Breaking Down (The Breaking Series Book 4) Read online

  And, at ten something at night, found all the lights off. Gabi was out again.

  I let out a long breath and marched to the kitchen, where I fixed myself a sandwich and ate it in two bites. Tired of my day and now of my night too, I pulled out a beer from the fridge. I deserved it.

  I took two gulps in peace. Then, my thoughts assaulted me again.

  Where the hell could Gabi be? She hadn’t spent the previous night at home either. Was she still out? Had she come home and was out again? Ugh, why did it matter? She didn’t owe me any explanation.

  Still, I couldn’t shake this ridiculous feeling growing inside my chest. I wouldn’t name it because naming it would only give it power.

  Tired but too wired to go to bed, I put on Walking Dead and watched two episodes before I started closing my eyes.

  I should probably go to bed since I had to get up early to go to work tomorrow morning, but I needed a shower first.

  After throwing away the untouched second half of my beer and shoving all the bills and letters addressed to me inside one of the drawers in my bedroom, I hopped in the shower. For the five minutes, I stood and washed under the warm water, I did my best to let my mind free and empty and, to my surprise, I was able to relax.

  But the moment I stepped out of my bathroom into my bedroom and saw the open door to the hallway—and the darkness coming from there—I was reminded that Gabi was nowhere to be found and tension flowed into my muscles again.

  I put on some shorts and grabbed my phone from my nightstand. Nothing. Not even a text. Curious, I opened my Facebook app, something I hadn't done in a long time. As I suspected, she had sent me a friend request. I accepted it and started browsing through her feed. Her last update was from last evening and it was linked to her Instagram. In the update, she had posted a pic of her posing beside a beautiful white horse. Half of her caption was written in English and the other half in Portuguese, and it read “Meet Branca, my new best friend.” The first comment underneath her post caught my attention. It was from a girl called Priscila. I thought Gabi had mentioned her before. The comment was in Portuguese, but after hitting the translation button, I read it: “I’ve been already replaced?” Gabi had hit the laughing button on Priscila’s comment.

  I was about to close the damn app when a new post popped up. It was a post from Hannah and Gabi was tagged in it. A picture of them—Gabi, Bia, Hannah, and Hilary—squeezed together and smiling at the selfie. The caption read “Girls night out” followed by several hearts of different colors.

  Groaning, I threw my phone on the bed and stormed into the kitchen. I could use another beer.

  I twisted the cap, leaned my ass on the counter beside the fridge, and drank a big gulp. The cold liquid refreshed some of my tension. I hadn’t gotten really drunk in years, but right at this moment, it seemed like a good way to erase all the problems from my mind and put myself to sleep.

  I took another long gulp, intent in finishing this bottle in seconds, but the sound of jiggling keys froze me. I lowered my beer and stared at the door as the lock clicked and the knob twisted.

  The door opened and Gabi walked in.

  Well, wobbled in was more like it.

  When turning to close the door, she almost tripped on her feet and kissed the wall. Instead, she was able to shoot out a hand and splay it on the door, steadying herself. Wasn’t she twenty years old? Did she have a fake ID, or did she charm someone to buy booze for her?

  Gabi closed and locked the door, then wobbled across the living room. She was halfway through when she finally lifted her face and saw me. Her eyes widened and her mouth made a little “oh” but, whatever that was, she recovered quickly. A little pink stained her cheeks as she smiled and resumed walking to the kitchen.

  Even drunk, she was too pretty for her own good. She was wearing skinny jeans and black cowboy boots and a black blouse that hung low on her shoulders, not revealing too much, but enough to make one wonder about her creamy skin. Her long, dark hair fell in waves down her back and she even had a little makeup on. Yeah, no denying. She was beautiful. And I bet the men at whatever place she had been at had noticed that too.

  “Hi, Tyler,” she said. Her voice was steadier than I thought it would be. Perhaps she wasn’t that drunk.

  “Hey,” I snapped back. Not sure why I felt on the defensive, but I didn’t like this situation.

  She reached a hand to the high counter and with her other, she took off her boots. “I just had a great night with my friends.”

  I know, I wanted to say. Instead, I muttered, “It seems like it.”

  She kicked her boots aside and lifted her chin, her eyes meeting mine again. “Bia is still upset with me, of course. I apologized five thousand times, but she’s still being difficult.” She shrugged. “I know she’ll soften at some point, but this sucks, you know.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, just because I had no idea what else to say.

  “Shame Iris is gone,” she continued, oblivious to my lack of interest. “If she was still here, I bet Pedro and her would still be together and she would have gone out with us. She was a good friend.”

  “Uh-huh,” I repeated.

  She squinted her eyes at me. “What are you having? Can I have one too?” She reached for the fridge, but I stepped in the way and caught her wrist. She froze, her eyes big.

  “Don’t you think you already had enough?”

  She shrugged, tugging on my arm. I let go of her, but didn’t move from the front of the fridge. “What? Now you’re acting like my brother …” Not the best compliment I had heard from her. “I can hold my liquor, okay? Besides, I’m okay.”

  “It didn’t seem so when you entered the apartment.”

  She let out a loud chuckle. “Well, I’m known for losing my balance after one glass of whiskey or a bottle of beer, so that’s normal.” She tapped her temple. “But I don’t lose my wits.”

  “Right,” I dragged out, not really believing it. She seemed more smiley and chattier than usual. If that wasn’t the alcohol, I didn’t know what it was.

  She leaned her ass on the counter behind her. “Okay, then, if you’re not gonna let me have a beer, hand me a damn soda.”

  With a sigh, I grabbed a soda can from the fridge and handed it to her, then I went back to my previous position, mirroring Gabi on the other side of the narrow kitchen.

  She opened the can with a loud pop. “The night is young. We should put on some music and keep the party going. Or …” She lifted her finger as if she had the best idea ever. “We could work on the questions for the interview.”

  I wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. I didn’t know about her, but when I was drunk, or even a little tipsy, my tongue got loose and I spoke things I didn’t mean to say out loud. Everyone was like that, Gabi included, and right now, I didn’t think hearing her drunken confessions would be for the best.

  “Maybe tomorrow.”

  She tipped the can and took a long swallow. I watched as her long neck stretched. Too much creamy skin exposed. Too much temptation.

  I shook my head and cleared my throat, pushing those thoughts away.

  “Oh, come on, you’re no fun.” Gabi grabbed her phone and put on an upbeat country song, one of my favorites actually. “How can you listen to that and not want to dance?” She raised one arm over her head and moved it side to side along with her head and hips.

  Goddamn it.

  I groaned. “You should go to bed, Gabi.”

  She dropped the soda can on the counter and stepped toward me. “Don’t be a party pooper.” She grabbed my upper arms and tugged me forward. “Dance, tche.”

  “Gabi …”

  Her brows furrowed and her hands squeezed my biceps. She narrowed her eyes and started patting and groping my upper arms and shoulders, as if there was a mystery on them.

  “Gabi …” I groaned.

  “Do you work out?” she asked, serious. “You have to, otherwise, how can you be this ripped?” Her hands slid down slowly to my
chest. A spark of energy ran from her soft touch to my gut. “So hot?”

  Groaning, I closed my hands around her wrists and pulled her hands away. “Gabriela, you’re drunk.” I released her. “You should go to bed.”

  Yawning, Gabi swayed to one side. My heart lurched and I reached for her, sure she would face-plant on the kitchen’s floor. Instead, she twisted her legs and ended up gaining her balance back.

  Laughter erupted from her throat. “I’m not sleepy. Eu quero dançar.”

  I had no idea what she was saying. I just knew it couldn’t be good.

  Gabi shimmied her ass, and I averted my gaze. Shit, this wasn’t going well at all. Then, she spun in place. Of course, in her state, she tripped—again. This time I reached for her at the same time she reached for me.

  I encircled my arm around her waist and her hands smacked my chest, followed by her face. I froze as her warm lips brushed my skin, only for a second, but enough to twist my insides—and to send the spark of energy south. Startling me, Gabi laughed, her head falling back. Her neck was stretched right in front of me, so close to my lips. I felt myself giving in to this unwelcomed feeling assaulting me.

  Shit, no.

  Regaining my senses, I groaned and stepped back. After making sure she was steady on her feet, I let go of Gabi.

  With a smile nothing short of dazzling, Gabi extended her hand toward me again. “Meu Deus, dance, guri.”

  That was it.

  Without a word, I let her get closer, then I swooped her into my arms. She yelped before laughing again. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you to bed.”

  She yawned. “I’m not sleepy.”

  “The hell you aren’t.”

  She closed her eyes. “No, I’m not.”

  Next, Gabi rested her head on my shoulder.

  Counting my steps so I would focus on something else other than the beautiful girl in my arms, who was currently breathing down my neck and sending shivers down my spine, I took Gabi to her room. I deposited her in bed, and she turned to her side and kept on sleeping.

  What the hell?

  Well, I wasn’t going to do anything else. If she wanted to change into something more comfortable, she would have to do that herself.

  As if the place was catching on fire, I turned the lights off and rushed out of her room—making sure I closed the door.

  I stopped in the middle of the hallway and ran a hand over my still damp hair.

  Holy shit, so that was what I was supposed to live with? Temptation in the flesh? How would I keep up this pretense for two years when she was already dancing all over my personal space in less than a month?

  Cursing under my breath, I went back to the kitchen to finish my beer, because I damn well needed it.

  25

  Gabi

  The mate went down my throat burning, but it warmed my core and made my muddled mind less achy.

  This morning, I had woken up late and with a nasty headache. Droga. I wasn’t a lightweight and I knew I hadn’t been that drunk last night, but headaches were a common visitor after a few drinks.

  The worst part though wasn’t the headache. Não. It was remembering what had happened last night after I had come home. Puta merda. I had been too happy and I practically kissed Tyler’s chest. I sighed. Yes, he had a great, kissable chest, but he wasn’t mine to take advantage of. Not really.

  Only after taking a shower, putting on some clean clothes, and mustering a lot of courage, I braved coming out of my bedroom. And guess what? Of course, Tyler wasn’t home. He had left for work.

  At least, this time, he had left a note over the kitchen’s counter.

  Work until late.

  —Ty

  Bom, it was a start. A start that brought a pang to my heart. Why the hell did I feel something just staring at the note? It was ridiculous.

  After throwing his note in the trash, I rummaged the kitchen for breakfast, but nothing looked good to my queasy stomach. I didn’t feel sick, but I felt that if I pushed, I would be. So, I settled for my beloved mate.

  Determined to not waste my Sunday, I sat at the dinner table with my mate and laptop and started a new search. I had already researched polo clubs and horse ranches and all I could think of around the area, but there had to be more. I didn’t want to accept that all my choices had been taken from me—other than waiting to talk with the polo director from the club here in Santa Barbara. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, just to have him squash them like a fly on the wall.

  So, I searched more. Tried new keywords. Increased my range. What if my commute got too far? At least I would be living the dream and loving it.

  Thirty minutes later, I swallowed a scream of frustration. I had found a handful of ranches and places that taught polo for kids, but nothing looked promising. I added their names and phone numbers to the notes app on my phone, and set up an alarm. I would call them tomorrow, but I already knew the answers.

  No, we don’t play professionally.

  No teams here.

  This is just a school, nothing more.

  No, we aren’t interested in sponsoring a women’s team.

  Women’s team? Is that a thing now?

  I sighed.

  Why was I setting up myself for failure? Wherever I looked, I couldn’t see a light in this dark tunnel. There was no option here. I was stuck being a polo player wannabe and living forever in the shadows of my brother and cousins.

  My phone rang, making me jump out of my seat. I had been so lost in my thoughts, even the song set up as my ringtone scared me.

  The name “Hil” flashed on the screen.

  A small smile tugged at my lips and I answered the call. “Hey, guria. Tudo bem?”

  “Oi,” she said, trying out Portuguese. All of the girls and even Garrett knew basic words and sentences. And curse words. Those they all knew. “Want to come over? I’ve been sketching the outfits for the fashion show and I got some fabric samples I would like to show you guys. I already called Hannah and Bia.”

  I scrunched. “What if I say I’m not coming?”

  “Then we’ll stay on the phone until you do.”

  “What if I hang up?”

  She chuckled. “Then I’ll call again.”

  “What if I don’t pick up?”

  “Then I’ll go there and knock on your door until you open it for me.”

  This time, I chuckled. “Man, you’re pushy.”

  “No, I’m just a great friend.”

  I glanced around my apartment. Tyler was gone, and my search was taking me nowhere. I had nothing better to do. Besides, spending time with my family and friends was always great.

  “I’ll be there in a few …”

  “Oh, this isn’t a girls-only thing. The guys went practicing early morning and should be done at any moment. They will probably spend the afternoon playing video games.”

  “Ah …” A heavy feeling dropped in my stomach. “Tyler is working today.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “Yeah, he usually works Saturdays and Sundays.”

  “That sucks.”

  I sighed. “It does.” More than I wanted to admit. It was insane how lonely I felt whenever he wasn’t here.

  “Well, one more reason to come over. So you’re not alone there, missing your honey.”

  I gasped, choking on air. “Your honey?”

  She laughed out loud. “It’s old-fashioned, but still applies!”

  “Meu Deus …”

  “Okay, stop wasting my time. Just move your ass and come over!”

  Amused, I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see it. “Sim, senhora. Just … let me finish some quick things over here and I’ll be there soon.”

  “Good. See you soon, then.”

  “Tchau,” I said, before turning off the phone.

  I pushed out the chair and looked at the empty living room in front of me. I didn’t feel as excited as I thought I ought for going to spend some quality time with my family, b
ut it beat staying alone here, sorry for myself for not being able to do more and achieve my dreams.

  Before leaving, I wrote a short note for Tyler.

  Another week flew by. The guys left for a tournament on Thursday. They had played on Friday and won, as usual. They had invited me to go with them, but I thought seeing them in action would only make me more depressed. Instead, I told myself I would focus on researching more clubs and places, maybe even going to a few of them. Perhaps if I showed my face, it would give them a better impression?

  I just didn’t know anymore.

  I had also talked to my mother. She told me my father was still pissed at me. She was too, but she was better at hiding it, and also at forgiving. She told me she had been able to calm him down enough not to run to the airport and get the first flight here. I was thankful for that, but she warned me she might not be able to hold him back forever.

  “You should talk to him again, filha,” she said.

  I promised her I would, but I always chickened out.

  Though I hadn't spoken to my father, I had talked to Priscila a lot. We texted a couple of times a day. She was curious about Tyler and often questioned my sanity.

  “I just can’t believe you’re engaged,” she kept repeating. “So sudden. It isn’t like you.”

  She was right, but I couldn’t simply tell her the truth. Could I? Maybe someday.

  As for Tyler, I hadn’t seen a lot of him the entire week. Only when he got home from work late at night. He usually ate something quick and went to bed. We hadn’t started studying any of the interview questions, and that was making me worried.

  Friday early afternoon, I was researching more clubs when Tyler walked up to me and stood right in front of my chair.