Twisted Love (Blinded Love Series Book 3) Read online

  “Is this what you went to school for?” Liam nodded at the screen at my graphic design.

  “No.” I snorted. “I majored in music.”

  After finding out I couldn’t sing, my mom never gave up the hope that I would find another way to be famous in the music industry. I loved music, so I didn’t fight her, but after years of school, I still couldn’t say it was my ultimate passion. In college I majored in songwriting but had yet to write a song I would put out in public. CUNY had both music and art classes, and graphic design was one of those electives I picked up and enjoyed it so much I kept going, minoring in it. I could express myself better this way than in words.

  “You are talented as shit. If this doesn’t get people’s attention, then I give up.”

  “No, you won’t.” I rolled my eyes. He contemplated closing the store every week.

  Liam opened the store two years ago and had been struggling from the start. Gold Vinyl Records was his baby. He poured all his savings into opening it and barely made it month to month in the steep rental space of Tribeca. He was here every day and only had two other employees besides me. Romeo was an eighteen-year-old guy who wished he lived in the era of the Sex Pistols, and my friend, Maxine, part of the small group I considered friends here, was a trans woman who did stand-up comedy on the weekends. We met at art school and immediately hit it off. I got her the job here so she could afford her rent and stay in New York. Stand-up, unless you were in the top one percent, paid diddly shit. Most of the time she got compensated with a few drinks and an appetizer.

  “I’m going to tweak a few things, then I’ll upload it on the home page.” I shifted in my chair, moving away from him as I stretched my arms above my head. “First, I’m gonna take my break now.” Technically as manager, he should be telling me to do so, but that wasn’t really how our relationship worked. It was no secret Liam had a crush on me. He never crossed the line, but I knew in the way his brown puppy eyes followed me and how easily I could get him to blush. Maxine always grumbled, “You can get away with anything…be late to work, leave early…and he’d only roll his eyes and smile.”

  I had never taken advantage of it. Okay, that was a total lie, but I tried not to…really.

  “Okay.” He nodded and watched me walk to the back, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip as if he wanted to say something else.

  I headed into the back room, grabbed my bag, and yanked my cell from the bottom.

  My stomach contracted, nerves lacing thickly down my throat. Six missed calls and three texts from Whiskey, telling me to call her. She wasn’t someone who did that unless something was wrong.

  I hit call, nibbling on my finger. “Come on, Whiskey…answer,” I muttered after the fourth ring, panic poking at me like an annoying sibling.

  “Stevie.” Jayme picked up the phone, sounding strained.

  “What’s wrong?” I knew instantly. That girl couldn’t hide anything from me.

  “It’s Emlyn.” She sucked in shakily. “It’s bad, Stevie…”

  Shit.

  “What kind of bad?”

  “By the time Krista got Emlyn to the hospital, she was really struggling to breathe and turning blue. The nurse rushed her to the ER. They’ve done tests and found Emlyn has a hole in her heart. A…congenital heart defect they called it.”

  “Holy. Shit.” I didn’t know much about science or health, but I knew it was bad.

  “We’re all at the hospital right now, but we haven’t heard anything new. Krista and Jason are with her.” She sighed, sounding as if she was rubbing her head. “I know you’re not really friends with Krista and you weren’t planning to come home yet, but…”

  “I’ll be there tonight.” I had no idea if I could get the time off, or find a flight, but I’d figure it out. “I told you, Whiskey, I will always have your back.”

  “Thank you.” She exhaled like I had lifted a weight off her shoulders. I didn’t have a lot of close friends, and Jayme had gotten in even deeper than most. I’d do anything for her.

  “Call me if you find out anything new, and I’ll let you know when I get there.” I peered through the doorway, seeing Liam stroll past. I know I said I never took advantage of his crush on me…but this was an exception.

  “Liam…” I found him at the register staring at the graphic I designed for the event this coming weekend. I batted my lashes, putting it on thick. “Liam, the best manager and man I’ve ever met.”

  He twisted to glance over his shoulder, taking in my expression. “Oh no…” Liam waggled his head, standing up straight. “I know that look. Whatever it is, no.” He straightened, folding his arms, his lips thinning. “That look never means good things for me.”

  “What do you mean?” I tried to feign innocence, but that look didn’t work for me. “I’m nothing but a model employee.”

  “Yeah, when you don’t want off early, longer dinner breaks, a few days off to recover from the weekend, or borrow money for food.”

  “Besides those things.” I swished my hand, plopping back down in the stool in front of my laptop. “I’m perfect. Look at this design I’m doing for the party. It’s a Pulitzer Prize winner.”

  “Don’t think they give Pulitzer Prizes for graphic design.” He chuckled, a grin curving his mouth. “What is it, Stevie?”

  “So…you know the vacation time I have coming?” I rolled my mouse, expanding the name of the store and the date of the sale. I had talked him into doing a “Saturday and Sunday Shindig” party. People loved having brunch and then strolling around the quaint shops on the street on a beautiful summer day. Nothing brought in people like a sale. Add fun music, food, and a relaxed atmosphere with our new sexy, funky brand all over, and I knew it would bring in new customers who didn’t realize how freaking cool this place was.

  “Yessss,” he replied tentatively.

  “My friend’s friend…” I realized I had no way of describing Krista without it getting complicated; I didn’t even know how I knew her. “A friend of mine back home.” I tried not to cringe. “Her baby was just taken to the ER. I guess she has a hole in her heart or something.” I had already forgotten how Jayme described it.

  “Shit. I’m sorry.” Liam’s humor dropped away, concern wrinkling his forehead. “Is she okay?”

  “We don’t know yet, but I guess it’s pretty bad. She stopped breathing.” I hooked my booties on the stool ring, turning to face Liam. “She really wants me there.”

  “Yeah, of course.” He nodded. “When did you want to leave?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” His eyes bulged. “All your shifts…but yeah…okay… You’ll be back before this weekend, right?”

  “I don’t know, depends on what they find out. But I was thinking since I was planning on going down to visit my mom next month anyway, I might as well take the full vacation time now.”

  He closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. “Sorry if I sound like an asshole, but you’re not going to be here for the party you thought of, designed, and organized?” He leaned back onto the counter, frowning.

  “Yeah.” I parted my lips in a remorseful smile. “Honestly, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

  Liam scoffed, his eyes going to the side, muttering. “Not likely.”

  “Please, Liam.” I was not above lying. “She’s a dear friend and she really needs me there.” Ugh. I felt dirty…a feeling I usually liked. And really I was talking about Jaymerson, even if he assumed I was talking about Krista.

  “Stevie…” He rubbed at his face, knowing he’d sound like an asshole if he said no. “You make my life hell.”

  “I’ll have my mom send you the club T-shirt.” I hopped off the stool, grinning up at him. “Is that a yes?”

  His lids narrowed, glaring at me before he huffed, “Yes,” but he shook his head. “As though I really had a choice there.”

  “Thank you!” I gave him a rare hug, his body relaxing into mine.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He chuckled, patt
ing my back before I drew away. He stared at me, his dark brown eyes darting to my own, softening.

  I recognized the look. Liam wanted to kiss me.

  I turned back for the computer. “Thank you again. I’ll have everything ready for the party before I leave today.”

  Besides not being sexually attracted to Liam, he was too sweet, too easy to walk over. He had no idea I would be his hell if anything ever happened between us. All the things he thought he liked about me would be the very things that would break him. He wouldn’t be able to handle me, not even close, which would make me bored as hell. I get evil when I’m bored in a relationship, which was why I never did them.

  I wouldn’t just walk all over him, I’d stomp. Rip his heart into shreds until he was bitter and callous, like me. I liked Liam too much to do that. My friends list was short, and I didn’t want do anything to ruin the ones I had.

  Like Whiskey. When she walked into the therapy room that first day, my mouth had dropped open. She was unbelievably gorgeous and full of enough spunk to intrigue me. But right away I felt drawn to a friendship with her, a sisterhood even lust couldn’t interfere with. Everyone had different kinds of friends. Whiskey was the only one I’d protect or destroy for.

  I spent the rest of my shift working on the flyers, posters, and website, getting them ready for next weekend’s Sunday Shindig. Liam handled our few customers. He was the better salesperson since he knew every record in the store; his passion alone could sell carbs to Upper East Side mothers.

  “Everything’s ready.” I set the flyers I printed on the counter.

  Liam turned off the front lights and strolled back to me. The summer sun dipped below the tall buildings around us, shadowing the room.

  “Thank you.” He came up to the large open doorway, leaning against the wall, nodding at the stack the various promotion flyers. “Did you get a flight?”

  “Yeah. Need to run home to grab my stuff.”

  “Wish I had a car… I’d drive you.”

  I lifted my dark eyebrows, shaking my head softly. “You have a good heart, dude.” On my break, I got the cheapest ticket home I could find, which left at midnight, giving me plenty of time to get the train to Newark.

  “Or just a weakness…” He drifted off, the light from the windows glinting off his eyes. “For you.”

  My teeth ground, and I chose to ignore the double meaning. I hiked my bag up on my shoulder.

  “I’ll be back before you know it, annoying the hell out of you, and you’ll be wishing for the time I was on vacation again.”

  “Never.” He exhaled, staring down at his shoes. “We’ll miss you. Sad you can’t be here for the event you planned.”

  “I’ll be stalking Instagram to make sure you guys are keeping up on the publicity.” I moved toward the doorway, stopping in front of him. “I have no doubt this will really help. Especially if we do them every month.”

  He nodded, his face twisted with agony, his feet restless. He stayed quiet for a few beats, my mouth about to open with a “see ya,” when he spoke softly. “Why do I feel you aren’t coming back? That this is my last chance, and if I don’t take it, I’ll always wonder.”

  “What?”

  Liam squirmed in his spot. “I’m your manager, so I really shouldn’t say this.”

  Crap.

  “I like you, Stevie. Really like you.”

  Fuck.

  “Liam.”

  “I know I’m not your usual type, but I can’t explain it; I think we’d be good together. We laugh all the time. I feel we really get each other.”

  Double fuck.

  This wasn’t the first time I had heard this. People often claimed they felt as if they knew me, that I was their closest friend, but in truth no one was. I had a lot of acquaintances. Slept with even more. But very few of those went past a superficial level. I called very few people my true friends.

  Jaymerson was the closest, and I hadn’t even let her dig into my final layer.

  Liam thought he knew the real Stevie, but I kept her behind a wall so thick, no one even knew it could be broken down. One did, said a nagging voice in my head before I rammed it back.

  “Please say you feel the same or are willing to think about it.”

  Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. All over his heart.

  “It’s probably no surprise. I mean, from the day you walked in here looking for a job, I’ve been crushing on you. I can’t get you out of my head.” He moved to grab my hands.

  Funny, the word crush: one definition meant to have feelings for someone, the other to squash, devastate, or massacre. Guess which one I was more likely to do.

  “Liam. Stop.” I dropped my arms out of his reach. “Believe me, you don’t want me.”

  His mouth formed a rebuttal.

  “No.” I cut him off. “You don’t. Not really. I’d be your worst nightmare.”

  “Are you kidding? You are my ultimate fantasy!”

  “Believe me. I’m serious. I’m a mess. And I’m cruel,” I said blatantly. “The girl this morning could testify….so could the guy before her, and the one before that. I’m not a relationship girl.”

  “I don’t want to tie you down. I love your free spirit. I just want to be included in your world.”

  Awww. How adorable.

  “No, you don’t, Liam. You say that because it sounds exciting now, but as much as you’d like to deny it, you are monogamous, and it would end up tearing you apart.” I touched his arm. “Plus, you are my friend and I cherish that more. Let’s keep it this way.”

  His jaw twitched, his gaze darting everywhere but my face. “At least I know now.”

  “I’m sorry, but honestly, you would have ended up despising me, and I enjoy working here too much.”

  “You won’t be back,” he muttered, falling back against the opposite wall.

  “Of course I will. Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know.” He stared at me, and it felt like he was peeling back my skin to see right into the bloody veins below. “It’s just a sinking feeling I have.”

  Rays of early morning sun seeped through my lids. At the sound of a voice humming happily, I yanked up my blinds.

  “Moooommmm.” I dragged the pillow back over my head, digging my head deeper into the darkness. “Go away. It’s way too early.”

  My flight from New York had brought me in at the wee hours of the morning, and for once my mind was tired enough to sleep.

  “Call me angel…” My mom sang, vocalizing one of her favored singers, Juice Newton. “...touch my cheek...”

  “Please. Stop. Singing.” I groaned.

  “Call me angel…” She belted out louder, jumping on my bed. “...slowly turn...”

  “Okay, now it’s just getting creepy.” I tossed the pillow off my face, staring up at my ceiling flooded by sunlight. The heat already slithered through the glass.

  “Good morning, honey.” Mom smiled, joy at having me home bubbling off her. “It’s a beautiful day.”

  “It’s going to be ninety-five with humidity like Satan’s asshole.”

  Mom frowned at my word choice but didn’t respond. She knew there was no hope of breaking me of things that brought me so much joy, such as swearing. She read an internet “study” that said people who swore were more creative and had higher intelligence, and since then let my vocabulary be. This coming from the woman who used to swear like a sailor.

  “I’m just so happy to have you home.” She kissed my cheek. “I made your favorite. The Dutch babies are getting cold.”

  Okay, I might get up for those, especially the way she made them. I didn’t want to know the amount of sugar and butter she used, but they were the best.

  “Just call me…” Mom chirped as she strolled out my bedroom as I rammed the pillow back down on my face.

  Joyce Colvin was a perplexing character. At one time, she was a complete hippie, even when it was no longer the thing. She experimented with “free love,” drugs, and a bit of radical protest, but
it was the ‘80s variety. Still, I grew up with Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks, who was obviously her favorite, Pat Benatar, and other amazing women singers. Mom protested and fought for women’s rights, government, and injustices in the world. A force and a great role model.

  Until my dad died.

  The woman I grew up admiring became someone I barely recognized. Clingy and needy, she lost her fire. All of a sudden I had an uptight mom who never swore or drank, was shocked to find me in bed with a girl in college, and shouted at me for smoking pot.

  My accident only altered her outlook on life for the worse. Insecure and fearful to be alone or let me out of her sight, she suffocated our relationship to the point I couldn’t handle being around her for long. It broke my heart to see the shift in her. The one time I brought it up, she got angry and defensive, saying that was a long time ago and she had grown up.

  If this was what being a grown-up looked like, I never wanted to be one.

  I knew she was lonely and heartbroken. Dad was her strength, her rock. Her fire went out when he died. Now only ash and shadows were left.

  Hell, maybe for me as well.

  My father, Emmett Colvin, was the lifeblood of this house. The glue. My mother and I fought all the time, two headstrong women constantly needing a referee. My mother loved me. I never had a doubt, but my dad and I got along from the day I was born. I was his sidekick and buddy. I adored him beyond belief, and I preferred going to him. Even when I got my period.

  My world shattered when I found he had cancer. His recovery was long and agonizing but he beat it. I remember the joy I felt when the doctor told us he was clear; the tumor was gone. My parents told me I was born cynical and sarcastic, but around my dad I was happy. Glass half-full kind of bullshit. Always smiling and laughing. That day gave me hope again, that life could be miraculous and wonderful. The hero did win in the end.

  A week later, life had to come back and show me how ruthless and cruel it was.

  “Stevie! Come on!” My mother’s voice rang through the small house. Similar to Jaymerson’s house, mine was more cottage than house. Funky and full of character, it was comfortable and homey. It technically had three bedrooms, but we only used the two tiny bedrooms for sleeping. Dad and Mom had turned the one supposed to be the “master bedroom” into a music room to hold their weekly band practice in. With three other members, John on drums, Kera on backup vocals and tambourine, Billy on bass guitar, my mom played piano, and my dad was the singer. Both loved music, but neither had been lucky enough to do it as a career. Still, nights and weekends turned into a constant music fest growing up.