Where I Belong
Chapter 22
HARDER TO BREATHE
ZED
Bonzo delighted in telling me all about the fact that Addison had a date. He grinned like a fucking idiot the entire time while my jaw popped with frustration. I had no idea who the fucker was she was going out with, but the idea of anyone putting their hands on what's mine very nearly sent me over the edge.
It's how it should be. I knew that, but it didn't stop my imagination from running on overdrive since the second he gave me all the details. I'm not sure what he was hoping to achieve by telling me the time and place they were meeting, but if it was for me to turn up and publicly claim her then he was going to be bitterly disappointed because that shit wasn't fucking happening. Or at least I didn't think it was.
Thankfully, I guess, I get a text from my brother Tuesday morning which means at least I won't be sitting around like a moron while she's on her date, driving myself insane wondering how they're getting on and if he's going to satisfy her quite like I did.
BUCKY: Mom & Pops' tonight. Suit to try on. Be there. No excuses.
Rolling my eyes at the phone, I send back a quick reply saying that I'll be there and slide it back into my pocket. I've only got one client booked in today. He's coming in for his second session on an intricate back piece that we've been working towards for some time, so at least I know I'll be able to focus on that all afternoon and not my impending family time, and certainly not Addison and her date.
Before I know it, I'm pushing through my parent's front door and making my way down towards the kitchen where I already know everyone will be.
"Whoa… you were right, he is still alive," my pops' says with a laugh when he spots me first.
"I'm sure you'd have heard if I weren't." He pulls me into a man hug and slaps me on the back. I'm kind of embarrassed by the fact that I've no idea when I was last here. All I know is that it's probably been too long seeing as they're really great parents. It's my fucked-up issues that keep me away.
Mom leaves whatever she's stirring on the stove and comes over to hug me. "I've missed you," she whispers in my ear, making my guilt over not visiting quadruple.
Pops hands me a beer and I pull out a stool from under the breakfast bar.
"Have you decided on a date for the wedding yet? Lacey needs her name."
I roll my eyes as Mom turns her back to the dinner. Of course, I don't have a date. I only said I'd bring a plus one to shut her up about me needing to settle down.
"I've got a couple of options." Pops almost chokes on his beer.
He pats me on the shoulder as he comes to sit beside me. "So what have you been up to? Where have you been?" Pops starts like they do every time I appear after a long absence.
"Just here and there. Spent some time in New York a few weeks ago. Not much to tell really." It's a lie, obviously, and like most times I'm here the truth is right on the tip of my tongue. But I can't help feeling that I've kept everything hidden for so long now that confessing everything will hurt them more, knowing that I felt like I couldn't confide in them from the beginning.
Thankfully, Bucky and Lacey arrive before Mom and Pops really get a chance to start digging. After a short and sharp welcome from my brother and a hug from my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Bucky thrusts a suit bag into my hands and all but drags me up the stairs so I can make sure it fits.
He drops down onto the bed in my childhood room after following me inside and crosses his arms. As usual, he's dressed in one of his flashy suits, making the differences between us as stark as ever with me in a ripped pair of jeans and a black t-shirt with my ink on display. His dark hair is perfectly styled and swept back from his freshly shaven face, whereas my green mop is a mess and I haven't shaved in at least two days.
"Nice of you to show your face for this," he barks, his eyes holding mine.
"I'm not going to miss your wedding."
"Forgive me for not having all that much confidence after you bailed on my bachelor party."
"It was golf," I groan, stripping off and pulling on the insanely expensive suit I'm being forced to wear to this thing. I hate suits. I hate how restrictive they are, and I hate how boring they are, although the hot pink lining this one is sporting does give it a bit of character, I must admit.
It fits perfectly, of course, seeing as it was tailored for me. My measurements were requested weeks ago so I had little doubt it wouldn't fit.
"It okay?"
"As far as a suit goes, it's great, I guess."
"Can you be at least a little excited about this? I don't want your miserable fucking face in our photographs."
"I'll smile, I promise," I mutter, giving him a flash of the fakest one I can muster.
"Such a pain in the ass." He pushes from the bed. "I know this is going to fall on deaf ears, but for the love of god, will you visit Mom and Pops a little more often? They worry about you."
"They don't need to."
"They're our parents, Zed. It's their job. You'll understand when you have your own."
"Yeah, that's not happening."
"You can't be a fucking nomad forever."
"I'm not. I have a home and a life. None of which involve me having kids."
"You say that now. Just wait until you meet the one."
"Are you even listening to me?"
He stops at the doorways, looks back over his shoulder, and laughs. "Oh, I'm listening. You're just forgetting who the oldest and more experienced out of us is. It will happen, Zed. And she'll knock you on your fucking ass, man." With that, he leaves me to remove the damn suit from my body.
Dinner is tolerable at best, but once Bree arrives and blends in with the rest of the family, I again feel like the outsider as they all sit and discuss the family business and mention people I've never heard of. I know that I bring a lot of this on myself by being distant, but I couldn't imagine anything worse than spending my days working with antiques.
I eat, drink, I make a few noises at the right time, and then the second I'm able to escape I do with the promise of seeing everyone Friday night at the hotel where the wedding is being held. I tried to tell them all that I'm not needed until Saturday morning, but Mom got this look on her face, her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes watered, and I knew that I didn't stand a chance.
My intention is to go straight home. The Uber I ordered drops me at the studio. It would be so easy to let myself in and go up to my apartment, but that's the opposite of what happens. Instead, I head to a bar in the hope of drowning my sorrows.
One whiskey soon turns into a few more, and eventually, I find myself surrounded by my crew as we all shoot the shit and get drunk off our asses.
I spot Bonzo looking at me inquisitively a number of times, but thankfully at no point does he even mutter her name. I'm grateful because I might be trying to play it cool, but the reality is that I'm picturing her taking him back to her apartment. I'm imagining just how he might touch her, how he'll make her feel.
When my frustration gets the better of me, making it harder and harder to breathe, I knock back my current drink and stand from the seat I'm in.
"I'm done. Laters."
My name is called a few times behind me at my sudden departure, but I ignore them all. I've got a destination in mind, and no fucker is going to talk me down right now.
The walk to her place is short, and in no time I'm slipping my way into her building and hammering my fist on her door in an attempt to break up whatever is happening inside.
I guess you could say I'm lucky that no one's home. At least if she's gone back to his place then I can't continue to keep picturing them in her bedroom.
Not knowing what to do, I slide my ass down the wall and rest my head back. I only intend to stay there for a few minutes before making the journey home but it's only a few seconds later that the sound of her heels click up the stairs. I could jump in the industrial-looking lift and disappear before she sees me but that's the opposite of what I do.
The relief I feel when she appears and I discover she's alone is greater than I'll ever admit. The sight of her all dressed up and swaying slightly after a long night stirs something inside, and it's strong enough to ensure I stay exactly where I am and take what I came here for. Her.
I step up to her and I'm no longer in control of my actions. My need, my desire for the woman takes over everything, and it's not until she's crying out my name and pulsating around my dick impossibly tightly that my senses start to slip back in.
Fuck.
My heart pounds erratically in my chest as I pull out and step back from her. She's laid out on her kitchen counter, looking every bit the seductress she is, and I panic.
My need to take her in my arms and carry her to bed so we can continue is almost all-consuming, but I know I can't. This woman isn't mine. She can't be mine. We're wrong on so many levels and spending this evening with my family is just a reminder of everything I don't want. Yet I can't help myself when it comes to Addison.
I intend on walking out without saying a word, but as I step back a warning falls from my lips which I fear gives too much away about how I'm feeling. There's no fucking way I'm sticking around to find out though. The faster I get away the better.
The rest of the week is fucking torture, and it only gets worse Thursday night knowing that she's out at the reception desk and almost within touching distance. It would be so easy to go out there and take her, to tell her the things that have been running through my head the last two days that involve things I never, ever thought I'd think, let alone ever consider saying out loud. If it weren't for this fucking wedding, I'd have fucked off by now, not able to cope with everything that's building inside me. I know I'm going to blow at some point. The only question is when.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy almost 2021!