My Jaded Love, Forbidden Love

Chapter 5

Rafe POV

I walked into the bar and saw her—Mikayla Greene—and something inside me clicked, rewiring everything I had ever known. It had been years since I last saw her, but the second our eyes met, everything else vanished. The music, the crowd, even Tripp—it all blurred. All I could see was her. That hair—light auburn, kissed by the sun in places, like fire wrapped in silk. Her skin looked impossibly soft, like if I touched it, I might burn my fingers. But it was her eyes that got me. Bottle green, fierce and clear, pulling the air from my lungs. Thirty minutes with her, and it wasn’t nearly enough.

I had forgotten how stunning Mikayla was; she had grown into an extremely beautiful woman, and you could see how confident she was. When she spoke, my heart raced; I got lost in her voice, unable to keep track of what was being said, and when she looked into my eyes, my stomach danced with a swarm of butterflies. No one had ever made me feel such strong things. But when she left, I really felt her absence. It was like all the life was sucked from the room; she took all the goodness in the world with her and left me in the dark, but she was also my best friend's little sister. Chatter and laughter fill the bar; the sound of the pool balls breaking flitters through the noise, joining the chorus of merriment.

“So what happened to Mikayla?” I asked aiming for casual but failing miserably. Even saying her name kicked my pulse into overdrive—something it hadn’t done in a very long time.

Tripp stiffened. His jaw locked, and he shot me a look I knew too well. The Greene brother protective mode—triggered.

“I’m just asking, bro,” I said defensively, holding my hands in the air to show I meant no harm, but my words didn't carry the weight of what I meant. I did want to know; I wanted to know everything about her.

Tripp took a sip of his beer, letting it slam back down against the table. We had moved away from the booth after Mikayla and Ray left; now we were sitting at one of the small tables closer to the bar. I could hear glasses clinking together as John served his patrons, and the smell of the bitter, malty beer swirling with a sweet, fruity smell filled my nostrils, but I couldn't get her scent out of my mind, it was sweet and addictive and I could still taste it at the back of my throat.

"That's what concerns me." He sneered.

"Tripp, stop being a dìck."

His shoulders relaxed, but his face tightened. Yep, Tripp was very protective of his sister. He let out a deep sigh and grabbed his beer, lifting it to his lips. The sound of the bubbles rushing to the top mixed with the low hum of the lights above us.

“All I know is her scumbag boyfriend cheated on her, then dumped her, so she came back home. After everything that happened last year, though, I’m glad she’s home so I can keep an eye on her.”

I could feel a heat rushing through my body hearing what her scumbag boyfriend had done; the urge to hurt him for hurting her was overwhelming, which was strange to me. I shouldn’t care about Tripp’s little sister being cheated on and dumped, but I did. I couldn’t help feeling a little thankful to the douchebag either; if he hadn’t cheated, then Mikayla might never have come home.

“What happened last year?” I asked as I took a sip of my beer, which was cold and refreshing. I had heard rumors about Mikayla; it’s a small town, and everyone talks, but I never actually knew what had happened, and I didn’t want to ask—well, until now, that was.

“Her best friend is married to that actor, Oliver Wilson. His assistant went mad and tried to kill her and Mikayla; he almost killed Oliver; it messed her up pretty bad.”

“Shít.”

“Yeah, that’s not the worst part. His brother is in some gang, and he’s sworn vengeance on everyone involved, so she’s a little on edge. Then the whole Steven thing.” My hands twitched, clenching tightly. I wouldn't let anyone hurt Mikayla, ever.

“So it’s true?”

I had heard the rumors about Steven as well. Not that I was surprised Steven was a díck, with a quick temper; he never deserved Mikayla.

Tripp just nodded his head, taking another sip of his beer.

“Rafe, she’s my baby sister.” His words felt like a warning.

I glanced across at him, shocked at his words; his eyes narrowed as he looked at me.

“I know.”

“So you’re gonna back off?” Tripp asked, his voice sharp—less question, more warning.

“I’m just curious, Tripp. You never really speak about her.”

His brow furrowed, forming a deep V in the center of his forehead.

“Things are just starting to get back on track with her. She needs to heal. I saw the way you were looking at her, Rafe; please, not her.”

I gave him a small pat on his back and one of my reassuring smiles, but something inside of me was scrèaming no, and a sharp pain jabbed into my heart. Tripp just glared at me, his lips pinched tight. He was my best friend, and I had known him my whole life. I couldn't act on this feeling his sister stirred within me, even if the thought made my heart clench. What the fùck was wrong with me?

I hesitated, jaw tight, my pulse thudding in my ears.

“I’m not interested in your sister,” I said finally, the words like sandpaper in my throat—coarse and wrong.

An outright lie. A lie that sliced through something raw inside of me.

Tripp mumbled something under his breath, but I didn’t quite catch what it was, although I could imagine it was colorful.

I had to shut this down. If I didn’t, it would shift something I couldn’t undo—something between me and Tripp that we might not come back from. But damn, it was hard. Because the way Mikayla looked at me, the way she made my chest tighten and everything else fade? It felt real. It felt right. But Tripp was like a brother to me. We’d gone through everything together—first loves, first betrayals, busted lips, and heartbreaks. I was there the night Michelle told him he was going to be a dad, and I was there when the truth ripped that away. And now, with her due date creeping up, he was barely holding on. I couldn’t be the one to cut the last thread holding him together.

Even if part of me already wanted to.

It felt like an internal battle was raging in my heart. In the 30 minutes I had spent with her, she had bewitched me in a way no one else ever had, and the thought of not exploring these feelings, of pushing them aside physically, made my heart ache, but I would do it, for Tripp.

“Your f**k buddy is here.” Tripp pointed behind me with his head, making me turn to see Alexia playing pool. She stood up straight, pushing her breast out and giving me one of her killer smiles before slowly bending over the pool table to take the shot, I could see right down her top and her large round breast inside a black sèxy bra, her long dark hair fell in front of her so she flicked her head sending it cascading over her back. Usually, that would have driven me wild, but she seemed mediocre now in comparison to Mikayla. Oh well, time to start pushing the red-haired temptress out of my head. I gave Tripp a sturdy pat on the back as I stood up.

“I will pick you up in the morning.” I quickly said before I made my way over to the beautiful woman, who was giving me her doe eyes.

“You wanna get out of here?” I asked, running my hand down her side. Her body was all curves and heat, but I barely felt it. She placed the cue down on the side of the table and turned around so she was flush against me. She bit down on her lip, her blue eyes alight with mischief.

“Yes.” She answered.

Alexia placed her hand against my chest and leaned up, placing her lips against mine. Her tongue swept across mine, insistent and eager. I could taste the white wine spritzer she had been drinking all night against my tongue.

“Your place or mine?” She whispered. Her voice is soft like honey. Irritation prickled across my skin, though. Alexia knew I never took girls back to my place; I didn’t need girls showing up at all hours bringing their drama with them. My house was my sanctuary, and I wasn’t having anyone fùcking it up for me.

“Your place,” I answered. Alexia tugged me toward the back door. The night air bit at my skin, but the buzz from the beer dulled it. Her lips met mine once again, her hand gripping the back of my neck, but it felt off—like I was kissing someone through a pane of glass. Her tongue swept across mine, too eager, too bitter, like cheap wine clinging to my teeth.

She wasn’t Mikayla. She never would be.

My stomach rolled. I pulled away and grabbed her hand, leading her away from the bar and toward her house, which was a 15-minute walk from the bar. I could feel her shivering; her teeth clattered together, so I wrapped my arm around her shoulders as we strolled down the street. She rambled about her day, but her voice faded into the background. All I could think about was Mikayla—her flushed cheeks, that fire in her eyes. Alexia’s words blurred into static.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Mikayla. How one look had rewired something deep inside of me, and what scared me the most was knowing I might never be able to put it back.