Page 35 of Breaking the Alpha (Serpent’s Tongue Ink #2)

A ngelina steeled her resolve as she opened her door to find River on her porch, his hands shoved in the back pockets of his shredded jeans.

The top three buttons of his Henley were undone, framing the bloodstone pendant and some of the most intricate fragments of the tattoo stretching across his chest. The tension in his clean-shaven jaw was echoed in his forearms, the muscles taut and strained.

God, he was beautiful.

She backed up, noticing he didn’t have his crutches with him as he limped inside. “Sorry I’m late. I had to finish up some laundry and pack.”

“What time do you fly out?” she asked, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and anchor him to her.

But she kept her hands to herself. And he did the same.

“The plane takes off at ten, so I have to hit the road early.”

She nodded, ignoring the slap her heart took with the reminder she wasn’t going to be the one to see him off. Because he hadn’t asked her. “When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure yet. I think it depends on whether or not I can hold the contracts I have looking like this. Could be days. Could be months.”

“Do you want to come in and sit?”

His gaze dropped to her lips for a moment before lifting.

“I get the feeling I’m going to need to be sitting for this.

” He followed her into the living room and sat on the sofa, his eyes on her as she took up position on the armchair and tucked her legs under herself.

“I don’t suppose we’re going to talk about the benefits of anticipation when it comes to me leaving, are we? ”

“I suppose it depends on how honest you’re going to be with me tonight. And with yourself.”

She could see his hackles rising as he leaned forward and grimaced. He clasped his hands together until his knuckles whitened. “I’m always honest with you, Angel. What have I done to make you think I’ve ever lied to you? Why the hell would you even say that?”

“Because you aren’t honest with yourself,” she said, fighting the urge to cross her arms. “Until you are, you can’t be truly honest with me, can you?

” When he responded with the narrowing of his eyes, she grasped at the bauble around her neck and twirled it to center herself.

“I’m not sure you know where you want to be, what you want to do, or who you feel you need to answer to. And until you figure it out—”

“I want you,” he interrupted. “I know that. I can go from there.”

“Except I can’t,” she replied softly. “I can’t stand in front of you and I can’t stand behind you.

I can’t hide you and I can’t follow you.

You’re living two separate lives, neither make you truly happy, and I can’t fix it.

” Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked to keep them from falling.

“I’m already too invested in you, River.

Too invested in you and too invested in your family.

I—we—need to take a step back so you can figure out which life will make you happy. ”

“You make me happy!” he roared as he shoved his hands through his hair and looked up at the ceiling before exhaling and lowering his voice. “So this is nothing? You and me? We’re just, what, done because I have to leave for work?”

She spun the beads on her bracelet over and over. “No, River. We’re done because I can’t keep going like this, waiting for the rug to be ripped out from under me.”

“And your solution is to rip it out yourself?” Before she could respond, he got to his feet and shook his head as he stormed to the door, his gait uneven.

“I came over here thinking we could figure it out. Thinking maybe we were strong enough together to handle a long-distance thing. I didn’t think I’d be listening to some cryptic ‘get to know yourself’ bullshit breakup excuse.

Because that’s what it is, Angel. It’s an excuse. A bullshit excuse.”

She stood, her heart hammering in her chest as he flung the door open. “River, please,” she begged, skidding to a stop in the foyer and grabbing his hand. “Please stay so we can talk this out.”

He froze for a moment, but didn’t look back at her. “I can’t. I just…I need to go. I’ll call you when I get home, okay, babe?”

She watched him give the ugly purple giraffe a quick pat before he got in his car and drove away. His taillights disappeared and she closed her door, slumping against it as her heartbreak tore through her.

*

Eight weeks later, River found himself sitting in another makeup chair, tuning out the discussion around him.

He didn’t need to hear the breakdown of how the artists surrounding him would hide his new and old scars.

The topic had already been exhausted three weeks ago with his first post-accident photo shoot.

He flipped through his social media and added a picture he’d taken earlier that day, a decent selfie of himself against the sunrise view from his apartment balcony. After adding a few hashtags, he posted it, closed the app, and let himself zone out until he was deemed ready to go.

“Okay, babe, I think we’re done here,” the lead makeup artist said, her bright blue eyes scanning his naked torso with a mix of clinical indifference and feminine appreciation. “You look perfect now.”

Yeah. Now.

“Thanks.” He stilled for the stylist when she walked by and touched up his hair.

The makeup artist hung around until everyone else vacated the immediate area. “What are you doing after the shoot? Any big plans?”

“Yeah. Going home and showering all this shit off.”

She smiled at him. “A few of us are heading out to a lounge up the road. Why don’t you join us? I promise a better time than going home alone.”

She was gorgeous in that perfectly done-up way. Friendly. Treated her staff decently, from what he saw. She was also at least twenty years older than he was.

But what she wasn’t was a pretty little bohemian who he refused to think about more than a thousand times a day.

His phone buzzed and he glanced down, saved by Birch’s call. “Hey, man,” he answered, giving the artist an apologetic shrug as he got up. He walked away, not bothering to hide the slight hitch still present in his gait. “How’s it going there?”

“Business is good, the other stuff still sucks. What are you up to?”

“Prepping for a denim photo shoot. Posing like a show pony. You know the drill.”

“You killed it on that tuxedo spread thing. The women around here are still drooling over you. Jocelyn’s mom included.” He could hear the smile in his brother’s voice and it sunk into a knot in his gut. “I told you you’d own that fucking town.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt. “How’s Grey?”

“Still good,” Birch said, the jovial tone gone. “I don’t know, Riv. He dove right back into his courses and is kicking ass. But I keep waiting for the shoe to drop, for the breakdown I know has to be coming.”

“Take the win for now and just be ready,” he counseled, knowing he was the last guy on earth who should be giving life advice. “I better run. Tell Jocelyn and Grey hi for me.”

“Will do. But wait, River,” his brother called out moments before he hung up. “Yesterday I stopped by Wholly Yours to invite Angelina over for dinner. She said you two broke up.”

Turning his back to anyone in the vicinity who might see his expression, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, we did.”

“She said you two broke up the night before you left. Jesus, River. Why didn’t you tell me? Are you okay? Is she?”

“Baker,” Jodie’s voice called over the din of photographers, stagers, and stylists. “You’re on. Get that ass into those stonewashed bootcuts.”

Fighting the urge to run his hand through his hair, he sighed. “I’m fine. Life out here just got busy. I really gotta go. I’ll call you later this week.”

This time, he hung up without hesitation.

Shoving aside every question he wanted to ask Birch about his meetup with Angelina, he grabbed the jeans and hiked them over his hips.

He closed his eyes for a moment to bring up the memory he needed and gave his bloodstone pendant a squeeze.

Putting on his best fuck-me-ten-ways-from-Sunday expression, he walked into position.

*

Angelina reached under her counter, pulled out an emerald-green pendant necklace, and passed it to Zoe. “This will look spectacular with that shirt.”

Zoe ooh’d and aah’d over it and clasped it around her neck. “You always have the perfect accessories. What do I owe you?”

“A grand total of don’t-even-think-about-it,” she huffed, doing her best to give a stern look at her friend and failing miserably. “What time is he picking you up?”

“In ten minutes,” Zoe replied absently, admiring her reflection in the ornate wrought iron mirror hanging on the wall. “It’s not too late to join us.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I’m sure Dylan would prefer to have you all to himself. Besides, I have plans.”

“Put off Indulgence Night until tomorrow and come,” Zoe insisted. “You’ve been sad since last Sunday. Did he call or something?”

There was no need to specify who ‘he’ was.

There was no other ‘he’ in Angelina’s life.

She didn’t want any other ‘he.’ There was only one ‘he’ she wanted, and ‘he’ was no longer hers.

Knowing Zoe wouldn’t let it drop, she fiddled with her earring display.

“I finally fessed up to his brother. Without a piercer using up jewelry he’s only been by twice, so it was easy to just let it slide.

” Taking a deep breath, she gave Zoe a tight smile.

“It was so awkward. The poor guy was giving me a big hug and telling me to stop being a stranger and inviting me to dinner and I had to tell him.”

“Ouch,” Zoe winced. “River didn’t tell his own brother? I thought they were close.”

“They are. Birch looked so crushed, it felt like a shrapnel breakup.” Passing Zoe a pair of earrings to complement the necklace, she shrugged. “I’m focusing on the fact that it was another step toward closure, and closure is good. For both of us.”

Zoe put the earrings in and admired her reflection. “Bullshit.”

Her mind slammed River’s voice into the forefront of her thoughts and she inhaled sharply. “It is not.”

“It is.” Zoe swiped her phone to life and tapped the screen a few times before she turned it to her. “Looks good, doesn’t he?”

She tried to look away from the photo Zoe pulled up.

It was a selfie River had posted earlier in the week.

He was smiling, tanned and shirtless, with the Los Angeles sunrise behind him bringing out the golds and coppers in his hair.

The definition of his muscles was as pure and perfect as always.

Most of his injuries had faded into scars so light she couldn’t see them on the small screen.

His bloodstone necklace remained around his neck, but his wrists were empty.

She didn’t want to think about it.

But try as she might, she couldn’t turn away from his eyes, from the emptiness in them. Not until Zoe did it for her and began reading the comments.

“You’re so gorgeous. You’re hot. I love you, River.

Oh, there’s quite a few of those in here.

Two marriage proposals, too,” Zoe said cheerfully, and Angelina knew she was goading her.

“Ooooh, some of his ex-wife’s supporters are still coming on strong, but the dozen comments about his lips help make up for it.

And the fifty on his abs. Tons about his biceps and forearms, and I can’t say I disagree with those.

Oh, wow, I’m not old enough to read some of these. ”

“Your point?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Would you like me to open an account and fawn over him, too?”

Her friend swiped through more and more comments. “What was the first thing you saw in that picture? And don’t say his abs, because I know when you lie.”

“I don’t lie,” she said, as all her practiced zen evaporated. “I noticed his eyes.”

Zoe hummed. “His—what did this woman say—his ‘smoking hot, fuck-me bedroom eyes’?”

“She’s not even close. That’s the look he gets when—” She trailed off with a frown.

“When what? When he’s horny? When he’s hungry? When he comes? You’ve had the same look since he left, so it better not be the last one.”

“When he’s lost,” she sighed, sitting on her stool and looking to the ceiling to rein in the string of tears pricking her eyelids. “You made your point. He’s as miserable as I am.” Blinking until she felt somewhat under control again, she glared at her friend. “Don’t you have a date?”

Zoe smiled and slipped her phone into her purse. “I do. Don’t you have a call to make?”