Taming tesla the gilroy.., p.1
Taming Tesla: The Gilroy Clan vol. 6, page 1
Taming Tesla
The Gilroy Clan vol. 6
Megyn Ward
Taming Tesla © 2019 by Megyn Ward. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner, whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from the author, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
FIRST EDITION 2019
Book design by Megyn Ward
Cover design by Megyn Ward
Cover photo by Adobe Stock
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: This book deals with sensitive subject matter and may trigger those who have dealt with or experienced trauma due to suicide
Created with Vellum
Contents
Untitled
Untitled
1. Declan
2. Tess
3. Declan
4. Tess
5. Declan
6. Tess
7. Declan
8. Declan
9. Declan
10. Tess
11. Declan
12. Tess
13. Declan
14. Tess
15. Declan
16. Tess
17. Declan
18. Tess
19. Declan
20. Tess
21. Declan
22. Declan
23. Tess
24. Declan
25. Declan
26. Tess
27. Declan
28. Tess
29. Declan
30. Tess
31. Declan
32. Declan
33. Declan
34. Tess
35. Declan
36. Tess
37. Declan
38. Tess
39. Declan
40. Tess
41. Declan
42. Tess
43. Declan
44. Tess
45. Declan
46. Tess
47. Declan
48. Tess
49. Declan
50. Tess
51. Declan
52. Tess
Declan & Tess Playlist II
Someone You loved – Lewis Capaldi
Haunting – Halsey
Found You Out - Sir Sly
Hold me tight (or don’t) – Fallout Boy
My Blood – 21 Pilots
Giver – K. Flay
Hurricane Drunk – Florence + The Machine
Roman Holiday – Halsey
Hell yeah – Nothing but Thieves
Tear in Your Hand – Tori Amos
Miss Missing You – Fallout Boys
The Fire and the Flood – Vance Joy
I’ve always loved you,
and when you love someone,
you love the whole person,
just as he or she is,
and not as you would
like them to be.
~ Leo Tolstoy
1
Declan
It’s Thursday.
At least I think it’s Thursday.
To be honest, I’m not really sure.
I haven’t seen the sun since Sunday.
Since I looked Tess in the eye and told her that I’m in love with her.
That I always have been.
That I never stopped.
I don’t believe you.
That’s what Tess said to me. She wasn’t angry when she said it. She didn’t yell or scream or try to pull my head off my shoulders the way she usually does when we fight.
This time she was calm. Matter of fact. Completely removed from the fact that we’d spent the last six hours naked and making each other come. When I told her I loved her, she met my gaze head-on and told me I was full of shit and I’ve spent the last however many days since fighting to keep myself together.
And I’m losing.
I left my truck at the bar after the fight with my dad and started walking. It’s something I used to do almost every night. It started long before I started boosting cars for Tess’s dad Wound too tight to stop spinning. I needed to move. Think. Couldn’t stop.
Not like Con. His top never stopped spinning. Never even wobbled. Never missed a beat.
Not until Henley.
Not until I broke them both.
No, it took me a while to run out of gas but eventually, I’d get there. Trudge home, spent. Finally ground down to nothing. Sneak in through to the kitchen door and creep up the back stairs, careful to avoid the treads that creak and groan under my weight. Slip down the hall, past Con’s room where the light was always on and into my own room. Then I’d lay down and sleep like the dead.
During those walks, it occurred to me more than once that I was looking for something. Something I wanted but lost. Something I needed but hadn’t found yet.
I used to think it was the missing piece of me. The piece that’d make me a good son. A good brother. A good person. Someone worth seeing. Someone who wouldn’t destroy everything he touched.
It all stopped the night I walked into Mr. C’s garage, looking for Tess.
I stopped looking for the part of me that could be decent and started believing I’d had it all along. I believed it because Tess believed it. That despite all the horrible shit I did, I had the capacity to be a good person.
So, Sunday afternoon, I walked the neighborhood like I used to. Circling the block and cutting down side streets. Somehow I ended up in the alley I brought Tess to that night I came looking for her. Standing at the mouth of it, I remembered how nervous she was, standing next to me in the dark. The way her hand felt in mine. Fine-boned and covered in calluses. What she said right before she walked away from me.
Stay away from me.
I should’ve listened to her.
I kept walking. Past my parents’ house. Henley’s Mercedes is parked on the street. Patrick’s Audi. His work truck too. I imagine they’re all in there—my brother and Henley. Ryan and Patrick. Cari and her parents. They’re celebrating. Marveling over the fact that Patrick and Con popped the question on the same night without either of them knowing.
I keep walking. Don’t even think about going in. Pointing myself in the direction of the bar, I plan on going back to my Fortress of Solitude and ordering some takeout. Watch SportsCenter until my eyes glaze over. When I passed the garage, I heard music leaking through its windows and knew that Tess wasn’t at home with her dad like she was supposed to be. That she was in there. That she was alone.
And my plans changed.
When I walked into Con’s garage, I found her in the back of the truck I gave her for her birthday, drinking beer and hating my guts.
I didn’t go looking for her to fuck her.
Yes you did—because you’re a selfish bastard who can’t think past his own wants and needs.
I went looking for her to tell her I was sorry. To tell her it wouldn’t happen again. That she had every right to hate me. To apologize for the millionth time. Let her scream and spit at me. Tell me what a lying piece of shit I am. Tell me how much she hates me. To stay away from her. Leave her alone and I’d tell her that I would, even though I know I can’t.
I can’t stay away from her.
I tried. For a while I even succeeded but I can’t do it anymore.
I don’t want to do it anymore.
Which makes you the biggest, most selfish son of a bitch on the planet.
Congrats, dickface.
Someone’s knocking on my front door.
Again.
Not the first time someone’s come around to pound on it, trying to get me to show my face in the last few days. Patrick mostly, and I think he just wanted to yell at me because I tore into his finance over the fact that she’s wearing our grandmother’s ring. Or maybe because I’m his business partner and I’ve been shirking my load lately and he’s finally sick of my shit. Con was here once, banging on the door, calling me a goddamned crybaby and telling me that I need to get the fuck over myself. He doesn’t know what happened between Tess and me. I know he doesn’t because if he did, he would’ve kicked the door off its hinges and tried to kill me.
Another round of knocks, accompanied but a sigh so loud and heavy I can hear it through the door. A sigh that’s frustrated and distinctly female. “Declan—it’s Cari.” A soft voice reaches through the door, instantly stiffening the back of my neck. “I’m alone. Please open the door.”
Fuck.
I peel myself off the couch and cross the room, muttering about my asshole family and why the fuck won’t they leave me alone, before I can even ask myself what I’m doing. Why I’m answering the door when all I want is to be left the fuck alone. Plastering my scariest scowl across my face, I unlock the door and yank it open. “What?”
“Good morning to you too, Sunshine.” She gives me a sunny smile. “You look like hammered shit. Can I come in?”
Swiping a hand over my face, I grimace at the feel of several days’ worth of beard rasping against my palm. I probably smell like hammered shit too. “No.”
“Come on…” She lifts her arm to show me a bag with Benny’s logo stamped on its front. “I brought breakfast.”
Warm, spicy smells waft between us and my stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven t fed it anything solid in… I can’t remember the last time I ate actual food which makes me feel like my crazy-ass brother. Still, I wedge myself in the doorway and flick a glance over her shoulder. The office is deserted. Just Jane sitting at her desk, trying to pretend she’s not gawking at us—or rather me. Save for a pair of boxer briefs, I don’t have a stitch on. Looking down again, I find Cari where I left her, still smiling up at me, not even a little bit intimidated by the fact that I’m 95% naked, angry and roughly the size of a Volkswagen.
“I said no.” I’m being a dick and I feel like shit about it because if there’s one person involved in all this that doesn’t deserve it, it’s Cari. She’s always been nice to me. Never looked at me like I’m something she found stuck on the bottom of her shoe. Never made me feel like shit.
That’s because she doesn’t know you. Not the real you anyway… maybe you need to fix that.
The thought digs my scowl into my face. Pushes it so deep it practically turns into a snarl. “Leave me the fuck alone, Cari. I’m not in the mood.”
She doesn’t stop smiling. “I hope you like chorizo and egg because that’s all Nora had on short notice.” Ignoring my asshole behavior, she pushes herself past me, slipping through the tiny crack between me and the door like water and I let her because stopping her would have to involve putting my hands on her and that’s not happening.
I pull myself out of the doorway and shut it before turning to watch her drop her bag of what I assume are breakfast burritos on my coffee table. “Does Cap’n know you’re here?” I ask, even though I know the answer is no. Patrick wouldn’t want her anywhere near me. Not when I’m like this.
She breezes past the coffee table and stops in front of the room’s only window. “Nope,” she chirps at me before giving the cord dangling from the blinds a determined jerk. Light bursts through the glass, practically burning my eyes out of my fucking skull. “And for the record, Declan Gilroy—I don’t give a good goddamn what you’re in the mood for, so shut up and sit down because you and I are gonna talk.”
“Motherfuck—get out.” I’m finished playing nice. If I wasn’t blind, I’d snatch her up and toss her and her fucking breakfast burritos out on her ass. “Now.”
She doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t move. I don’t have to see her to know what she’s doing. She’s assessing the damage. Counting the empties crowding my counter. Trying to decide if she really wants to bother with the two-hundred eighty pound, half-drunk and mostly naked hassle, snarling and blinking at her from across the room.
“No.” Making her decision, Cari stacks her hand on her hips and calls my bluff. “Not until we talk—so, if you want me to leave, you’re going to have to throw me out. Physically.”
Goddamnit.
“Have you always been such a pain in the ass?”
“Probably.” She gives me a shrug. “Have you always been such a stubborn dickhole?”
“Yes.” I bark it at her, giving my face another angry swipe when all she does is stand there and stare at me. Talk about stubborn. “Jesus Christ. Fine.” Rubbing the back of my head where I feel a headache coming on, I finally give up. “Mind if I put on some pants first?”
“Whatever.” She plops down on the couch before reaching for the bag she tossed onto the coffee table. “Better hurry up, though—your breakfast is getting cold.”
2
Tess
I’ve spent the last four days on auto-pilot. I get up and go to the garage. I work my ass off. Give Con a hard time about getting his hair cut and the fact that his engagement to Henley is being announced in the New York society pages.
After work, I usually stop by Gilroy’s and sit at the bar. Hang out with Logan and watch him ignore the flocks of females that have gravitated toward him now that both Patrick and Con have made it clear that they’re off-limits. I tease him about his new-found popularity and occasionally encourage him to make a move on one of them while refusing to acknowledge the fact that what I’m really doing is waiting for Declan to finally show his face.
He hasn’t. Not since Sunday. From what I gather, no one’s seen or talked to him since then. Patrick’s tried to talk to him a few times. Even Con banged on his door and yelled at him, trying to get him riled enough to answer the door. Neither one of them had any luck and I know they’re getting worried because they’re talking about calling in the big guns—Con and Declan’s mother. If they’re willing to get Mary Gilroy involved then they’re legitimately concerned.
I suppose I could help with that. At least tell them why Declan’s holed up and pouting in his playhouse.
Because we spent most of Sunday naked and locked together and afterward, when he told me loved me, I ripped his guts out and stomped on them for sport but saying the one thing I knew would destroy him.
I don’t believe you.
Four days later and I still get sick to my stomach when I think about it. The way he looked at me when I said it. Like I’d stabbed him with something dull and rusty.
Like I’d destroyed him.
Which was the goal.
What I wanted.
So why do I feel so shitty?
Why do I want to drop the wrench in my hand, jump in my car and go to him. Apologize. Tell him that I love him too. Beg him to touch me. Tell him that I’ll do anything he wants as long as he keeps touching me.
Because you’re weak.
And pathetic.
And sad.
When it comes to Declan Gilroy you always have been.
Always will be.
Even though it’s dangerous, I’ve started wearing earbuds at work because if I have to take one more second of Con analyzing my music choices, I might set this whole fucking place on fire. So, when I catch movement in the corner of my eye, I don’t push myself out from under the SUV I’m changing the oil on. I just flick my gaze up and around the wheel well to watch the pair of expensive heels click their way toward me.
Henley.
“Con’s at the library,” I say loudly without pulling out my earbuds. “He’s helping Margo sort through book donations.”
When the heels don’t move or click back across the concrete and away from me, I figure she’s here to talk to me.
Which is too fucking bad, because I haven’t talked to her since last Saturday. Not since she gave me that fucking dress and convinced me to wear it, and I have no intention of starting now.
“I’m on my own and slammed so if you’re looking for someone to go to lunch with or whatever, go bug Cari.”
She still doesn’t move.
Confident that she’ll get the idea eventually, I go back to what I’m doing, scooting out of the way to maneuver a drip tray under the oil pan before I pull the lid. Setting it aside I catch movement again and look over to watch Henley kick her thousand-dollar peep-toes across the garage and drop to her hands and knees. Her face is suddenly inches from mine and she looks irritated, her mouth moving tightly around whatever it is she’s shouting at me. Giving in, I yank out one of my earbuds.
“—know you’re angry, but you’re being ridiculous. How can I—” She stops short when she realizes I’m finally listening to her. “I’m sorry, Tess.” Her face falls a little, her generous mouth pulling down at its corners. “I really am sorry. I didn’t want to do it, I just—”
“Do what?” I plant my feet and wheel my creeper backward to push myself out from the SUV. When all she does is stare at me, I laugh and toss my wrench in my toolbox before sitting up. “It’s a legitimate question. You’ve done a lot of shit to be sorry for—I’m just trying to keep it all straight.” I plant my feet and stand, reaching behind me to pull my bandana out of the back pocket of my coveralls to scrub my hands clean while she struggles to her feet.
