Page 31 of Devil’s Kiss (Sunset Cove #2)

Four Years Later

D EREK STOOD AT the front doors of Pearson’s Total Fitness and couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He’d done it. He’d really gone and done it.

Today was the opening of his very own business. The gym he’d been dreaming about owning since he’d finished college, and today it was finally happening.

The red ribbon had been cut, the doors had parted, and the distinct sound of weight machines clinging and clanging as they were used could be heard. He couldn’t believe that after all this time he’d finally achieved what he’d set out to do.

His staff were all smiles as they signed up client after client with their opening-month promotion, and Derek was relieved to be past the building portion of the project and into the running and enjoying aspect of his hard work.

He waved at Kelly, his front desk girl on the weekdays, and wove his way through the machines that lined the back mirror toward his office entrance. His office was an additional room he’d had built onto the back of the facility that faced the main strip of the beach.

After stepping out into the fresh air, he inhaled and tipped his face up into the sun. Yeah , this was what he’d been talking about. Living the dream, baby.

So he had debt he had to pay off, but at least it was his debt.

He didn’t mind working to pay back loans for a business he loved and would work his ass off to have succeed, and as he unlocked the door to the enclosed patio office, he smiled at his little corner of the world.

He loved it there. It might not be an empire, but it was his.

All of it. Well, his and the bank’s, for now.

He headed for the windows and opened them up to let in the sea breeze before he walked around the small couch to his desk. Sitting behind it, he booted up his laptop to go through his email and saw one from Daniel Finley.

Jesus , it’d been a long time since he’d heard from Danny boy—last Christmas, he thought—but the sight of the name in bold staring back at him made Derek smile.

He’d missed his friend. He clicked open the message and saw that it was fairly standard, nothing out of the ordinary.

It basically updated him on Finn’s life and mentioned that someday soon he’d get home and see everyone, and even though Derek knew Finn meant it, he had a feeling that it would be a cold day in hell before Daniel Finley ever set foot back in Sunset Cove.

Unless, of course, the one who sent him away groveled, or asked him home. Like that will ever happen.

Derek took a moment and sent off a generic letter of his own explaining that everything was fine, home was pretty much the same, and he was single and living the high life. Footloose and fancy free, Danny boy. Don’t be a stranger… yada yada yada.

It was sad writing that final line, though, because that was what they’d become—strangers.

Derek often wondered if things would’ve been different if he’d made more of an effort to be open with Finn instead of keeping his problems to himself.

Maybe one day he’d be able to find out. Or maybe he wouldn’t, and that would be one more relationship he could kiss the fuck goodbye.

No, he wasn’t going to do that today. He wasn’t going to think of the things he’d lost in his life. Well, namely the two things he’d lost. He was going to focus on the good, and the good was all that he’d accomplished.

Once he’d finished reading his personal mail, he opened the new website’s inbox and scanned down the emails asking about group classes and rates until he came across one from Alan Pearson—his brother.

The subject read: Derek? And seeing it there in his inbox made him break out in a sweat. It had been a long time since he’d had to deal with Alan. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen his brother.

What the hell could he possibly want? And that had to be it. He had to want something, because never did anyone in the Pearson household reach out just to say hi.

He stared at the name for a good ten minutes and seriously considered hitting delete, but at the last minute clicked it open.

Derek?

If this is Derek Pearson, call me. Dad’s sick.

Alan

Derek must have read that one line several times over before he hit delete and stared at the trash bin icon. Trash…how fitting. His hand shook as it hovered over the mouse and he clenched his fist to stop the trembling.

Fuck. He hadn’t thought about his father for years.

What did he care if he was sick? He didn’t.

If anything, he’d pretty much declared the bastard dead the last time he’d raised a hand to him.

But as Derek leaned back in his chair and thought about his brother’s words, he wondered how long he could ignore them before they’d start eating away at him.

How many nights would he lie in bed wondering what was wrong with the fucker and if he was dead or alive?

Too many, and that was the sad truth right there.

Damn it. Why today? he thought, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Why, when he was finally going places, was he pulled up short and reminded of exactly where it was he came from?

He got to his feet, snatched up his cell phone, and walked over to the window he’d just been admiring.

He hated that in less than ten words the one place that wasn’t tainted by that bastard had just been infected.

And that was exactly how it felt. The second he thought of him, or even let the asshole in through the cracks, all within reach was poisoned.

It was one of the main reasons he’d moved out of Jordan’s home all those years ago. To not taint what was good.

Jordan…

Derek glanced at his phone and saw his number in his contacts list. He shut his eyes and mind against the impulse to call a man he had no right calling, and instead dialed a number he’d all but erased from his head—his old home number.

He told himself he would wait two rings and then hang up. Unfortunately, the phone connected after one.

“Hello?”

Derek shut his eyes against the beautiful view, and then turned his back on it altogether. “Alan?”

There was a pause, as though his brother was trying to place his voice or who he might be, and then he asked, “Derek?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t about to offer up more than that. Alan was lucky he was calling him at all.

“So that new gym, the fancy one, is yours…”

Derek’s spine stiffened at the tone of Alan’s words. He had a sneaking suspicion that his brother wasn’t calling just to “inform” him of his father’s ailing health, and with the next words that came out of his brother’s mouth, Derek knew he was spot on.

“You must be doing pretty fucking good to be openin’ up some gym down on the beach. Guess leaving your trash behind helped you out, huh?”

Derek ground his molars together and rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “What do you want, Alan? You didn’t just email me to shoot the shit. You said he’s sick. So what’s wrong with him?”

Alan coughed, and Derek held the phone from his ear as he heard some shuffling and then the muffled sound of a television being turned down or off.

“I found him on the kitchen floor the other mornin’. And when they got him to the hospital they did a bunch of scans on him and it turns out he had pneumonia.”

Derek waited for the sadness to hit, for something to trigger inside him that would make him feel for the old man. But nothing came.

“They told me he’s got COPD. It’s pretty advanced. He needs treatment he can’t afford or he’s just gonna get worse.”

Derek’s first instinct was to say, So what? But he managed to bite that back and instead ask, “And what do you want me to do about it? I’m not giving him any fucking money.”

Alan coughed again, and Derek shook his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if his brother was in the same boat, or pretty damn close.

“Insurance, Derek. Medical. He doesn’t have any since he was laid off.”

Derek fumed. The audacity of the guy. There was no way he was asking him what he thought he was. Was he?

“If you add him to yours, then he can get therapy. Some regular help—” and before Alan could say another word, Derek ended the call, throwing his phone on the couch like it’d just transformed into a grenade.

He couldn’t fucking believe what had just come out of Alan’s mouth. His entire body was vibrating with rage as he stood trapped in his office, looking for a way out.

Christ. He wanted to hit something. Anything . He had the urge to destroy and get the adrenaline racing through him out of his system. He looked to the door of his gym and thought about going in and seeing if a bag was free, but that wasn’t what he really needed right then.

He paced back and forth, running an agitated hand through his hair, and wondered if he should skip out early and hit up a local bar.

Maybe knocking back a bottle of bourbon would help numb the anger thrumming through him.

But no, doing that made him just like them. He needed something else entirely.

He needed the one person who knew where he came from and everything he’d gone through.

He needed the one person who’d told him years ago that if he called, he would always answer.

And like a moth to a flame, Derek reached for the cell phone, pulled up his contacts, and dialed.

THAT EVENING, JORDAN was pouring himself a glass of Merlot as he got ready to relax in his tub after a long day at work.

He’d had a jam-packed schedule this semester, and tonight was the first night in months he’d had completely to himself.

Not only did he have nowhere to go, but he also had nothing to do.

Thank God.

He picked up his glass and walked down the hallway in his robe, determined to forget about everything in his head as soon as his tub was full, the lights were off, and his intergalactic bath bomb was working wonders on his body.