Page 43 of Desired By you (Always & Forever #3)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Brad

It’s been weeks since Gabriella walked out of my apartment, taking a piece of me with her.

The urge to fall back into my old coping habits becomes stronger every day.

I spend my nights tossing and turning, battling with myself, but I know keeping her at a distance, making my family believe she means nothing to me is the only way to keep her safe.

It’s maddening when, in reality, she is everything.

I wake up groggy, skipping workouts, and I bring work home when I can instead of working from the club.

With Harry still in London and Jack on his honeymoon, it’s been easy enough to fly under the radar, but tonight we have a busy night at the club, and I have to be there.

The club is packed, the music so loud it vibrates beneath my feet.

The smell of high end liquor never normally bothers me, but tonight it pulls old cravings to the surface, making my hands twitch and my body feel on edge.

There are only two things that could calm these feelings: giving in and drinking past my usual one, or her, and I can’t have either.

I spotted Ali in here earlier with Cassidy, and that just sent warning signals.

I’ve had a quiet eye on her all evening, something is off.

Harry said Ali left without saying bye and has been avoiding his calls.

I’ve dodged the girls’ apartment because until I have a grip on my emotions, I can’t set eyes on Gabriella.

I feel like a shitty friend to Harry because I haven’t tried to speak to Ali for him so I make it my mission to speak to her tonight, calmly, and try and get to the bottom of what’s going on.

But when I see the face of a man I sure as fuck know isn’t Harry, all over Ali, I’m rounding the bar and ripping the fucker off her.

“Ali,” I call. She turns and her face falls. “I need to speak to you.”

“I’m a bit busy right now,” she says, holding a hand in the air that’s linked with the drunk bastard.

“That's exactly what we need to talk about,” I yell, directing my focus to the guy. “I’m gonna need you to fuck off,” I say through gritted teeth.

The guy scoffs, “Excuse me, she’s mine tonight.”

“I don’t think so.” I take Ali by the hand and drag her toward my office, leaving the drunk stranger standing alone, utterly dumbfounded.

“Get off me,” she shouts, trying to free herself from my grip. I open the office door and pull her in, slamming it behind me.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I bark, my voice bouncing off the walls.

“Excuse me. What the hell was that?” she bites back, stepping into my personal space.

“I wasn’t about to let that guy fuck you in a back alley.”

She grins, her eyes heavy and drunk. “Oh really, did you want the job instead?” she slurs, moving closer, pressing herself against my chest. My body stiffens. What is she doing? This isn’t her.

“What the fuck?” I say, eyes widening.

“Come on, let’s have some fun. God knows, you need it. You are wound so fucking tight most of the time.” She reaches for the button on my pants, and I grab her wrists, stopping her.

“Ali, I am not going to fuck you, nor will I ever, and I’m not going to let you go with anyone else either. Not on my watch.” My heart’s hammering. How could she do this to Harry?

“Since when did you become my keeper and have a right to tell me what to do?” she spits.

“Since you started fucking around with my friend, that’s when. What the hell, Ali?” I growl, letting go of her wrists, and she stumbles back on her heels.

“Well, for your information, we’re done. Over. No more fucking around, so I can fuck around with whoever I want.”

“Does he know that?” I question.

“Who?” she says, wrinkling my nose.

“Harry. Does Harry know you’re done? Because from what I heard, you have been avoiding him.”

She folds her arms across her chest and sneers, not answering me.

“Yeah, I didn't think so. What the hell is going on with you? You've been in here most nights with Cassidy and that other girl. They’re bad news, Ali. Why the hell are you hanging out with the—”

“Hey, don't you judge them? You have no idea who they are or what they've been through, so don't you dare comment on how they behave or what they do. You have no idea.” And there it is. She’s going through something, and she doesn’t know how to manage it.

I recognize it, the destructive behavior, the empty look in the eyes.

“Are you talking about them or yourself there?”

“I’d like to leave, please.”

“Not with him you aren't.” My tone is stern.

“I’m going back to my friends, if you must know. I also need to pee. Do you wish to escort me there too?” Her words are laced with sarcasm.

“You need to talk to him. He doesn't deserve your silence, Ali,” I say, trying to soften my tone.

“Don't lecture me about what he deserves. Most of us don't deserve the hand we are dealt.” Her comment hits me square in the chest, because, she’s right. We aren’t.

She brushes past me, but I catch her arm. “If you need to talk, I’m here. I’m your friend Ali, not your enemy.”

She shrugs me off, reaches for the door, and slips out of my office.

I fall back into my chair, rubbing my hand over my stubble in frustration.

What the fuck was that? Sure, Ali is wild but she’d never act like that with me.

There was something haunting about her eyes.

I’ve seen that look before, staring back at me in my own reflection, I know what it’s like to carry secrets, regrets and fight daily to not allow them to swallow you whole.

Worried for her safety, I leave my office and go in search of Ali.

“Kate,” I yell, leaning over the bar. She walks over holding a bottle of vodka in each hand.

“What’s up?”

“Have you seen Ali?”

She shakes her head, and I flatten my mouth in annoyance.

“Sorry, it’s been packed in here. I haven’t seen her for a while. Maybe she left?”

I give her a nod of agreement, and she walks back to her station.

I ball my hands into fists and exhale in annoyance.

Where the fuck is she? I head up to the VIP floor to check up there, and when I reach the top of the staircase and see Patrick with his tongue down some girl’s throat, who isn’t Gabriella’s, which, truth be told, I am grateful for, I see red.

I don’t think; I don’t let myself count to ten and think of a logical way to handle this.

No, I go into bulldozer Brad mode and stride over to his table and tower over them.

They part and he looks up at me, his expression dropping when he sees it’s me.

He whispers in the girl’s ear, and she giggles, stands, and walks towards the bar. The prick turns to face me, leaning back in his booth with a smug smile creeping across his face.

“Bradley, good to see you again.”

I’ve never wanted to punch someone more than him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I grit out, my anger building.

“Trying to get laid, and I must say you’re cramping my style.”

I slam my palms down on the table. “You’re meant to be with Gabriella, you prick.” The words taste like poison on my tongue, and a pain rips through me.

He’s with Gabriella, and he’s treating her like this.

He rises to his feet and steps out, away from the table. “My relationship with Gabriella is none of your damn business.”

“It is when you are in my club disrespecting her. She doesn’t deserve that.”

He squares up to me. “Gabriella is not your concern. Let me worry about what she does and doesn’t deserve.” His tone makes me uneasy.

I look him up and down, my lip turning up in disgust. “I don’t understand what she sees in you, why she picked you.”

His eyes flash with recognition, and he laughs. “You want her, don’t you?” I say nothing, I just try and stare the prick down. “She picked me because she chose the better man. A man whose arm she can be on and be proud.

I step in closer, almost nose to nose, my anger about to reach its peak. “If you want to keep that arm, I suggest you leave my fucking club right now.”

He lets out a huff, turns on his heel, and signals for the woman to follow him, which she does. I can hear my heart beating in my ears and the shirt I’m wearing feels as if it’s constricting my breathing.

Fuck!

I make my way through the staff entrance behind the bar.

The volume at which the blood is pumping round my body has my vision blurring, and I sit at the top of the staircase that leads to our stockroom.

The faint thumping of the music is the only thing, along with my heavy breathing, that can be heard in the vacant stairwell.

I slam my fist against the wall, wincing in pain, but in a twisted way, I welcome the throbbing pain.

The shrill ring of my phone startles me, and with a slight tremor to my hand, I pull it out of my pocket and sigh in relief when I see Ali’s number. I swipe and bring it to my ear, expecting her to apologize and ask for a ride home, but when her horrified voice screams my blood runs cold.

“Ali are you—” There's panic in my voice.

“Help, help, please. It's Cassidy. She’s, she’s dying.”

“What the fuck? Where are you?” I’m up on my feet and running back inside.

“The VIP booth at the back. Hurry,” she pleads, sobbing hysterically.

I race back to the VIP area where I see Ali in a booth, a limp body laid across .

She sags in relief when she sees me. I look down at Cassidy. She’s pale, unmoving. I press to fingers to her pulse point and freeze when I don’t feel one.

“I don’t think she’s breathing. Please help her,” Ali begs, panic laced in her voice.

I lift Cassidy, cradling her in my arms, her body like a rag doll as I run to the back exit, and through the fire doors into the back alley where I lay her on the ground. I press my ear to her chest, but I hear nothing. “Call 911,” I bark, feeling Ali behind me.

I check Cassidy’s airways are clear and cover my mouth with hers, not thinking about contamination or going to get the first aid kit, or to wait for paramedics.

No, I’ve done CPR before, and lost someone because I waited too long to begin, and I refuse to lose someone else.

I blow into her mouth, her chest rising and then I start compressions

Her lifeless body as it lies on the damp concrete of a New York alley as I try to revive her.

The smell of urine and trash fills the air and bile rises into my nose, the urge to vomit is strong.

With every pump, visions of Cassidy and then Scotty flit between each other.

I shake my head to remind myself she isn’t Scotty.

It’s not Scotty beneath my hands, my best friend, bleeding out, the life slowly draining from his body.

I give another rescue breath and yell, “Ali, call 911, now.”

I check her pulse again and nothing. I will her to breathe as I continue CPR. “Come on, come on, sweetheart. You’re not dying on me today,” I pant.

Ali sinks to the floor beside me. “Cassidy, wake up… breathe,” she wails, taking her limp hand into hers.

I don't know how much time passes, but suddenly, Cassidy takes in a sharp breath, and I sag in relief. I collapse against the wall, bracing my head in my hands, my breathing ragged as Cassidy coughs and groans.

“Help’s coming, Cass. You're gonna be okay,” Ali soothes. Blue flashing lights appear down the alley, and suddenly realization hits me. I saved her life, but still, that guilt I can never let go creeps its way back in. I may have saved Cassidy but I couldn’t save one of my best friends.

“I need to go with her,” Ali says.

“No, no, you’re not. I need to take you home.”

“But—”

“Don’t fight me. Ali,” I say sternly.

“Okay.” She nods. “But I need to call Brooke.”

“I’m sorry,” Ali whispers.

“What did you take?” I ask, staring straight ahead, taking a drag of my cigarette.

“N-Nothing,” she stammers.

“Don’t lie to me,” I hiss, tossing the cigarette. I turn to face her and give her a challenging stare.

“I didn’t take anything.” - I shake my head, hurt and disappointed that she would lie to me. But I know anger isn’t the way here, not with her. She’s clearly in pain, and me coming down on her won’t help.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t take anything,” I say, my tone a little softer this time. She reluctantly lifts her head, but she wilts under my glare. A mixture of anger and sympathy swirls in my stomach when I look at her.

“Look at you. Your pupils are dilated. I know what drugs do to a person, trust me. So don’t bullshit me, Ali.” My tone is thick with emotion. I just want to help her.

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t say anything, because what could she say, other than the truth, and I sense she’s not ready to tell me. But I know. She can’t deny it.

Tears fall down her cheeks, and she wipes them away, black smudges under her dilated eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve ruined everything.

It’s all my fault,” she sobs, her body heaving.

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my chest as I try my best to soothe her, because no matter what, we’re close and someone I’m sure is the love of my friend’s life.

“I need him, Brad. I need him so fucking much. He’s the only one who made it better, but I’ll ruin him, like everything else I touch. I need to stay away from him, but it’s killing me.”

Her words hit me like a dagger to the heart, because I’m doing the same thing. I’m staying away from Gabriella for the same reason, because I believe I’ll ruin her life if she has me in it. And just like Ali needs Harry, I need Gabriella, and it’s so painful to admit.