Things We Left Behind (Knockemout, #3)

by Lucy Score

“I don’t like who either of us becomes when we’re together,” he said. I scoffed. “You think I like this?” “I think you love it.” Had he moved closer? Or was I leaning toward him? My knees were almost close enough to brush the sharp creases of his trousers. We were magnetized to each other. Enemies drawn together again and again. I was so damn tired of it. There was an electric tension growing in the space between us. Like when the hair on your arms stands up just before a lightning strike.

“Do not play with me, Pixie,” he growled. His words were a warning, but those eyes were open now, and I saw something else in them. Something fiery. My biological instincts were scrambled. Instead of fight or flight, my body seemed to have added a third option: fuck.

My fingers began to ache, and I realized I still had them locked around his tie. His mouth hovered over mine, not quite touching. We were breathing the same air as our bodies caught fire. My head was spinning, flinging away all logic as I clung to the one thing that felt right. Him. I wanted this. I wanted him.

“I know you well enough to understand you take every precaution to protect those you care about. My concern is for you. Do you give yourself the same care?” “Can’t you just tell me how to stop feeling all these feelings so I can focus on what needs to be accomplished?” I asked, staring into the glass. “If we were in a session, I’d say something thought-provoking about how sometimes the feelings we resist the most are the ones that have the most to teach us. Then we could discuss why, in an itemized list of situations anyone would find challenging, you’re most concerned with a woman from your past. One you claim to have nothing but animosity toward. But we’re just two friends about to order pizza so we don’t have to eat the smoking meteor in my kitchen. As a friend, I’ll ask this. Why is a visit from a public librarian more disconcerting to you than the fact that a mob boss might be aware you’re helping the FBI build a case against him?”

“Because she reminds me of a past I’d rather forget,” I said out loud. “She betrayed me when I was vulnerable.” And today she’d spread her thighs for me, perched on my desk like she belonged there. Like she wanted to be there. Like she wanted me there.

I already didn’t like where this was going. “What are you getting at?” “As a reasonably intelligent man, I’m going to assume that you know you can’t just forget the past or pretend it doesn’t exist. And as you’ve spent significant time in therapy with a brilliant therapist, I’ll remind you that the only way out is through. You can’t just keep putting your emotions in a box with a lid and expecting them to stay there. That’s not what feelings do.”

“Then I’ll remind you that we both know why letting those emotions out of their box is dangerous.” “You have a lot more control than you give yourself credit for,” he pointed out. “That control hinges on not letting my emotions get the better of me.” “There’s a difference between quelling impulses that everyone has and refusing to acknowledge any feeling at all.” I scoffed. “I have feelings that I acknowledge all the time.”

“Lucian, I don’t pity you for what you went through as a child any more than I excuse you from doing the hard work of realizing you are a whole, complicated man capable of not only experiencing happiness but sustaining it.” “Why is everyone so obsessed with happiness? There are other aims a bit more worthy than walking around with an idiotic grin on my face.” “Let me say this. You’re a grown man who has achieved wild levels of success, which in itself is impressive. But when you factor in your upbringing, it’s downright miraculous. Trust yourself to handle having feelings. Even the uncomfortable ones.”

Our bickering had always turned me on. It was a weakness that made me feel pathetic. But today she’d taunted me on my own turf, and my cock had risen to the occasion so swiftly I’d gone light-headed. I’d wanted her. I’d craved her. And I would have had her right there on that desk.

“Sooner or later, my friend, you’ll learn that embracing the messiness of life is where you find its greatest treasures.”

closed my fingers around the knight’s head and moved it deeper into enemy territory. “Remember, you can’t just go on the attack willy-nilly,” Mr. Walton explained. “You need to have a plan. A strategy. You can’t just think about what you’re going to do. You have to predict what your opponent is going to do.”

Broken men broke women.

She didn’t know the real reason why I didn’t want anyone to know about us. If my father had an inkling that something mattered to me, he destroyed it or ruined it in whatever way he could. The only thing he “allowed” me to have was football because it meant something to him to have a son who excelled on the field. But if he ever had a hint that Sloane meant something to me, that I valued her, he would inflict damage. And if he did, if he managed to hurt her in some way, I didn’t think I could live with that…or let him live.

“Stop,” I whispered, gathering her into my arms as I stood. She wrapped her arms around my waist and held on tight. Her face pressed against my chest. I hated how good this physical affection from her felt. It wasn’t the way I felt about Brandy Kleinbauer when I’d lost my virginity to her at barely sixteen. Or the hormonal longing I’d felt for Cindy Crawford all through junior high. And it wasn’t what I felt for Addie, my on-again, off-again weekend hookup. This was…more complicated. I liked Sloane. I wanted to keep her safe. And every time we touched, no matter how innocently, part of me wished for more. But that wasn’t an option. I was broken and she was beautiful.

It was selfish and absolutely stupid, I thought, as I toed off my shoes. If Sloane’s dad were to come in here and find me in his daughter’s bed, he’d never forgive me. Even if I tried to explain. He knew how special she was, and he could sense how damaged I was. That was why they were so nice. Because they felt sorry for me.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, Lucian? Like if he gets too out of control, you won’t let him…you know.” Kill me. Kill my mother. I would kill him first. Even if it sealed my fate as a monster. Like father, like son, I thought. “I promise if you promise me you won’t call the cops. Ever. No matter what.”

“Does your not girlfriend know about any of this?” she pressed. “No. And we’re not seeing each other anymore.” She’d gotten a little too demanding. Wanting to make plans, wanting to meet my parents. I couldn’t give her any of that. And I didn’t want to either after I’d overheard her telling one of her friends that the busty Sloane Walton was definitely a slut. “Oh?” she said innocently. “You don’t look broken up about it,” I observed. She shrugged. “She just wasn’t very nice. You could do better. But if you did do better and you were with someone nice, I guess we wouldn’t get to hang out like this. And I kind of like our secret little friendship or…whatever.” Friendship didn’t describe what I felt for her. I was friends with Knox and Nash Morgan. But I sure as hell wouldn’t curl up with them in a pillow nest to listen to music. Hell, I wouldn’t do that with Addie either. Maybe Cindy Crawford. “I like us too,” I told her.

caught a glimpse of the bright smile she couldn’t quite hide as she ducked her head and reached for the CD player. I slid my arm around her shoulder and guided her head to rest on my chest. Between the pillows, Shania Twain’s “From This Moment On,” and the soft, warm heat of Sloane pressed up against me, I felt almost happy. I could nearly pretend that this was my life. Here in this house. With the good, sweet girl in my arms. The song was over too quickly, changing to a country anthem. Something about black eyes and blue tears. She was never going back. It must have been the exhaustion that painted the story in my head. Walking away. Moving on. Growing up. For a second, I wanted it so badly that I didn’t realize how tight I was clinging to Sloane until my fingers started to ache. Wincing, I relaxed my grip on her. She tilted her head to look up at me. “It’s okay. You can hang on to me. I won’t break.” I pushed her face back down and resumed my hold on her, keeping it gentle this time.

My social life consisted of me being the fifth wheel tagging along with two couples with smoldering hot sex lives. Ugh. I really needed to make some changes in my life. I wanted to be the one making my friends uncomfortable with over-the-top PDA. I wanted to be making plans for the future with my hot life partner with a large penis. A salacious memory of Lucian’s trouser-covered erection immediately appeared in my mind. No! Bad, brain! Bad. Lucian was not life partner material.

It was cluttered, colorful, and chaotic. Just like me. A delightful hot mess such as myself did not belong with an emotionally stunted neat freak. Not even between the sheets. No, if I was serious about finding my life partner, I needed to focus on that. Not the potential of really hot sex with a guy I didn’t actually like.

“Imagined what?” “You. Me. The cherry tree. I thought we were friends.” “We were. Once.” He layered blame on top of that one syllable until it was all I heard. “I don’t get you. I didn’t get you as a high school senior, and I don’t get you as a business mogul. And I sure as hell don’t get what happened yesterday.” His eyes changed. It was an almost imperceptible shift, but I’d spent a lifetime studying him and didn’t miss the glint of silver.

The air in the room was electric. I could practically see the sparks flying between us. But they weren’t the romantic, will-they-won’t-they sparks. These were the kind that burned things to the ground. The kind that destroyed everything in their wake. Through my window, the late afternoon sun bathed his face in golden glow and shadows.

“As always, you’re infuriating, irresponsible, and immature.” His tone was flippant, as if I were barely worth the effort to insult. “And you’re a mercurial pain in my ass,” I pointed out, feeling the sting. “Always so charming. It’s such a mystery why you’re still single.”

“You’re late for your next ritual sacrifice, Lucifer. You’d better be going.” He smirked. “Thank you for reminding me why our relationship is what it is. Every once in a while, I manage to forget what you really are.” “Is that so? And just what do you think I am?” I asked. “Dangerous.”

“I’ll be honest. I don’t care about dinner or our friendship that much,” I said, pulling my car keys out of my pocket. Sloane put her hands on her hips in triumph. “Good riddance.” Knox snatched the keys from me. “I don’t think you’re hearing me. Naomi has decided you both can’t be invited to the same social shit. Which means she’ll schedule twice as much social shit to make sure both of you pains in the ass get the same amount of quality fucking time with us. And I don’t want more social shit. I don’t want more quality fucking time. I want you two to put aside your petty ‘we have a secret feud that we won’t talk about’ bullshit and make my wife forget that you can’t stand each other.” “This is ridiculous,” I insisted. “No. You’re fucking ridiculous for making me do this. So either you both go in there strapped up to these toys, pretend to be adults for the evening, and make my wife happy, or you both go the hell home and think about how stupid you must be for making me the fucking voice of reason in this scenario.”

“We’re calling a truce,” I announced. “That’s not how that works.” “I’m forty years old. I run a multimillion-dollar business. I own property. I pay taxes. I vote. I cook. I get the goddamn flu shot every year.” “Congratulations. Where can I send your gold star?” “We’re adults,” I said, pointing to the window where it appeared chaos was still reigning. “And that in there was the latest performance in a long line of immature shit shows that we’ve starred in together.” Sloane crossed her arms and looked down at her feet. Her boots were brown with purple stitching. “I’m not saying you’re right. But you’re not exactly wrong.” “This has to stop.” She puffed out her cheeks. The light from inside made the stud in her nose twinkle. She looked like a mischievous forest fairy. “I know.” She turned away from me and moved to the railing. “I hate that every conversation with you has me regressing to a teenager with no impulse control. It’s embarrassing.” “I hate that I let you get under my skin. It’s infuriating,” I admitted.

“In the future, if you feel you can’t control yourself and the need to insult me is too overwhelming, we’ll deal with it privately,” I suggested, exhaling smoke toward the moon. “Me?” She turned and looked up at me. “You didn’t even make it through your first taco tonight before cracking like an egg.” “Yes, well. It’s over now.” I both loved and hated it when I had her undivided attention. I forced myself to look away from her. “From now on, to me you’ll just be the vaguely racist, misogynistic, hard of hearing uncle everyone avoids engaging with at Thanksgiving.” “And you are nothing more than Naomi and Lina’s annoying invisible friend I pretend to acknowledge when they insist on setting a place at the table for you,” I said. Sloane stepped away from the railing and held out her hand. “Deal?” I covered her hand with mine. It was so small, and delicate in my grip. “Deal.”

Lucian was looking at me with a strangely murderous expression on his face. I stared back. “Oh, I think we’ve got one. You look all smoldery and sexy,” Lina said, studying the phone screen. Naomi peeked over her shoulder. “Yet approachable and interesting.” Knox and Nash leaned in to give their opinions. “Hot, but not too hot,” Knox decided. “You’ll land a husband in no time,” Nash agreed. “And we’ll make sure he’s worthy when you do.” “Let me see,” I demanded. I glanced at the screen when they held it up and felt heat rise in my cheeks. I’d been giving Lucian the side-eye. That was how I looked when I looked at him? My chin was jutted out, lips parted, eyes smoldering. I looked hot…and horny. Damn. I actually looked good.

“There are some things we never get over. Some things we hide from the light,”

“Bitterness is a waste of energy. All I can do is make the best of this situation.”

“I’m fucking serious, Sloane. What precautions are you taking? Where is this date? Who knows you’ll be there?” She gripped my coat by the lapels. “Calm the fuck down, Lucifer. It’s in Lawlerville. Lina and Naomi are tracking my phone with a locater app. I sent them screenshots of his profile and our chat. I’m texting them a picture of him when I get there and proof-of-life messages every thirty minutes. If things go downhill, Stef is on deck to call me with a fake emergency forty-five minutes into the date, because I can handle pretty much anything for forty-five minutes, right? If things go really badly, I have pepper spray and a big, fat hardback in my bag. Is that good enough, Suit Daddy?”

With flaming cheeks, I watched him march Euge out the door like a puppet. The rest of the diners were riveted. I was debating texting Lina and Naomi when the woman at the table next to me leaned over. “Girl, I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’m a nurse and if you don’t go home with Tall, Dark, and Tight Crotch, I’m gonna check you for head trauma.” The man next to her nodded. “I’m her husband, and even I think Suit Guy is fucking hot.”

“Why wouldn’t you take money when it’s offered, Sloane?” Because it was his. Because he’d hurt me. Because I’d hurt him. Because the last time our lives had gotten tangled up, neither of us had ever recovered.

“Because I’ve always wanted one. I always assumed I’d have one. I want what my parents had. I want to give my mom grandkids who are so excited to see her they smash their sticky little faces up against the windows just to watch for her car. I want a house full of people.”

She handed over the utensil. “Teamwork makes the dream work.” We both froze. I’d heard the phrase a few hundred thousand times in the Walton kitchen, mostly from Simon when he and Karen shared meal prep duties. I didn’t know where to look. The glimpse of raw grief as it flitted across her face was like a knife to my heart. I wasn’t equipped to deal with emotions like that. I handled problems, presented solutions. I didn’t navigate personal loss with someone, no matter how much I loved them.

It was a dance we’d been locked into for years. Every time one of us showed a side that was a little too human, the other managed to strike. Walls were rebuilt, animosity reinforced. We kept relearning the same lesson over and over again, but it never stuck. We weren’t good for each other. I wasn’t good for her. And I could never trust a woman who had so thoroughly betrayed me.

To add to my already bad mood, I’d spent the past few days ruminating about Lucian. Lucian having dinner with my mom. Lucian texting me from bed. Lucian generously giving his employee a brand-new SUV. Lucian almost kissing me in his office. Lucian working with the FBI to take down one of the most dangerous criminals in the Mid-Atlantic region area. Lucian naked, crooking his finger at me. That last one hit me in the shower yesterday after I spied his Range Rover in the driveway. Then again right before bed…and when I woke up… I liked it better when I only occasionally remembered that the man existed.

We were on a never-ending roller coaster of insults, sexual awareness, bitterness, and flirtation. And it was time to put an end to it. I wanted to get off this ride so I could focus my energy on what I actually wanted…which was not Lucian Rollins. I marched up the walkway to his front door, finger poised to jab his doorbell, when the door swung open. “What?” Lucian demanded.

“Sometimes you have to stop waiting for something to happen and start making it happen,” I said.

don’t believe you.” “I don’t care,” I snapped back. His grin was devastating and fleeting. I examined my fingernails and feigned boredom. “Just out of curiosity, what don’t you believe?” “You’re not going to settle for a man just because he ticks off the ‘potential father material’ box. That’s not how you’re wired.” “Oh, and how exactly am I wired?” He moved quickly, like a beast lunging for its prey. I found him standing between my knees, caging me in with his hands on the counter. “You’re wired to want a man who’s going to live up to every one of those heroes you read about. The ones who fight for their woman, who drag her off into dark corners because they can’t stand not touching her a moment longer. The ones who would do anything for her. That’s what you want.”

can’t believe this. They should both be here.” “Who?” I stopped my frenetic pacing to look up at him. “Our fathers. Mine should be here because he was good and kind and smart and wonderful. He should be here playing with his granddaughter, planning a Mediterranean cruise with Mom, and helping us get Mary Louise out of prison. And that vile excuse for a human being who called himself your father should be here suffering every minute of every day for what he did to you.”

“He didn’t ruin me,” he insisted. “I didn’t let him stop me from building this life.” “Lucian, what life?” My voice cracked. “I have more money and power than—” “You have things. You have millions of dollars and acquaintances in high places. You work every waking hour of the day. But none of that made you happy. You rescued the family name so it would never be associated with him, and that’s great, but that name ends with you. You got a vasectomy because he made you believe you were damaged.”

“Not everyone gets to be happy, Sloane.” “See? That right there.” I shoved a finger in his face. “He ruined you. He ruined us.” For a second, Lucian looked shell-shocked. He looked as if I’d hit him. And then the mask slid into place again. He released me and took a step back. But now that I’d gotten started, I couldn’t stop. I closed the distance between us and said the words I’d been choking on since I was fifteen. “He took a sweet, smart, beautiful boy and made him feel broken. And I will never forgive him for that.” “He didn’t ruin me. I am who I am in spite of him.” “No. You’re who you are to spite him,” I countered. “Every time you make a choice based on what he would or wouldn’t do, you’re still giving him the power. He’s still ruining you. First from prison and now from the grave.” Lucian didn’t look happy about my astute assessment. He looked downright pissed. His jaw worked under his pristinely trimmed beard. “Think what you will. But one thing he didn’t do was ruin us. You did that on your own.”

We were so close in some ways and yet practically strangers in others. There was the Lucian I saw at school. The beautiful boy with the entourage. The one who’d wink at me or give my ponytail a tug when no one else was looking. Then there was the Lucian who had dinner three nights a week at my parents’ table. Polite, respectful, quiet. The one who’d volunteered to teach me to drive in the high school parking lot on Sundays after my mom said her blood pressure couldn’t take it. And there was the Lucian who climbed through my window. He was funny and broody and smart and interested in me. We argued for hours over music and movies and books. Sometimes he read what I was reading just so we could talk about it. He’d even coached me through my first real relationship with Trevor Whitmer, a sophomore trombone player with an in-ground pool.

A wave of hopelessness crashed over me. “You don’t want to get involved in this, Mr. Walton. It’s not safe.” He reached in the car and put his hand on my shoulder. “We’re not abandoning you, Lucian. You’re a good kid on your way to being a good man. I’m going to fix this.” On the way to the police station, I found myself wondering why some people dedicated their lives to fixing things while others set out only to break them. Not that it mattered anymore. I was one of the broken.

“I thought you were getting serious about…dating,” I said. She shrugged and the motion drew my attention back to her cleavage. My cock throbbed painfully against my zipper. “I was. I am,” she corrected. “I just haven’t met anyone worth dating, let alone anyone I’d let give me a few orgasms. So here I am. Sex is a good stress reliever.”

“You sneaky son of a bitch,” she hissed. Her knee was now pressed firmly against my balls. “Either you and I go upstairs now, or I shadow you for the rest of the night,” I warned. “You devious bastard.” “Decide.” “Fine,” she said with a careless shrug. “I’ll fuck your brains out for one night only. But don’t think this means anything.”

This was a bonkers idea. It was so stupid I still wasn’t sure I was going to say yes once we got to my room. Could two people who rubbed each other so wrong figure out how to rub each other the right way for just one night? Doubtful. This was definitely a mistake. A big, dumb mistake.

His next kiss was tempered, restrained. My eyelids popped open. Lucian Rollins was afraid of hurting me. The big, evil asshole was afraid of fucking me too hard with his giant penis. “Jesus, big guy. I’m petite, not fragile. Get over it.” “Just because I want you out of my life doesn’t mean I want to hurt you.” I gripped his waist with my thighs and squeezed. “Either fuck me hard and fast or get out of my room so I can find someone who will. I don’t want to be treated like some glass figurine.” “You always think you can handle more than you can,” he said, removing his hand from my wrists and curling his fingers into the neckline of my dress.

“You’d be a lot more attractive if you’d shut up.” “Your dick doesn’t seem to mind my mouth,” I pointed out. I was going for sheer bravado at this point.