Love Until It Hurts

LOVE UNTIL IT HURTS

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." – Mother Teresa

Chapter 1 – Charity

Have fun at the movies, Charity, my cousin Kayla said with a wink.

Kayla acted silly and naïve sometimes, but she knew the deal. I often wondered how innocent she really was. She’d managed to sweep Jesse O’Brien off his feet, a boy who’d never spared me more than a passing glance all through high school, even though we’d known each other since the third grade. No concern there, though. It wasn’t as if I’d ever wanted Jesse; I just never understood why he’d never asked me out.

And right now, Jesse O’Brien was the last guy on my mind. My sights were on Brock Ryan. It took all the control I possessed to keep myself from smiling from ear to ear as I led him out my grandmother’s front door. I was long past ready to leave. It was clear Brock was engrossed with me, too. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off me since I’d walked into the house. Thanksgiving with the family hadn’t been the drag I’d feared it would be, thanks to Brock coming with my cousin’s new father-in-law.

Dark features, sun-bronzed skin, tattooed, and drop-dead gorgeous, Brock was someone I could definitely spend a few delicious hours with. Not to mention his easy-going, laid-back attitude. He’d laughed and joked with my dad all evening, and when I’d joined in the conversation, he’d turned his attention to me, something I wasn’t accustomed to. Usually when I had something to add to a conversation, I couldn’t find an opening, or someone would over-talk me — especially at family gatherings. But not tonight. Brock had listened with interest when I’d started to chime in when he and my dad started discussing, Loving what you do for a living versus choosing a career for the money. Definitely interesting subject matter between a plastic surgeon and a plumber, and oddly enough, something Dad and I had discussed numerous times as he pushed me to choose a college.

But now, I was ready to get on with the evening.

Careful driving, Charity! My grandmother called behind us. Lots of drunk drivers out on holidays.

Will do, Gram! I waved over my head, then peeked up at Brock, wondering if his parents still watched him leave the house and called out to be careful. Even though I was tall, Brock was nearly a head taller than me. For the first time in my life, I actually felt short as he glanced down at me.

His hand, as light as a butterfly landing on a flower, touched the small of my back. Which car is yours?

The one at the end of the drive. I’d been the last to arrive, as always, which meant I didn’t have to wait for anyone to move their car when I was ready to bail.

His jaw dropped a notch. Umm … nice car.

It was a graduation gift from my parents, I offered, shrugging off his comment. My parents were always buying me expensive gifts. Or more often, giving me gift cards and money so I could buy my own gifts … like the new dress I was wearing. I couldn’t wait to show it off.

I’d been hesitant to go to a party at Morgan’s — my new BFF. But as long as Brock’s arm was around my waist — as light as his touch was — a party sounded like a perfect way to start the evening.

For the first time in more than eight months, I wouldn’t mind showing up at a party. Other than a few dates, I’d pretty much ignored keg party invitations, beach outings, and even shopping excursions. The thought of seeing my ex-boyfriend without someone on my arm had scared me more than starting college did. I simply didn’t want to be the poor dumped chick. I’d never been dumped. My ex was a moron. And tonight, I planned to prove it by showing up with a guy who was hotter than Nathan — or any of my friends’ boyfriends, for that matter. Who cared if Brock didn’t come from money? Nathan hadn’t either. He hadn’t even been popular before I’d started dating him. Besides, it wasn’t like I was interested in more than one night with Brock; a little arm candy and a few hours after the party was all I wanted.

As we approached the end of the driveway, I clicked the remote of my fire-red BMW convertible. Wanna drive? I asked the gorgeous stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger. When my cousin had mentioned that her father-in-law was bringing the young man who worked for him, I wasn’t the least bit interested. Brock was a plumber, just like Jesse. Except, unlike Jesse, Brock didn’t own his own company. I knew that fact alone would have my mom downing a couple extra Xanax tonight, along with her one glass of red wine, which I was pretty sure was actually three glasses. And she had the nerve to give me a hard time.

My mom was hell-bent on me marrying a doctor, as she’d done. I loved my father, but I wasn’t sure he was a great husband to my mother. Or, maybe it was the other way around. Dad and I were home alone together more often than my mom was with either of us. Between her job, shopping addiction, and social activities, I was lucky to see her for a few minutes during wardrobe changes from one event to the next. Even on the nights she stayed home, we merely passed in the hallway as she carried a goblet of vino into her bedroom with her miniature dogs trailing behind her.

Brock glided around me, reaching the driver’s side of my car ahead of me. Unlike how some of the guys I’d gone out with stumbled in front of me at the last second, realizing they should open a door to impress me, Brock was a natural — or at least his actions flowed naturally. Was it possible that someone so delicious-looking could actually be a gentleman? If so, not too much of a gentleman, I hoped.

He smiled as he held open the door. Nah, you go ahead, Charity —

Ugh. Call me Char! I cut off whatever he was going to say. The name Charity sounds like I should be a nun or something. I peered up at him as I lowered myself into the black leather seat, watching as his eyes moved up my legs to the hem of my dress. Sitting down in a micro mini dress left little room for error.

He grinned again. I’m sure I can find something to keep me busy inside that sweet ride … Char.

Brock closed the door, making his slow way around the hood. His playful comment made my insides heat up. It appeared he wasn’t too much of a gentleman. Which was good, because he was as sexy as all get out. And it’d been way too long since I’d felt a hard body against mine. I wasn’t the purest girl in Pinellas County, but I wasn’t a slut either. Ever since Nathan ditched me over spring break, I hadn’t found a guy worthy of doing anything. Some girls didn’t care, but I’d be damned if I was gonna give it away to some loser. Nope. I had to show Nathan that I only traded up.

I turned the ignition and shifted the car into drive, glancing in Brock’s direction. So you wanted me to drive you home so you could play with my instruments?

He repositioned his long legs, angling his body toward me. Home? I thought we were meeting your friends at the movies.

I shrugged. Nothing good’s showing. I just told my parents I was going to the movies so they wouldn’t razz me about where I really wanted to go.

Oh … For the first time tonight, his dark features actually looked — dark. Brooding even. Well, thanks for the ride home then.

A laugh almost popped out of my mouth at his dejected expression. I stopped at the end of the driveway before pulling onto the road and turned to him, allowing just a small smile to escape. Don’t look so discouraged, Brock. I thought we could do something else.

He offered me a quick quirk of his lips, nothing like the smiles I’d received from him over the last couple of hours. Such as? he asked, his tone a bit curt.

Had he really wanted to go to the movies that badly? Earlier, he’d seemed a tad sullen, even behind the laughter. I’d seen him stare out the windows a few times, as if a million miles away. Just the fact that he was at my house for Thanksgiving dinner hinted that he was all alone. Then again, he’d been texting someone, so maybe his family just didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. My eyes trailed over his dark, but faded-in-all-the-right-places jeans and his plain black T-shirt with just a tip of a tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve. I’d pondered all night about that tiny tip of ink, wondering what was hiding under the thin cotton. The last thing I wanted was to waste two hours at a movie theater.

A party, I finally said, hoping he’d be up for a house party with a bunch of strangers.

He nodded slowly, as though he wasn’t sure. Accepting his consent, though, I pulled out of the driveway and headed south. All I had to do was get Brock to the party. When I walked in with an older, better-looking man than Nathan, I’d be the one on top again. Not that I wanted to get back together with Nathan; I didn’t. But I was tired of everyone tiptoeing around me, treating me like a rejected maiden who would end up sad and alone. A spinster like in one of those old movies my grandmother always watched. How pathetic women had been back then. Especially since Nathan was the one who’d needed me, who’d said he would die without me. But then he’d broken up with me out of the blue and clearly hadn’t died.

A few minutes down the road, I pulled into a convenience store parking lot. Can you get a couple six-packs of Mike’s? I asked, handing Brock a fifty. Get whatever you like too.

Brock narrowed his eyes. Mike’s? As in Mike’s Hard Lemonade?

Yeah. I like the strawberry if they have it, but if not, regular is good. Get any type of beer and snacks you want, too. There’s probably a keg at Morgan’s, but it’s usually the cheap stuff.

Brock snatched the bill out of my hand and dropped it on my lap. I should have known. Another spoiled rich girl who thinks she can get anything she wants with money. He released a short huff. "Take me home, Char."

What did I say?

His nostrils actually flared. Where would you like me to start? First you lie about where we’re going, then you try to pay me off to buy you alcohol. I don’t need your money. I make good money at what I do. It may not be as much as your daddy the doctor makes, but I do well enough. Obviously you needed someone old enough to buy you liquor, and thought that the poor little plumber needed money. Just take me home.

I stared down at the fifty then back at him. I don’t need you to buy me liquor. I have a fake ID. I’ve never had an issue getting what I want —

Good! You don’t need me, then. He looked around the parking lot as though someone were watching us. What did he think? That I was setting him up with the cops or something?

Confused, I blew out a breath and stared at the back of his head. Seriously? You’re upset because I offered you money to buy alcohol?

Take me home, please.

You live all the way in Pinellas Park. I’ll take you home after the party.

Brock grabbed the door handle and shoved open the door. Fine! I’ll call a cab.

Wait. I grabbed his arm, and he whipped around like a viper ready to attack. What had happened to the guy I’d been flirting with all evening? I swear I wasn’t trying to buy you off. Can we just start over?

My mistake, he said in a low grumble. Just take me home, please.

Brock … I held onto his arm, leaning closer. I don’t want to take you home yet. And I didn’t, I realized. I’d told myself that I just wanted a little arm-candy, but truth told, I was a bit scared. And Brock seemed like a nice guy.

He shuttered his eyes, then opened them, looking down at my lap instead of my chest, which was right in front of him. He snatched up the fifty and rocketed out of the car before I could stop him.

Shocked, I watched as he stormed off, slamming his way into the store. Was he going to take my fifty and call a cab?

He walked to the back of the store, then headed to the cashier, a six-pack of Mike’s in his hand, another tucked under his arm. He set the items on the counter, then pointed to something behind the man. He paid the cashier with the fifty he still had clenched in his fist, then dumped the change in the bag. Hands full, he headed back to the car, plopping down in the seat with a long exhale.

Without a glance in my direction, Brock lifted something out of the bag and set it in the pocket of the door, then dropped the bag in the back seat. Now will you take me home?

Happy he’d returned to me, I started the car and sped off before he could change his mind. I told you, I didn’t need you to buy me alcohol. And no, I won’t drop you off yet. I want you to come out with me.

Apparently still ticked, he smacked his head against the headrest. Why?

Damn, Brock! What happened? We were having such a good time at the house. At the first light, I chanced a peek at him, wondering how I had made him so angry so quickly. He’d mentioned the money, but really, who got upset about that anymore? Women paid their way all the time. I’d never had a guy get mad at me for paying, especially since my father gave me such a large allowance. And why would he care that I lied about something so inconsequential?

His hazel eyes darted up to meet mine. Even with his brow lowered in annoyance, I was momentarily stunned by the contrast of how his dark lashes and brows framed his beautiful light eyes. "We were having a good time, Charity. Until you lied to me, then insulted me. I don’t like to be lied to, and I don’t need a rich snob insulting me. I got plenty of that from my ex-wife."

He was ticked. I’d caused that reaction. Or … his ex-wife had caused it. I didn’t mean to offend you. It just seems that if I ask you to buy something, I should offer you money. And I lied to my parents, not you. I just asked if you wanted to come along.

Where’s the party? His tone was gruff, still no sign of the guy I’d been talking with all evening.

Content that he was coming with me, though, I smiled. Not far. A couple of miles. He wasn’t happy, but at least he wasn’t jumping out of the car. I couldn’t let him know how much I really wanted him to go. Why I needed him beside me. I couldn’t let another man have the upper hand. If a man thought you needed him, he could hurt you.

Brock sat back in his seat, evidently deciding not to fight me anymore.

My eyes flitted to his long legs sheathed in those sexy jeans. How old are you, anyway? I figured he was a few years older than me, but he seemed too young to already have an ex-wife.

Twenty-two, he said through nearly clenched teeth. You?

I’ll be nineteen in a few months.

He released a short huff.

Ignoring his suddenly cranky attitude and hoping to learn a little more about the guy I’d enjoyed talking to all evening, I asked the question I really wanted to know, How long were you married?

Three years.

How long have you been divorced?

He shifted in his seat, and I could feel those intriguing eyes of his narrowing at me again.

You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just curious. I stole a glance in his direction to see if he was still sulking.

His shoulders lifted and dropped as if he didn’t want to talk about it, but then he shook his head as if it didn’t really matter. Florida has a real quick process, a ‘Simplified Dissolution of Marriage,’ they call it. We didn’t have any kids or joint assets, and she definitely wasn’t going to try to sue me for alimony, so she demanded a divorce in September, and less than thirty days later, it was official.

Since I didn’t want to hear about his ex, I decided to change the subject back to his work. Earlier, he’d opened up when my dad asked him about his work, so maybe it’d work again. How long have you worked for Jesse’s dad?

Brock drummed his fingers on the center console. About a month.

I slowed as we approached Morgan’s house. Morgan and I had gotten close in the last eight months, so she’d definitely want details about Brock, too. I’d only been using Morgan at first, looking for dirt on Jesse, but she and I had become friends over the last eight months. At least, I thought we were friends. I’d never really had any real girlfriends, so I wasn’t quite sure. Probably we just felt we had something in common because we both felt jilted by our ex-boyfriends. Plus, I was the only person who knew she’d had an abortion.

Do you like being a plumber? I asked as I slowed the car to a near crawl.

Not really.

Not sure where to go after that answer, since that had been the major discussion earlier in the evening, and I’d assumed he liked his job, I focused on finding a place to park.

Morgan’s front yard, which normally had a spectacular view of the inland waterway of the Gulf of Mexico, was packed with cars. Evidently, I wasn’t the only teenager who wanted to get out of the house on Thanksgiving after being cooped up with family all day. Morgan had said that her parents would be out of town until Sunday, so anyone who wanted to crash at the party should bring a sleeping bag. I’d stashed mine in the trunk of my car earlier in the day. Hopefully, I wouldn’t need it, though. All I wanted was an hour or so at the party, to see if Nathan showed up; then I’d be more than happy to take Brock home.

A Mercedes pulled out of a spot near the road so I darted into it. After shifting into park, I leaned over the center console and stared up at Brock, hoping he was in a better mood. Ready?

He released a short puff of air resembling a laugh, then reached into the door pocket. He sure huffed a lot, but maybe that was because I’d supposedly blindsided him. As much as I wanted to get him inside the house, I really wanted him to loosen up. I’d told myself that I only wanted to make Nathan and