When Dawn Breaks Read online

  “Says the girl who locks up tighter than Fort Knox anytime I broach anything real.”

  “This isn’t about me,” I interject.

  “See what I mean,” he laughs, saying I just made his point for him.

  “Why did you and Courtney break up?” I push forward, ignoring his comment.

  “I tell you what. I will answer one of your questions for every question of mine you answer. Otherwise, we will sit here and discuss baseball stats all night.”

  “Baseball.” I stick out my tongue in disgust.

  “Did you see how well Roderick is batting tonight?” He points to the television behind the bar. “They’re projecting that he’s going to break some serious records this season.”

  “Okay, okay,” I laugh, cutting him off. “But I get to ask first.”

  “Of course.” He gestures for me to continue.

  “Why did you and Courtney break up?” I ask again.

  “You realize you can ask me anything, and you’re choosing to ask me why I broke up with someone I dated over five years ago, right?”

  “It’s something I’ve always been curious about.” I admit, taking a long drink of my beer before setting my glass back on the high-top table we’re currently occupying.

  “Why?” He seems genuinely curious.

  “Because it’s something she never really talked a lot about. One minute you’re all she talks about, the next it’s over. Just seems weird. Add on the fact that Courtney, the girl who never shuts up, suddenly had nothing to say on the matter. So… I guess I’m just curious.”

  He studies me for a long moment before finally deciding to just answer me already.

  “I had feelings for someone else, and it didn’t seem fair to string her along when my heart wasn’t in it.”

  “Shut up!” I smack the table in front of me like this is the juiciest bit of news I’ve ever heard. “Who was it? Was it someone I know? Did Courtney know?”

  He holds his hand up and laughs, “Hold on there, killer. That’s a hell of a lot more than one question. My turn.”

  “But you didn’t tell me anything,” I whine.

  “Oh, but I did. I told you the answer to the question you asked. Now, my turn.” He makes sure I’m not going to object before continuing. “Are you dating anyone?”

  “What?” I sputter on the drink of beer I was attempting to take.

  Why would he ask me that? It’s the first thing that pops into my head, followed by a flutter in my stomach that tells me I’m a little more excited about this than I should be.

  “I think it’s a pretty straight forward question.” He smirks, eyeing me over his glass as he takes a slow drink.

  “No,” I finally answer after a long moment.

  “No? That’s it?” He grins, setting his now empty glass on the table in front of him.

  “You asked, I answered. You made the rules,” I remind him before he can say more. “My turn,” I practically sing. “Who did you have feelings for?” I continue the list of questions I have regarding his and Courtney’s breakup.

  “You wouldn’t know her.” He shrugs, not giving me more.

  “That’s not an answer,” I challenge.

  “Let’s just say it was someone I wasn’t allowed to have feelings for.” The look he gives me has my stomach bottoming out and a rush of heat flooding my cheeks. I know he’s not talking about me—of course he isn’t—but the thought makes my insides warm in a way that it absolutely shouldn’t.

  “Still not an answer,” I croak out, swallowing down the tight knot that forms in my throat.

  “I think it’s best to leave that part unsaid.” He suddenly falls serious. “It’s been a long time, old news; let’s move on to more current events.”

  As much as I want to push the matter further, I know he’s right. There’s so much about my past that I’m not willing to discuss with him, let alone anyone else. I can’t blame him for not wanting to dig up things he buried long ago.

  If anyone understands wanting to leave the past in the past it’s me.

  “Okay, fine,” I finally agree. “Tell me why you left Boston.”

  “Not your turn.” He grins, slow and calculated.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Nope, you asked, I answered—even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. My turn.” He nods to the waitress who replaces his empty glass with a new one.

  “Another for you, dear?” the older woman asks, turning her attention on me.

  “Yes,” Ant answers for me. I give him a questioning glare to which he returns with a simple smile and a thank you to the waitress who hurries off without another word.

  “Trying to get me drunk, Mr. Treadway?” I ask playfully.

  “I think I’ve already accomplished that.” He smirks.

  “Hmmm.” I think on that. “I don’t think you’re quite there yet.”

  “Well, I guess I need to start trying harder. I mean, what kind of date would I be if I didn’t at least get you drunk before trying to make a move on you,” he says, full of humor, but I swear something about his words has me gripping the table in an effort to hold in the rush of want that seeps in from every pore and slowly spreads through every inch of my body.

  I shouldn’t want him. I know that. He’s Courtney’s ex-boyfriend. Courtney, one of the two best friends I’ve had since second grade; the girl who has been there for me in more ways than I could ever fully understand. It’s always been the three of us: Bree, Courtney, and Tess, and we’ve never, nor will we ever, undermine the other’s trust.

  He’s completely and totally off limits, no matter how long ago they dated. Boyfriends and ex-boyfriends are an unspoken rule, a line you do not cross. And yet that’s all I’ve been able to think about since the first beer hit my empty stomach. How good looking he is. How good he smells. How badly I want to know if he tastes just as good.

  I can’t help myself. And yet I hate myself for even considering it. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. I justify the feelings by telling myself that Courtney wouldn’t care, that she’s way over Ant and this wouldn’t even be a blip on her radar. I just wish I wasn’t doing such a good job at lying to myself. Maybe then this wouldn’t be so easy.

  “You don’t have to get me drunk to make a move on me,” I find myself saying without really meaning to.

  He doesn’t seem all that surprised by my statement. Then again, why should he be? He knows me. He knows the girl I used to be, and no matter how much I try to lie to myself and pretend I’m no longer that girl, deep down I am. While a lot has changed, this part of me hasn’t. The part of me that craves physical touch, that craves being wanted. It’s something that controls me—drives me—and yet it’s something I haven’t experienced in a very long time.

  Maybe it’s not me. Maybe I’m not the same girl. Maybe it’s Anthony. Maybe it’s seeing him again, being thrown into my past, having to face my secret forbidden crush all these years later; knowing that we’re both adults and unattached to anyone. Nothing is stopping this from happening. Nothing. Maybe that’s the problem.

  “You’re quite the tease, Ms. Kingsley.” He shakes his head, not quite sure how to respond.

  His reaction is like a bucket of cold water being poured over my head and honestly, I’m thankful for the wake up. Of course he was only kidding. This is how Ant is. He jokes and flirts. It’s just his thing. I was foolish to think he meant something by it. I’m not even sure if I really wanted him to. It’s like my mind and body are on two completely different pages. Hell, I think they always have been.

  “Is it my turn again?” I blurt, needing to move on from the heaviness that seems to have settled over us.

  “Still mine.” He grins like he knows what I’m thinking, and that thought is a little more than unsettling.

  The waitress returns with my fourth beer, and from there the conversation lightens significantly. We talk about school, football, and how much Ant loved playing college ball. He was always so talented. Between him and Seb
astian, our high school team was nearly unstoppable. He went on to play for Boston College while Sebastian played for LSU. Neither pursued it professionally though both probably could have.

  I tell him about night school and how I just completed my final exams last week for my degree in social work and should be receiving my diploma in the mail sometime this month. It’s been a long, hard climb and one I know I never would’ve been able to do without the support of my grandparents and the drive to be more for my son.

  I’ve been waitressing on the weekends for nearly three years now and working as an aide during the week at the local pre-school down the road from my apartment. It’s nothing glamorous, but it’s gotten me through school and given me the ability to provide a home for me and Jackson; though I’m sure my grandparents would’ve been fine letting me live with them forever. I tell Anthony all of this, along with how excited I am to hopefully, one day soon, be able to use my degree and just have one full-time job where I can work a more consistent schedule.

  Before long, the evening has turned to night, and after probably a few too many beers, we finally decide it’s time to head to my apartment. Thankfully it’s just a two-block walk from here, precisely why I picked this location.

  When we step out onto the street, the crisp air clears my clouded mind a bit. Not enough to make me walk any straighter or laugh any less, but enough that I feel like I have at least a small grasp on my self-control. Or, at least, I think I do until I stumble over a dip in the sidewalk and find myself face planting right into Anthony’s hard chest just as he turns toward me.

  I’m still laughing when I pull back, too consumed by the buzz of the alcohol to feel even remotely embarrassed, but my laughter quickly dies on my lips when my eyes meet Anthony’s. The air quickly shifts around us, and I can physically feel the weight pressing down on me as his eyes dart to my lips and stay there for what feels like minutes.

  My tongue nervously jets out, running across my bottom lip, and Ant watches me do it like it’s the most intoxicating thing he’s ever seen. I’m a swarm of emotions. Want. Need. Fear. Excitement. Dread. It all blends together leaving me feeling untethered to the ground below my feet.

  “Ant,” I say, pressing my hands to his chest as I reclaim my footing.

  As if that breaks the trance, he instantly straightens and clears his throat. “Walk much?” he quips, reaching out to sweep a strand of hair from my face. His fingers linger on the tips for a long moment before he finally drops it over my shoulder. “I liked the red,” he says, referring to the red bob I always sported in high school. “But this is much more you.” He takes in the long, dark strands that fall around my face before finally meeting my gaze again.

  “I like the clean shaved pretty boy look, but this is much more you.” I smile, reaching up to scratch across his scruffy jaw before running my hand through his messy locks.

  “What do you say we get you home?” He smiles, tucking my hand in his as he pulls me up alongside him.

  “Well, maybe we should turn around then,” I say, stopping to really take in my surroundings. “Because I’m fairly certain we’re going the wrong way.” I glance backward before finally adding, “Yep, definitely going the wrong way.”

  “Dear god, woman, how drunk are you?” Ant teases, knocking his hip against mine as he swivels us in the other direction, not once letting go of my hand. I try to ignore the rush of butterflies that swarm my stomach when he links our fingers together, but their presence is undeniable.

  I can’t explain it, how such an innocent touch can drive me to feel the things I’m currently feeling. I’ve had men buried deep inside me and never felt half of what holding Ant’s hand makes me feel. Maybe it’s the forbidden, the fact that I know I can’t act on it. Or maybe it’s the gentleness of the gesture, a sweetness I’m not used to experiencing in this type of situation.

  If Ant were any other man, I’d have probably already let him take me against the bathroom stall inside the bar. I’m not proud of that fact, but it’s true. Not that I do things like that often—I rarely even go out—but when I do find myself out with a member of the opposite sex, I always know exactly where the night will end.

  I take it for what it is. I’m not willing to offer them something that I can’t give, so I give them what I can and take what I need from them in return. Sure, I’ve had men who have wanted more, but since Jackson was born no one has felt right. I guess because it’s not about just me anymore.

  But Ant… In some weird way, I could totally see the dynamic. I shake off the thought before it has time to take root. I know it has everything to do with the fact that this man is tied to my past, to a girl I thought I had left in Connecticut that I’m now learning is still very much a part of me. But even knowing that, it’s still hard for me to compartmentalize those feelings.

  I glance up at the side of Ant’s face, still taken aback by just how good looking he is. He catches me staring out of the corner of his eye and a slow smile pulls up the side of his mouth.

  “You’re checking me out again, Bree,” he says cockily.

  “I am not, nor have I at any point been checking you out.” I object, looking at him like he has five heads.

  “Uh, huh.” He gives me a knowing smirk. “This was fun,” he says, eyes focused forward.

  “It was,” I agree, letting go of the thoughts that have plagued me all night, forcing myself to focus on how good it feels to kind of feel like me again. I just wish I knew if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “Maybe Tess and Sebastian working out their bullshit isn’t such a bad thing for me after all,” he adds after a long moment.

  “And why’s that?” I ask, once again peering up at the side of his face.

  “You’re a hell of a lot prettier to look at than he is.”

  “Planning on staying a while, are we?”

  “That depends, are you offering?” He finally looks down, meeting my gaze for a long moment before flipping forward again.

  “I could be persuaded to help a friend out.” I shrug.

  “Persuaded how?” He slows to a stop just feet from the front of my apartment building.

  “Well, I guess that depends.” I step into him, slowly running my fingers down his chest, getting the exact reaction from him I want before quickly adding, “How good are your baking skills?” I purr seductively.

  This pulls a full, deep laugh from his chest, the sound echoing all around us.

  “What?” I step back, fishing my keys out of my purse. “You can get me to agree to a lot with baked goods. Just saying.” I cock one shoulder before turning and disappearing into my building, leaving Anthony outside on the sidewalk, his laughter chasing after me long after the door snaps closed.

  Six years earlier

  “Bree! Get your ass over here, bitch!” I hear Courtney scream at me from across the small restaurant the second I step through the front door.

  I look over to see a small group of our friends already gathered at our normal table at Perchatellies, where we meet every Friday after there’s a home football game. I smile, trying to swallow down the heavy knot in my throat as I cross the small resturant toward them.

  “Where’s that boyfirend of yours?” Ant asks me the moment I slide into the large booth next to him.

  I shrug, trying to appear completely unaffected even though I feel like I’m seconds away from spewing the contents of my stomach all over the table in front of me.

  “Not sure, I haven’t talked to him yet. He’s probably still at work.”

  “Work.” Ant snorts. “Does he ever actually work?” he jokes.

  “Doubtful,” I agree, shaking my head on a forced laugh.

  “Where the hell were you tonight?” Courtney cuts in, leaning into Ant as she talks over him. “I thought you were coming to the game. You realize this is the second one in a row you’ve missed.”

  “Sorry, I had some stuff going on at home,” I say, using an excuse I know Courtney will understand.

 
Her expression instantly falls and she shoves her long brown hair over her shoulders and leans further over Ant.

  “Everything okay?” she whispers, her eyes studying my face.

  I know how lucky I am to have a friend like Courtney, but telling her the truth right now is the absolute last thing I want to do. So I simply nod and mouth “Mom,” knowing she’ll just assume that my mom was drinking again and I had to take care of the aftermath.

  I hate lying to her. I hate using my alcholic mother as an excuse for anything because I know how protective Courtney and Tess get about the whole thing. But telling her the truth—uttering the words I still don’t fully comprehend myself—is just too much right now.

  I can feel Ant’s eyes on the side of my face, and I hate that he’s witnessing our little exchange. I don’t typically air my dirty laundry out there for the world. Something about having him watch me makes me feel exposed—vunerable—and I hate it. I hate feeling like someone other than Tess or Courtney can see the scars I try so hard to keep hidden.

  And while yes, Ant and I have been friends for quite some time, we don’t have that kind of friendship. The kind where I tell him about my fucked up home life or the shit I’ve had to battle my way through.

  Courtney takes my answer without a moments hesitation, nodding only once before changing the subject to a much less serious note.

  I let out a silent breath, thankful that she always seems to know just what I need.

  “So Ant had two touchdown catches tonight.” She smiles up at her boyfriend and an instant bout of jealousy runs through me.

  I’m happy for my friend, of course I am, but I’d be lying if I said that seeing my two best friends so in love doesn’t make me once again feel like the odd person out. It also doesn’t help that I have harbored a massive crush on the guy she’s currently head over heels for. Of course, I would never, ever, tell her that.

  I’ve convinced myself it’s nothing because Ant and I are friends. I’ve learned to look past the physcial attraction I have to him. And sure, he flirts with me just like he does everyone else, but I know him well enough not to take it seriously. He’s clearly just as into Courtney as she’s into him.