Текст книги "Whisper to Me"

Автор книги: Christina Lee

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Whisper to Me
Between Breaths – 3
Christina Lee

To Stacie. You are courageous. Resilient. Beautiful.

Chapter One Rachel

Scientists say that we’re all made of pieces of stars.

Never had that felt truer in my life than that one fateful night three years ago. I’d clung to my boyfriend’s shirt on the back of an old dirt bike as he increased his speed around the bend on Meadow Road. When the motorcycle narrowly missed the cat that darted into our path and skidded against the guardrail, I could have sworn I went sailing as high as those glittering pinpoints of light.

Crashing down and leaving a trail of dust in my wake, I stared up at those brilliant luminaries stretching through the heavens. I reached for the promise ring that’d hung as a fixture around my neck, but my fingers only met my collarbone. I was certain my head had burst into flames, the stars low and imposing, as darkness descended upon me. I imagined myself combusting into a fine powder, and uniting with those incandescent wonders, like a dazzling supernova in the sky.

And now here I was again, at another one of these field parties, the kind I hadn’t been to since high school. Though it was good to see all of my old friends, some of them still didn’t know what the hell to say to me. And I didn’t know what to say to them. Since we’d added a few semesters of college, the division had become even wider. It was now the summer between my junior and senior years of college, but to them I was still the girl with the shaved head and ugly scar.

My neck was stiff from gazing upward, so I yanked my legs inside the bed of the truck and settled against a rolled-up sleeping bag. It was flipping hot out here for eleven o’clock at night. Beads of sweat formed above my lip and pooled down the center of my boobs.

I located the North Star and stared at it until my vision blurred and the beat of the music took over my senses. Shane Garity had had the same damn pickup truck since way back when. It was old and rusty but the speakers could still crank out the tunes. And everyone continued to seek out the field in the back of his parent’s house for impromptu parties just like this one.

Some things never changed.

Dakota hadn’t returned from using the bathroom, so I figured she and Shane were up to their usual flirting ways. He’d crushed on her all through high school, and she knew it and practically egged him on, except when her brother, Kai, was around. He was Shane’s best friend and had let him know in no uncertain terms that his sister was off-limits.

My elbow had knocked over her red Solo Cup and her syrupy wine had leaked into the rusty cracks of the truck bed. It reminded me of the way the lovable me had trickled away as the trauma team stitched my head back together.

Dakota was my oldest friend, and even though we’d gone our separate ways after high school, she easily folded me back into her life, and had even begged me to stay at her expensive apartment this summer. Her parents were loaded, and despite having been blessed with the newest model car, amazing digs, and incredible looks, she never acted like a spoiled brat. She worked her ass off for her finance degree at the local private university and was motivated to make a name for herself.

I figured it’d be an easy commute into the city from her apartment to help Mom with her fledgling business. When Daddy divorced her the year after my accident, she got the house and the company. But the location of Pure sucked. It was smack dab in the middle of the touristy part of the city and sightseers didn’t seem to be interested in handmade soaps and lotions. They wanted magnets and bumper stickers. No wonder the store wasn’t doing so hot.

Mom had remarried and moved to a smaller condo with her new husband, but she kept hanging on to this damn business as if her life depended on it. I always suspected she wanted to prove to Daddy that she’d made something of it. I’d suggested a location change to the East End and she’d taken that as a sign that I’d help her make the move this summer.

“Been studying astronomy in your spare time?” Shane asked.

Dakota stood near the rear wheel next to Shane, whose hands were shoved deep in his pockets. I gave them both a cursory glance to check for any signs of fooling around. The way his gaze roamed over her profile in quiet admiration made something stir inside my chest. Like a quiet yet potent surge of longing for someone I once loved. But then it slid away and I chalked it up to the nostalgia of being around this place again.

“The stars are brighter out here, asshead,” I said. “You know that.”

Dakota shook her head. “God, I missed your face. But your potty mouth? Not so much.”

“I appreciate Rachel’s potty mouth,” Shane said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That’s a given,” Dakota said, rolling her eyes. “Boys.”

“I’m a complete package,” I said with a wink. “Take it or leave it.”

My effortless banter with my childhood friends was reminiscent of the same easiness I shared with my college friends, Avery and Ella. Except with Dakota and Shane, the easiness was real. I was someone different with my friends from school. Someone bolder and unattached—because if I was bold and unattached, I didn’t have to be me. Coming home had knocked some of that newfangled fire out of me, stripped me down to who I really was.

Dakota fingered the yellowed, peeling sticker on the truck’s bumper. Life’s a bitch and then you die. The adage found everywhere—widely accepted, even—from coffee mugs to greeting cards. I agreed it was a fair summation. Apart from the fact that I’d cheated death, which meant that bitch had spared me, so maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

“You miss the city, Rachel?” Shane asked. He was ruggedly handsome, and he and Dakota would definitely make a sweet couple. He was kind and cool and never an asshole, which endeared him to me most of all. He still felt guilty about that night. I could see it in his eyes. But it had been my decision to hop on the back of his bike with no helmet for the ride of my life with Miles—only to return as wrecked as the motorcycle.

“It’s not like we’re in the boonies.” Dakota snorted. “The city’s only a train ride away and I’m guessing it wasn’t such a big change for her after all. Right, Rach?”

“Only a change of scenery, really.” I took a sip of my beer and returned to stargazing.

Dakota knew I’d left for college dejected, after Miles had broken things off while I was still laid up in the hospital. I left for a place far away, where no one would know to treat me differently, as everyone had been doing since my recovery.

I’d gone through months of rehab by the time I left, and despite occasional headaches, a slightly off-balance gait, and numbness in my fingers from time to time, nobody at college suspected I’d suffered a near-fatal subdural hematoma—in other words, a brain bleed, caused by the impact of the accident.

“Always wanted to hang at the less touristy places,” Shane said. “But Dakota didn’t invite me on her trip during winter break.”

Dakota bumped Shane with her hip. “That’s because I needed girl time with Rachel. I was afraid she’d forgotten about me.”

That little dig was for my benefit. I’d kept my distance, even from my best friend, because she was impossibly perfect and I felt like I couldn’t measure up during my recovery. She’d become an unrelenting cheerleader in rehab, constantly pushing me to try harder, do better—rah, rah, rah!—but I had practically caved from the pressure.

“I’d never forget you, babe.” Still, she was the one person who knew me best.

Or at least she used to. Little did Dakota know I’d spent my college years erasing Miles from my mind by becoming a new person. A different person. With a second chance at life. I hadn’t let things tie me down, so I’d never let anyone get too close. I’d bedded whomever I wanted and I always up and left them after they helped me take off the edge.

That’s why Avery and I saw eye to eye. She had the same attitude about guys. Until she met Bennett. And then Ella met Quinn—but that was just in time for me to leave town for the summer, anyway.

Avery and Ella accepted me for who I was even though I’d never let them get close enough to learn about my past. I’d become the free-spirited girl I’d always dreamed of being, with no worries dragging me down. It had worked until the phone call came from Mom, begging me to move back home this summer. Before that, I had been able to avoid prolonged visits since high school.

But Mom had been there for me, and now I needed to return the favor. I needed to revisit my old ties and responsibilities.

“How do you think your bro’s adjusting to being home?” Shane asked, and my head immediately snapped up at the mention of Dakota’s older brother.

When Dakota convinced me to live with her, she hadn’t told me that Kai had returned from studying abroad in Amsterdam and was crashing at her place this summer. During the past week I’d spent with the two of them, I couldn’t help smirking at the pseudo Dutch accent he’d picked up or secretly drooling over his new physique. I mean damn, he must have bench-pressed some serious windmills or shit over there.

Not that he was my type. I’d always had a thing for jocks. And Kai—with his rotating selection of Vans sneakers and pants that fit his lean thighs like a second skin—was most certainly not a jock.

Still, Kai and Dakota were my oldest friends. I needed to rein in my thoughts. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d admire Kai from a distance and it wouldn’t be the last.

Dakota and Kai were easily two of the most striking people I’d ever laid eyes on. A mix of Dutch from their mother’s side and Native American from their father’s side, they’d been blessed with shiny hair that resembled silky strands of onyx.

They also had the same elusive indigo eyes as their mother, who had sandy-brown hair and fair skin. Next to Mr. Nakos, with his deep brown eyes, hair, and skin, she and her husband made an attractive couple. But the blend of their looks together, in their children, was breathtaking. Mrs. Nakos liked to joke that her children were mutts, but most would agree that the family looked more like well-bred aristocrats ruling the most exquisite, exclusive island.

At least Dakota did. Kai looked more like some flashy rock star, given his piercings and shoulder-length hair.

Kai’s family had owned several successful businesses over the years, including the casino a few miles up the road from where we grew up. A part of me wondered if Kai had returned from Amsterdam to join his father’s ventures, but I instantly batted the idea down. Kai wanted nothing to do with the family business. But Dakota indicated that he’d gotten himself in some trouble and lost his internship with a recording studio. Their mother’s Dutch cousin had all but kicked him out after that.

Kai had always been kind of a loose cannon—a lost soul. He’d been in his share of bands, played several instruments, and had a reputation as a bad boy around town. And beautiful bad boys always got the girls. There’d been no shortage for him in that department.

But he was also a walking contradiction. His true passion was jazz music, though he’d never admit it out loud. He’d lug around his upright bass in a beat-up hard-shell case that looked as if it’d been on tour with a rock band. And maybe it had—at least for that one summer when he’d traveled with a swing band and afterward hooked up with a local celebrity metal group, in which he’d primarily played the keyboard. That boy was mad talented.

“Looks like nothing’s changed, right?” Dakota said.

Kai stood near the bonfire surrounded by a few girls who no doubt wanted his undivided attention, just like old times. He had on a pair of black skinny jeans that nobody had any business wearing, with some stud and hoop earrings dangling from his ears. His shoulder-length, glossy black hair was pulled away from his face in a low ponytail. And he wore two shirts, gray on top of white, thick enough to hide his nipple piercings, but every female in the general vicinity knew that if luck were on her side, she’d be able to find them.

“That’s my boy,” Shane said, laughing. Being Kai’s best friend had its advantages when it came to the female population, but Shane had always been the more serious one when it came to relationships. He usually had a girlfriend, but his relationships never lasted for too long, and in between, he’d pine over Dakota. Or maybe even during.

When Kai’s eyes latched onto mine from across the yard, I felt that familiar pull toward him. It was as if he and I were parallel in this one singular moment. Both fish out of water, having abandoned our homes—only to return, eager to find our way.

Hoping to make it work.

And damn, as Kai pushed his calloused fingers through the stray pieces of hair that fell from his makeshift elastic tie, I remembered what a beautiful soul he was. He’d always had his looks going for him, sure. But tonight, with the glow of the embers slanting across his bronzed cheekbones, he seemed even more gorgeous. And there was something in his stance—the way he toed the dirt, fists clenched at his sides that made him seem vulnerable. Exposed. More open than I’d ever witnessed before.

The vision of him knocked the breath straight from out of my lungs.

But then he ruined that perfect image by taking a long drag of the joint in his hand. I hated when he smoked. Still, I couldn’t help but notice how his full lips curved over the top of the blunt.

What in the hell was wrong with me?

I’d grown up with Kai and was practically a member of his family. And he knew nearly everything about me—up until three years ago.

Dakota said he’d been smoking way too much weed, and it had nothing to do with it being legal in Amsterdam. I knew the only thing Kai ever wanted to do with his life was play music in some way, shape, or form. So when he decided to study music theory in Amsterdam, I was actually impressed. Until I found out that he’d been hanging with a new crowd, was close to doing something bordering on illegal, and Mr. Nakos had encouraged him to get the hell out of the country.

I shook my head—Kai was always in some kind of trouble.

Some dude pulled in way too fast on a red Yamaha motorcycle. “Don’t crash, you idiot,” Mile’s old teammate yelled as the bike skidded in the grass. Too many eyes darted in my direction, and there was nervous tittering from some of the girls. Nope, being home was not awkward in the least bit.

“I’m getting another drink,” I said, jumping down from the truck. “Want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” Dakota said. She and Shane had gotten involved in a conversation with some former classmates who’d just arrived at the party.

I headed toward the cooler for another beer. As I passed by the bonfire, I heard Kai’s low and smooth voice telling his admirers how the red-light district wasn’t as it appeared in movies.

“Let’s drill Rachel about what the big city’s been like.” I felt strong fingers grip my hand, and then I was yanked into the hard wall of Kai’s chest.

“Sound good, Turtle?” he whispered, and I playfully elbowed him in the ribs. It’d been his nickname for me since middle school cross-country. I was one of the slowest on the team in my forest-green uniform, and he’d gotten a kick out of his joke. When I’d tell him where to stick it, he’d only change it to a turtle name like Shelly or Myrtle just to piss me off.

Kai’s arm immediately curled around my neck in a kind of headlock, like the three years had never passed between us. He’d made this same obnoxious move countless times in high school and I’d clamber to get away from him, because it always made me feel like a kid in front of his metal-head friends. And, more important, in front of him.

But this time felt different—he was all warm skin over hard muscles, and his arm had sprouted biceps I’d never felt before. Instead of trying to get away, I grew motionless as the enormity of my own smutty thoughts crashed down on me—thoughts about this boy who was now a man, who just happened to be my best friend’s brother.

Apparently, nostalgia was a bitch, too. I didn’t know what in the hell had come over me.

“Are you going for your CPA, Rachel?” Julia, one of my old high school friends, asked. I could muster only a nod, but that was enough of an opening as she went off on a tangent about how hard her own business classes had been at her university.

I remained hyperaware of the fact that my body was aligned with Kai’s, that my ass was right up against his crotch, and how it seemed so damn wrong to even think about the nice package he had going on behind me.

Kai would never know that I included him on the short list of guys who’d left me. Right there with Miles and my dad. When Dakota was considering her college options, I’d decided that, despite her impossible standards of perfection, I wouldn’t let her leave me, too. So I was the one who chose a college far enough away that I wouldn’t return to visit very often. I wouldn’t return at all. Until now.

Now Kai ran his thumb through the back of my waves like he used to do right before he’d fuck up my hair—usually after it had been carefully flat-ironed and sprayed. He’d always irritated the hell out of me.

I’d finally finished growing out my locks this past spring—my hair had remained short for too long after surgery and had been an almost-constant reminder to me that I had cheated death.

But this time I didn’t care if he messed up my hair or not. Having his strong arm around me made me feel protected. Safe. Like I was home.

I shivered as the edge of his nail skimmed my scalp in slow and lazy circles. Until it traced along the very edge of my scar. His fingers stilled and his grip on me tightened, as if to say, I know you.

It felt way too damn intimate, so I pushed on his forearm and broke free of his hold, scooting far away. But not before turning back and shooting him a scathing look.

But my cutting gaze didn’t faze him. He chewed on his bottom lip and stared at me with a questioning gaze.

Who have you become, Rachel?

Wouldn’t he like to know.

Chapter Two Kai

As I watched Rachel walk away from me, I realized she was all grown up. And she was different.

Not only physically. Yeah, her rich brown hair had grown below her shoulders and it softened her carved cheekbones and strong jawline. But there was a sharpness in her eyes that I’d never witnessed before—not even during the months after Miles left her or while she’d worked her ass off during physical therapy exercises, determined to use her limbs again.

This was a different kind of fire. Harsh. Resolute. Unwavering. One that told me she’d drawn a line and anyone who crossed it might get burned. The severity in her eyes was like a road hazard, warning someone not to get too close. Not even me. Not even the boy she’d grown up with and told practically everything.

Sure, we hadn’t seen each other in three years, and it had taken me a long while to stop thinking about her every minute of every day. To stop hoping she was still healthy, and to prevent my fingers from dialing her cell too often. Instead, I got updates from Dakota or my cousin Nate, on my mother’s side. I only ever saw him at holiday time but I knew he also attended TSU. Hung in the same circle of friends, even.

He’d told me Rachel liked the jocks, and when I couldn’t stomach it any longer, I told him to shut the fuck up. Told him I only wanted to know if she seemed healthy and happy.

I figured I’d run into her again someday. Maybe by then I’d be over her.

Over her piercing emerald eyes, which were as translucent as the green bottle fisted in my hand. As multifaceted as the sea glass that washed up on the lakeshore. Or maybe I’d be over the feel of her fingers entwined in mine, and the image of her teeth tugging at her bottom lip, which happened whenever she was unsure of herself.

But on the night I returned from meeting with my former band, all it took was catching sight of her curled up on Dakota’s couch, and I was right back where I was three years ago. I knew she was there the moment I came in the front door. I could smell her scent, and I gripped my guitar case so tightly my fingers ached.

Because seeing her basically unhinged me.

As I removed my boots so as not to wake her and then padded toward the couch on the hardwood floor, the realization hit me that she had changed. She was prettier, shapelier, more womanly.

Her scent was the same as in high school. The one from her mother’s holistic or whatever-the-hell shop where she made her own soaps and lotions. Rachel had said it was called rice flower and it was like a whiff of fresh spring air with subtle floral undertones. I’d never smelled it anywhere before and anywhere since, and I had to restrain myself from picking her up off the cushion and folding her into my chest as soon as that scent filled my nose.

But she awoke as I neared her, and as she took me in through narrowed eyes, I wondered what she saw in me three years later. Her scrutiny sent my stomach into a free fall.

Because I had changed, too. In fact, I had changed the very night I’d heard the news of her accident. It was after band practice and I was out partying with my boys. I dropped everything to rush to the hospital, even though I was high as a kite.

I was there for her every damn day after that. Especially when Miles left. He’d never been worthy of her and she didn’t deserve his abandonment. Her parents, Dakota, and I kept a rotating shift at the rehab facility. She’d had minimal use of her fingers and her speech had been slurred, so we needed to keep up her morale, keep her fighting.

It was a one-person battle, and she recovered weary, yet unwavering.

When she began choosing colleges, I was still waffling on what the hell to do with my life. I was living at home, playing in bands, my parents getting increasingly more irritated with my supposed laziness. When I was almost implicated in a breaking and entering my band mate pulled off, I decided to get as far away from Rachel and my feelings about her as possible—before I screwed up even more right in front of her eyes.

Mom called in a favor with her cousin’s friend who ran a recording studio in Amsterdam, and I headed out there to work as his intern. I studied music theory at the university, too, but I was only truly happy during my nights at the studio, when I helped an album come together or sat in on a creative session, like when a jazz band put together a demo before an upcoming tour.

Otherwise, I was constantly reminded that something was absent from my life. Someone.

I asked myself why I hadn’t just told her what I was feeling, but I knew she’d been too raw. From the accident. From her recovery. From Miles dumping her.

Besides, I had my own life to figure out. My parents were great, but I’d always been kind of a fuckup. I didn’t know what I wanted to do other than play music, and I felt as if I should’ve been more ambitious, like my father.

Thankfully Dakota fulfilled that role for my parents. And even Shane was more like a son than I’d ever be. Every summer he returned home to work for my father at the casino.

“Kai.” On the first night I’d seen her, Rachel’s voice had been raspy, drowsy, sexy. She’d reached out her hand. “Your hair grew.”

“Yeah,” I’d said, kneeling beside the couch. “So did yours.”

Her fingers entwined with mine and she tugged me in for a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

I stifled a groan as she laid her head against my neck and slipped her arms around my shoulders. She was warm and soft and sleepy. I kissed her temple quickly and then pulled away before I fell back under her spell. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

After that night, Dakota had helped Rachel and me get our belongings sorted out in our temporary spaces, and we hung out together often. We watched movies, opened bottles of wine and reminisced—always skating along the surface, never delving too deep into who we’d become.

And before tonight, I hadn’t touched her since.

I headed toward Shane’s house to take a leak. Nudging past a few people in the kitchen and then a couple of dudes who high-fived me, I made my way to the guest bathroom located on the first floor. Shane’s mom always used some sort of strong lavender air freshener in here and it brought me right back to our high school days and all the drunken weekend bashes.

It was probably wrong of me to have sought out Rachel at this party. To have wanted contact with her. Call it homesickness or nostalgia or whatever the hell you want, but I swear, she was like a goddamn remedy or cure or something. Still, she had no clue how I felt about her. She’d never know. Behind the weed, the piercings, the girls, and the I-don’t-give-two-fucks attitude, I hid it well.

If she found out I’d fallen for her during her recovery, she’d freak. Her heart had been broken and she’d lost the substance of her former self. A huge wall of grief surrounded her on all sides. I’d gone day after day as her friend. I held her hand when she cried, her hair back when the contents of her stomach wouldn’t cooperate with her medications, read her books, and watched countless hours of television with her.

So tonight, when I’d pulled her into my chest like a brother would do to antagonize a kid sister, she never suspected that I’d just wanted to smell her. To push aside her hair and taste the skin just below her ear. My elbow rested just above her breasts and I couldn’t help noticing how they’d filled out, along with her shapely hips, since her recovery. She looked healthy and gorgeous and irresistible.

And most surprising was that she didn’t push me away like she normally did. She didn’t tell me I smelled like weed or that I was too rough or whatever excuse she’d usually give to get away. Tonight I felt her settle against my chest like she was relishing it. Like maybe she missed me, too. Even though it could never be as much as I’d missed her.

But then I made the stupid-ass move of finding her scar. What a douche bag. It probably reminded her of how broken she once was, when all I wanted to do was help her remember that we were connected. Shit.

I needed to find her and apologize. Tell her I didn’t mean anything by it. That I didn’t want her to run away from me. I was probably still such a fuckup in her eyes. I was the guy who’d gotten kicked out of my internship in Amsterdam after Johan’s too-young-for-him girlfriend came on to me. Returning to my father’s disapproving gaze sucked big time, but finding out Rachel had returned as well almost made the whole thing worth it.

I headed back outside and heard the low rumble of a hot rod pulling up to the field in back. I looked over my shoulder at the sweet blue ride with gleaming silver tail pipes. My gaze slid to the driver’s side and my whole body tensed. And just like that, I knew I was meant to be Rachel’s friend tonight more than anything else. She was going to need me.

Because Miles had fucking wrecked her and now he was here to screw with her again.

I stormed through the crowd, pushing past people to search for her. Julia tried to reach for my arm, but I shrugged her off. I was pretty sure she only wanted to drag me into the woods to hook up for old times’ sake.

I rounded the bonfire and slowed my steps as I spotted Rachel near the wooden fence in the back of the lot. With her jaw set and her fists clenched tight, she looked fierce. Determined. On fire.

I realized that she’d done pretty well without me the past few years.

Maybe she didn’t need me to protect her anymore. Not when it came to him.

She could probably kick his ass all on her own. And maybe mine, too.