even wearing any?”

  That’s it.

  I step into their space just as he grabs hold of her upper arm.

  She flinches, stutters. “Let me go!”

  “Did you not fucking hear her? She told you to let her go,” I say.

  I want to pull Sophie behind me and get this arsehole away from her.

  “Shut up, pretty boy,” he slurs.

  Is he seriously trying to bait me right now?

  “I won’t ask you again. Let her go, and get the fuck out of here,” I say in warning, my eyes locked on him as he roughly pulls her into him and she stumbles.

  I get a load of her face, her eyes blink rapidly and her lower lip trembles.

  I launch forward and shove him hard in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. He loses his grip, and his hand flies up, connecting with her face.

  She lets out a sharp yelp, and that’s all it takes for my patience to snap. I’m on him before I even register my feet have moved. He doesn’t have any time to protect his face as my fist connects with his nose, followed by a loud crack.

  I don’t stop.

  I draw back my fist, slam it back into his face. Again—punch, punch—and again. The green lawn fades. Red, hot rage fuels my fists. The crack of knuckles on flesh drowns out the world.

  Draw.

  Slam.

  Crack.

  Distant, hollowed screeches puncture the air. They’re incoherent—the voices—but closer and closer.

  And then hands are on me. I’m pulled from my prey. No. I take another swing, landing in air.

  “Charlie—”

  That’s Simon’s voice. I blink, letting it bleed into my subconscious.

  “Charlie, that’s enough, man. What the fuck?”

  “Just calm down, man,” Ryan says, his eyes darting at the prick on the ground and back to me.

  It’s then I notice they both have a hold of me. I’m not sure if they’re holding me back or up at this point. I stare down at my fists—skin split and bleeding—then at the mongrel still on the ground. One of his eyes is already swelling shut, and from the state of his nose, I’m pretty sure it’s broke. But I don’t feel an ounce of remorse.

  “Get him the fuck out of here. Before I kill him,” I spit out.

  Ryan lets me go, but Simon still has a grip on me. He faces me, his eyebrows drawn in. “Are you going to keep yourself under control?” he asks, his face contorted. I’ve never seen him this serious.

  “Yes,” I grit out, my pulse thumping wildly in my temples.

  He lets me go, and I squeeze my eyes closed, take a deep breath. I want nothing more than to keep punching that sack of shit. But when I focus enough to see Simon standing in front of Sophie, the bottom drops out from the pit of my stomach. I’m rooted in place.

  Fuck.

  He pries her hand away from her mouth and brings her to his chest. Her other arm’s folded over her middle. And tears are falling from her beautiful eyes. He lets go, takes her face in his hands and tilts her head to lock eyes with her.

  I don’t know what Simon said to her, but she won’t answer him; she’s staring right through him.

  The piece of shit lets out a groan as Ryan pulls at his arm.

  And then Sophie’s eyes are on him, wide and dazed.

  “Hurry up and get him the fuck out of here,” I say again.

  Simon turns his head, eyes dark like thunder. “I’m not bloody leaving her, not like this,” he whisper-shouts. She flinches.

  I take a step forward, my feet working again. “Who the fuck am I, Casper?”

  He puts his hand up. “You need to calm the heck down.” He turns back towards Sophie. “Do you want me to stay with you, baby girl?” he asks her.

  She shakes her head and glances back and forth between us. When she speaks, it comes out scratchy. “No. Please, just get him gone before Nate or Flick see.”

  A firm hand lands on my shoulder, and I ball my fist, about to swing.

  “Too late. Anyone care to explain?” Nate asks as he examines the scene.

  Ryan nods his head to Simon, who reluctantly leaves Sophie’s side, and together, they grab the prick up under his armpits, dragging him to his feet.

  “Go around the side of the house. It’s less likely you’ll bump into anyone,” Nate says before fixing his gaze on me.

  I hold my palms up. “I’m sorry it happened here, man, but he had his hands on her,” I say, dropping them back against my thighs with a thump
.

  I haven’t fought like that since school, but even then, I hadn’t felt like it was someone else in control. Hell, I own a bar, but I always manage to keep my cool. I had some anger issues for a couple of years at school and would get into a scrap or two. Nate always had my back. I tug my hands through my hair, a buzz rippling through my body as I pace back and forth.

  “Then the fucker got less than he deserved,” he says to me.

  His eyes roam over to Sophie, followed by his feet. Approaching her cautiously, he stands in front of her and dips down. “Are you okay?” he asks.

  She doesn’t say anything. Gently, he tilts her face up to meet his eyes. “Soph?” he asks again.

  Dropping an arm to her side, she blinks back up at him and takes in a deep breath.

  “I’m fine,” she croaks.

  She sure as hell doesn’t seem like she’s okay. He pulls her into his arms, but she doesn’t move. He kisses the top of her head before letting her go, eyeing her sceptically. “I need to head back before Flick notices I’m gone. You two go get yourselves cleaned up.”

  She nods with a strained smile. Walking past, he whispers, “Look after her.”

  I say nothing but keep my eyes trained on her when she finally peers up. She shakes her head. I don’t know what it means, but I step closer and gesture with my hand towards the house before clenching it and stuffing it in my pocket.

  She’s a few steps ahead of me, her head bowed to her chest.

  The static charge in the air, accompanied by the pulse thumping in my ears and our footsteps are the only sounds I register as we make our way through the back of the house and into the kitchen.

  Sophie slumps onto a stall, tears silently rolling down her cheeks, her breathing hard as she hugs herself. My chest tightens, throat thickens. I bend down, kneeling in front of her.

  “I’m so sorry, Sophie.” I cup her cheek and rub her arm when she hisses through her teeth.

  I take her arm between my hands to examine it. It’s already beginning to bruise. “That, mother fucker!” I grind my jaw.

  I let go of her arm, carefully, and study her face. Her mascara is smudged under her eyes, so I wipe my thumbs over the stains. She has a cut above her left eye. I reach in my pocket for my hankie and bring it up to wipe away the blood that’s already drying. Leaning past her, I run the tap over the corner of the soft fabric, then dab it over her cut, cleaning it as best I can.