Thirteen: Love By Numbers, #4

By E.S. Carter

Thirteen... 
Unlucky for some. 
Including me.

The woman I loved left me on the thirteenth. 
Thirteen months of living together and she walked out the door without looking back, straight into another man's arms. 
She was kind enough to leave something to remind me of her: thirteen thousand pounds worth of debt.

Thirteen; the day I lost my nuts. 
Well, I didn't lose them, cancer took them from me. Better to be a man without balls than one without life.
Still, thirteen sucked... until it didn't.

Until her.
Thirteen might just be my new lucky number.

*Thirteen is book #4 in the 'Love by Numbers' series. It is interconnected but can be read as a standalone.*

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.S. Carter
• Release date: Jan 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386530268

E.S. Carter

USA Today Bestselling Author, ES Carter, lives in Cardiff, South Wales—the home of castles, dragons, and folklore. Her family joke that she was born with a book in her hand, and the urge to write stories soon followed.  At eleven, she won her school's literary prize. At ages fourteen to sixteen - her poetry phase after falling in love with Dylan Thomas and e.e. cummings - she had a few poems published, but life, love, and family overtook her dreams, and she was in her thirties when she began the scary journey of self-publishing. Her debut and internationally best-selling series, 'Love by Numbers', are a set of interconnected stand-alone romances, all with varying themes of love. From second-chance to romantic comedy and M/M romance. These stories do not need to be read in order, in fact, she is often guilty of advising readers to start at the last book and work their way back through. Contemporary romance is not the only genre she writes, her second series, 'The Red Order', is as dark and twisted as you can get, but there is beauty there too if you can open your eyes and look. With many more stories bursting to be set free, she hopes you stay along for the ride. She loves to connect with readers, so please feel free to friend/follow her on Facebook, IG, and Twitter or join her reader's group, E's Elite <3 Sign up for my newsletter and get a FREE short story: https://www.subscribepage.com/ESCarter Facebook - https://goo.gl/Ih65tm Goodreads - https://goo.gl/2b0fDE

Book preview

The Love by Numbers series

Nineteen

Twenty-One

Three

Thirteen

Thirteen...

Unlucky for some.

Including me.

The woman I loved left me on the thirteenth.

Thirteen months of living together and she walked out the door without looking back, straight into another man's arms.

She was kind enough to leave something to remind me of her: thirteen thousand pounds worth of debt.

Thirteen; the day I lost my nuts.

Well, I didn't lose them, cancer took them from me. Better to be a man without balls than one without life.

Still, thirteen sucked... until it didn't.

Until her.

Thirteen might just be my new lucky number.

Thirteen is book #4 in the 'Love by Numbers' series. It is interconnected but can be read as a standalone.

"Never love anyone who treats you like you’re ordinary."

– Oscar Wilde

To G for being my soul mate and best friend; trust I seek and I find in you.

To L, G & A for inspiring me to be better.

To P for being the best big brother a girl could ever want. I miss you.

The whole ‘Love by Numbers’ series, including this book, is set in Britain and has been written using U.K. English. It contains euphemisms and slang words that form part of the British spoken word, which is the basis for this book’s writing style.

Please remember that the words are not misspelled, neither are any of the words that use U.K. spellings.

If you would like further explanation, or to discuss the translation or meaning of a particular word, please do not hesitate to contact the author. Contact details can be found at the back of the book.

Consciousness knocks against the back of my eyelids like an unwelcome cold-caller who is banging the shit out of your front door on a Sunday morning and trying to sell you double-glazing.

Fuck off, leave me alone, I mumble. Only the words never actually leave my lips. They rattle around the inside of my foggy brain, leaving me to wonder what kind of night I must have had, to emerge with a hangover like this.

I slowly force my eyelids open past the dryness. The caked on sleep feels like little grains of sand, ones that are scraping against my sensitive eyes, with every minute blink.

Strip lighting.

Stark white walls.

The sterile smell of bleach.

I attempt to roll over and get a better view of my surroundings, but my limbs won’t move. Have I been tied down?

Oh, fuck! I’ve been abducted by a sex-trafficking ring.

They are going to force-feed me poppers and Viagra and sell me off to a sadistic, wealthy old lady, who smells of mothballs and has a penchant for pony rides.

Oh, fuck! She is going to make me her pony!

Brian, come quickly. He’s awake.

The voice comes from somewhere in the blinding whiteness. It sounds familiar. Some fucker I know has sold me. Sold my body to the highest bidder.

Hang on, I know the name Brian, that’s my Dad’s name.

No. They wouldn’t dare.

A gentle hand brushes the hair across my forehead, and I can’t help but flinch at the touch. My parents have betrayed me. How dare she pretend to soothe me. Selling their only child to geriatric, sex perverts.

Harry, how are you feeling?

I don’t offer a reply, my eyes still can’t focus on her face, and my lips refuse to peel away from my teeth.

Brian, get the nurse. His eyes are open, but he’s not looking at me. Something’s wrong.

Movement from the corner of the room is what finally breaks through the haze. One more blink brings my mother’s face into focus. Her brow furrows with worry, and her usually smiling eyes are glassy.

There you are, where did you go, Harry?

I attempt to swallow but dry, sticky spittle coats my tongue.

Take a sip, only a little one to wet your mouth.

A straw is pressed between my lips and tepid water, which tastes faintly of antiseptic, washes over my arid mouth.

D…don’t sell me. I don’t want to be some old biddy’s living, breathing, dildo pony.

She squints a little, trying to decipher my garbled words.

All I heard was dildo and pony. She brushes her hand over my hair again, I’m going to assume you’re dreaming, and if that’s the case, I really do not want to know how that dream ends.

So I’m not going to be sold. It was all a weird dream. Thank fuck for that!

Hang on… if that was a dream, Where am I? What day is it?

Before she answers, more people enter the room.

Mum, I’m freaking the fuck out. I grab her arm, surprised when my limb actually moves at my command.

She turns back to me, just as my father and an unknown man reach the bottom of my bed.

Why, Darling, don’t you remember?

I shake my head.

You’re in the hospital; it’s just gone half past seven on Friday the 13th. You had your operation this morning, and everything went well. You just took a little longer to wake up than normal; that’s all.

It all comes rushing back to me.

Friday the 13th.

Hospital.

Operation.

No more nuts.

Fuck. I think I preferred the thought of being a sex pony.

Friday the thir-fucking-teenth.

Unlucky for some.

Including me.

The writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor would normally inspire me to break out some of my patented, H, booty moves, but tonight, I just want to sink a few bevvies with Isaac, Josh and Liam.

With my best mate, Jake, flying around the world and fast becoming an A-list star, thanks to his lead role in the Vampire’s Bite series, I have been spending more and more time with his brothers.

Mostly, it’s just Isaac when he’s in town, but sometimes the others will join us, that’s if their ball and chains, sorry, their other halves, allow them to come out and play.

Josh has been happily married to Laura for years; the only reason he is out with us tonight is because she’s up the duff with their second child and has allowed him some grown-up time with the boys before the next sprog makes an appearance.

Liam and Cari are completely inseparable. It’s sickening, really. Well, it would be if they both weren’t such nice people who deserved their level of love sickness. Then there’s Isaac, who is just like me; single and ready to mingle.

The only difference is, Isaac will mingle with just about anyone. No, that’s exaggerating; he will mingle with anyone hot. Oh, and he likes pussy and cock, he’s an equal opportunity philanderer.

Now and again, Nate, the eldest Fox brother, will join us, but he’s mostly overseas, running his empire and Jake will always show his face, but only when he’s in the same country.

Would I be classed as pansy if I said I missed him? Tough. I miss him, so call me a pansy and be on your way.

I skirt around the heaving dance floor and head to the private booth at the back of the club. Nate owns clubs all over the U.K. and has three in London alone; that’s without the super club he owns in Ibiza. The bloke is seriously minted and practically the Brit version of Bill Gates, but not for computers, for nightclubs.

Fucking hell, H. We thought you’d bailed on us. Don’t sit down, get the drinks in. Liam motions to his almost empty pint glass.

Well, hello to you too. You realise Nate employs waitresses for a reason, right? I know this isn’t the response he expected when his eyebrows lift and his smile falters. I guess the mumbled Fuckspud I tagged onto the end was heard over the music.

Yeah, I suppose it’s a bit sharp for me.

I’m H, funny guy, happy-go-lucky, banter king and source of fun. Not, H, the pissy, get your own drink, sour faced bastard, who calls his friends shitty names.

Josh stands and squeezes past his brothers, I’ll give you a hand.

I nod, ignoring the questioning looks of Isaac and Liam, and follow Josh towards the bar.

Another perk of being in Nate’s club is always getting served first. The VIP bar is busy, but as soon as we step towards it, the cute, blonde bartender comes straight over.

I take in her features, from her bright amber eyes, to her dainty button nose and as Josh gives her our order, I allow my eyes to roam her figure. She’s petite, with a generous rack and a firm, tight arse.

Normally, I’d be drooling.

Normally, I’d be attempting to laugh her into my bed.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, my Davidson doesn’t even twitch.

I’m starting to worry that when they took away my balls, they also took away my libido. I mean, I still get hard, still need to have a wank in the shower to scratch that itch, but I’m not interested in being intimate with anyone.

I’ve tried, trust me I’ve tried, but shit just goes tits up, only adding to my mortification.

I’ve not only lost my balls physically; I’ve lost my mental ones too.

Earth to H. Josh’s voice is accompanied by a hand to my shoulder.

I’ve zoned out again. Great.

Sorry, mate. Guess I’m not really up for this tonight. I shrug, hoping that I don’t look as weary as I feel.

Don’t sweat it, we all have bad days. You don’t have to be on top form all the time. Grab the drinks and let’s just have some banter with the lads. It’s probably my last night out with you guys for a while. I don’t like leaving Laura and Ivy alone, not now she’s almost four months pregnant.

I pick up two of the bottles from the bar and turn back towards our table.

You know if it’s pink or blue this time? I bet you’d love a blue one, I mean, you’re probably overrun with all that girlie shit being the only bloke in your house.

He smiles over at me, his face filled with emotion, I don’t care either way. Pink, blue, it makes no difference to us. We’ll just take healthy. Besides, I quite like being surrounded by my girls.

Fair enough. I can’t imagine making a baby, let alone two.

Then again, frozen sperm doesn’t quite sound as much fun as natural baby making does. I can see me now, ‘Hey, wanna have my kids? Cool, let me pop the microwave on defrost and find the turkey baster.’

Yeah. That’s not going to get the future mother of my children in the mood for some baby making.

We set the fresh drinks on the table, and I take a seat next to Isaac.

He and Liam are in the middle of a conversation about some model Iz has been banging.

I can’t believe you took both him and his girlfriend to bed. The guy must be into dudes; there’s no way I’d let a bloke in bed with Cari and me. Liam laughs, shaking his head and grabbing the bottle put before him.

"Oh, trust me. He was into dudes." Iz responds, hiding his smirk behind the lip of his glass.

Bro, too much info for us heteros. We love you, but we don’t need that image in our heads. Liam grimaces playfully; no malice intended.

I sit back and look at Isaac; I mean really look at him.

I can appreciate a good looking bloke, and there is no doubt the man looks good. Each of the Fox brothers are lookers, I’m surprised that I don’t have lower self-esteem, having grown up with them all, but I’ve always relied on my humour to get between a girl’s legs. It works too. Well, it used to.

Isaac’s hair is long, but not girly. He still looks like a man, just one with beautiful hair. His face always has a perfectly trimmed bit of scruff, and his eyes always hold a spark of naughtiness. I think this combination contributes to his success with both sexes. He’s all man, just one that knows what he likes and he likes sausage as well as sweet.

When did you know you wanted to shag blokes?

The question flies from my lips before I put any thought into how he might take my blunt query. Isaac has never hidden who he is from us, but we’ve never questioned him about it either.

We all look towards him, waiting for his response. I guess his brothers never asked him this either.

He takes another sip of his drink; his lips turned up on one side, his eyes staring out towards the dance floor. He takes so long to finally speak that I wonder if he’s decided not to answer, and then he laughs and says, Mr Wilson, hot as fuck, with deep brown eyes, thick corded arms and veins on his torso that ran all the way to his…

Don’t fucking finish that sentence, Liam chuckles, almost spitting out his beer.

Iz just laughs, What? He was my P.E. teacher. I used to sneak peeks at him in the locker room.

Liam chokes again, and Iz is quick to add, Don’t even fucking go there. You actually shagged your teacher; I only had wet dreams about mine.

Liam nods, but quickly replies, Fair enough, but she’s not my teacher anymore, she’s soon to be my wife, so less of the shagging talk.

Josh pipes up, You asked her yet?

Liam looks sheepishly at the label of his bottle, nervously peeling it away.

Nah, but I will. Soon.

Chicken shit. Isaac coughs, jokingly behind his glass.

I’m not a chicken shit; I just want it to be perfect. She deserves perfect.

Josh nods like the pussy-whipped man he is, Isaac just smiles, and I sit in silence.

My silence has been noted.

What’s up, H? Pussy got your tongue?

All three of them crack up in laughter. They are yet again talking about my last foray into the dating scene; date number twelve ‘post-balls’ and her devil cat called Mr Puss Puss. A devil cat that almost ripped my Davidson off, but that’s another story.

Fuck off, Iz. You lot have been yacking away like a bunch of old women, I can barely get a word in edgeways. Besides, I’ve contributed to the conversation. I got you talking about your first cock crush, didn’t I?

They all share a look, one that I can’t be arsed to decipher and then Josh clears his throat.

Any of you lot free next weekend to help out at a school fundraiser?

Josh is a Primary School teacher, as is his wife, Laura. He often tries to rope us into various school events, like barbeques, fetes, and sports days.

Can’t; Cari’s got classes. Liam rushes out.

Isaac shrugs, I’m in Milan.

Josh’s eyes fall on me and I realise I haven’t come up with an excuse quick enough.

Fuck. Why do I always have to be the one with no partner or high-flying job to fall back on?

H? Next weekend?

I glance at Josh, he’s staring intently at me through his thick-framed, hipster glasses. My eyes flick to Liam, who hides his smirk behind his bottle and Iz, who doesn’t bother to hide his grin at all.

I want to tell him to get stuffed. That spending my free time with a bunch of four-to-eleven-year-olds and their hoity-toity parents, sounds like hell on earth and that I’d rather put my todger through a meat grinder.

Instead, I paste on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, Count me in.

His face lights up. Doesn’t that make me feel like the biggest prick ever?

The thing is, Josh is nothing like his brothers.

Whereas Nate, the eldest Fox, is smooth, confident and a ruthless businessman, Josh is an unassuming homebody.

Whereas Jake, my best friend and the second eldest, is a cocky, self-assured (former) womaniser, Josh is a one-woman man, having been with Laura since High School.

He’s nothing like Isaac or Liam either, not that they aren’t great guys, he’s just even nicer. When I say that, I mean in the ‘I am that nice, I don’t even know it’ kind of way. Genuine, dependable and an all round good guy; one it’s impossible to say no to.

Cheers, H. It’ll be fun, I swear. He squeezes my shoulder, then reaches for his bottle, bringing it towards his mouth and taking a sip. A sip that almost explodes from his mouth when Isaac murmurs, Just don’t go offering the headmistress a quickie in the bogs this time.

I cringe.

Josh didn’t know about my encounter with his cougar boss at the last fete I helped out at.

He splutters behind his hand, his beer going down the wrong pipes and I shoot Iz a ‘What the fuck?’ glare.

You did what? Please tell me he’s taking the piss? Josh wipes the liquid from his chin with a napkin and begs me with his eyes to tell him it’s just a joke.

I glare daggers at a smirking Isaac and a chuckling Liam, then turn slightly to face Josh head on.

"Well… it wasn’t quite like that. I never shagged her in the bogs, or even got that far. It was more of a miscommunication."

He looks at me aghast, his previous beaming smile lost in the shock of Isaac’s revelation.

"A miscommunication? What kind of miscommunication leads to you propositioning my boss, my fifty-year-old, married boss? Because I can’t think of a good explanation for that, H." He looks at me like I’m one of his naughty students and I instantly break eye-contact and look down to the floor, like a scolded little boy.

Well, you had me on the ‘Hook-A-Duck’ game and she was next door on the ‘Get the ball in a jar’ game and she, well… she… umm, well she asked me to pass her the blue balls.

And?

Well, it was noisy in that hall, all those kids hollering and squealing like a bunch of bloody children.

"That’s because they are children." Liam offers up, and I snap my head up from looking at the floor to give him the stink eye.

I still don’t get it. Josh shakes his head, How is that an invitation for you to be inappropriate with my boss?

I chew at my bottom lip, cursing under my breath at those noisy brats who caused all this confusion in the first place.

Well, the thing is…

Spit it fucking out, H.

All eyes snap towards Josh. He never swears. I guess that means he’s pissed off at me before I even bother explaining.

Well, I thought she said… I mumble the last couple of words and they get swallowed up by the music pulsing all around us.

I can’t lip read, H. Speak up.

Josh’s voice is hard, stern even and I’ve never seen this side of him before. Maybe there is more to the meek and mild teacher. Maybe he’s not always such a pushover.

I clear my throat and look over at him, but don’t meet his eyes.

I thought she said, ‘Do you need any help with your blue balls’ and the thing is, I hadn’t had sex for a while and it was not long after Bella left and…

I’m rambling and I know it. I don’t deal well with pressure.

I hear a restrained chuckle that quickly morphs into a full belly laugh and immediately the words stop vomiting from my mouth.

Josh is doubled over, clutching his belly and laughing hysterically.

Between his hiccups and chortles, he manages to get out, You thought Mrs Primrose asked if you needed help with your blue balls? Seriously?

I nod at him, not knowing whether to join in his laughter or wait for him to punch me in the face. A glance at Iz and Liam tells me they look just as bemused