Текст книги "The Singles"
Автор книги: Emily Snow
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Текущая страница: 30 (всего у книги 45 страниц)
Chapter Nineteen
“Jesus, kid, you’re getting tall,” I say. I close my arms around the girl clinging to my waist and hold her close. “Next year, you’ll be my height.”
Pulling away from me, she makes a face, and I screw my own into a dramatic pout. We both hold the looks for a long time before she gives up and laughter bubbles from her chest. I’m too nervous to laugh, so I manage a little smile as I tuck a lock of her dark blonde hair behind her ear.
“You’re just fun-sized,” Brenna says. She glances over at Wyatt, who hasn’t moved since she came sprinting into the foyer. “You said Kylie was gone on vacation, Dad.”
He lifts his shoulders slightly, and his eyes search my face, waiting for me to have some type of reaction toward him. “Guess she came back early.”
Brenna beams up at me. “Did you have fun?”
I fold my arms across my stomach, holding myself together. “It was...” I search for the right word, but it doesn’t come to me. I lift my eyes, finally meeting Wyatt’s deep stare head-on. “I’m glad to be home.”
She bobs her head up and down, grabbing my hand to lead me into Wyatt’s living room. Knocking a couple of PlayStation 3 controllers aside, she motions for me to sit beside her on the tan leather couch. Since I’ve never been able to say no to Brenna, I comply. “So, where all did you go?” she demands.
“New Orleans.”
“Lots of good food?”
“Are you kidding? Some of the best.” I catch Wyatt’s blue eyes as he eases down onto the matching loveseat across from us. I wonder if Brenna knows he was in New Orleans with me for a short period of time, but when he gives me a slight shake of his head, I figure he hasn’t told her. “Your dad will have to take you there some day.”
She looks at him expectantly, and he gives her a halfhearted grin. Returning her attention to me, she proudly declares, “Mom’s planning on taking me to Orlando this summer while Dad’s on tour.”
“You going to ride the teacups until you get sick?” I tease.
She wrinkles her nose. “I’m too old for that. I do get to go and see Hog—”
“Baby,” Wyatt says softly, cutting off Brenna. She lifts her eyebrows impatiently, waiting for him to continue. Wearing that tender smile he’s always reserved exclusively for her, he comes across the room to kneel down in front of us. “Kylie and I need to talk right now. Can you go in your room for a little bit?”
She presses her small lips together and starts to shake her head. Then, she reconsiders, and a slow grin that looks just like his builds on her face. “Pizza for dinner? And then you help me beat that level in my game?”
He groans, moving his head from side to side, as he contemplates her offer. “Deal,” he says, surprising both Brenna and me. He’s never been a fan of pizza or video games. “Give me twenty minutes, okay?”
Wearing a look of sheer satisfaction, she leaves the room, and I watch her disappear down the hallway until she closes the door to her bedroom. I rub the pad of my thumb over the first blackbird tattoo, which is located a few inches over my left breast. I got it after Wyatt had confessed to getting a one-night stand pregnant. He’d met her a few months after we’d first made love in that hotel in Livingston, and even though we hadn’t been a couple and we’d agreed that we weren’t seeking a relationship, finding out that he had a baby on the way stung so much that I didn’t speak to him for months.
I didn’t actually meet Brenna until a couple of months after he had come looking for me once I had divorced Brad. Seeing her in person made me instantly regret that first tattoo. Brenna wasn’t one of the letdowns over the last several years.
She’s a piece of him that I’ve always loved fiercely.
“She’s an amazing kid,” I murmur, rubbing my hand across my chest.
As he slides down beside me on the couch, I drop my eyes to his hands. They’re in his lap, clenched, and I can almost guess he’s wondering why I’m here. “I’m not sure what to say, Ky.” His midnight blue eyes skim over my face, as if he’s trying to read my expression. “I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”
Because I’m not ready to touch what happened in Phoenix quite yet, I change the subject quickly. “Courtney dropping her off for the night?” I ask, referring to Brenna’s mother.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Courtney’s taking a vacation with her new boyfriend. She’ll be back in a few weeks.”
I frown because I know that the obvious irritation in his voice doesn’t stem from jealousy or not wanting to take care of Brenna—he adores that kid. I’m almost one hundred percent sure he’s frustrated with Courtney because of the way his own mother left him when he was a kid. His bitterness over those memories is one of the reasons why he’s always been such a huge part of Brenna’s life. “I’m glad I got to see her. I’ve missed her,” I say, staring in the direction of the hallway. I can hear music blasting from Brenna’s room, some bubblegum boy band. “I’m surprised you even let her listen to that while she’s here,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood, and he laughs.
“You’re all she’s talked about since she came here. She’s missed you.” He lifts his hands, dragging them through his blond hair. “Fuck, I miss you, Ky.”
“It’s only been eleven days,” I point out, my voice shaking.
“That wasn’t eleven days, not when I’ve spent them thinking you were gone, Kylie. That was fucking agony.”
I stand, clenching my hands together, as I pace in front of the big screen TV. “I didn’t plan to come here, McCrae. I was more than done with you because you lied to me, and then...” My chest tightens up, and I take a deep breath, staring at his bare feet, as he gets up and comes to me.
When he touches my shoulders, I shiver. “So, what changed?” He glides his hands up, so that he can tilt my chin, and I’m forced to meet him eye-to-eye.
“I checked my home voice mail, and message after message was from you. You said things that I’ve only imagined you saying.”
“And so you came here?”
I laugh, but it sounds more like a hysterical gasp. “No. I rearranged my apartment. I wrote a bunch of letters to Sinjin. I played my guitar. Finally, my mother called—”
He stops me from continuing, pressing his rough thumbs to my lips, as the rest of his fingers massage the sides of my face. “Thought you forgot how to play,” he says in a low voice. “At least, that’s what you said back in Albuquerque.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’d never forget.”
He releases a deep exhale, crushing me to his chest. “Everything that I said in those messages? I meant every goddamn word. For you and that kid in there...” He points in the direction of Brenna’s bedroom. “I’d do anything. I’d give up the music and the lifestyle if you asked me to.”
A bitter ache spreads across the center of my chest. “I would never ask you to do that. You know that, don’t you? I would never make you choose between me and what you love.”
“You are what I love, Ky.” Dropping his hands to my shoulders, he continues. “I don’t know what you want from this anymore, but I know what I need. You. And don’t try to bullshit me into thinking that you don’t need me, too. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”
“It’s not that simple,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I don’t believe that for a second.” His voice, eyes, and even his touch are slowly breaking my heart. “All I know is that you’re all I think about. I can’t not have you in my life because you and Brenna are the only two people who give a shit about me.”
“Still doesn’t make it simple, babe.” Dragging my palm across the center of my chest, I close my eyes. “I was stupid for thinking that I could just walk away from us and pretend like the last eight years had never happened. It’s impossible.”
He bends his head, so our lips are practically touching. “Then, we start over and fix things.”
“It won’t be easy, and it sure as hell won’t be quick,” I point out.
He shrugs. “Nothing worthwhile ever is.” As I take a second to digest what he just said, he inches his mouth a little closer. His piercing touches my bottom lip, sending a ripple of pleasure through me. “I fucking love you, Ky. That’s about all I need to know. We can work through all the other shit as long as we have that.”
Even though he’s said it before, both in the messages he left for me and on the night we argued in Phoenix, hearing him tell me that he loves me now takes my breath away. Somehow, I manage to force my voice to sound confident when I respond. “I love you, too.” So much that I’ll put myself out there one last time to see if one four-letter emotion is enough.
His muscular shoulders sag in relief as he drags me closer to him. He kisses me. It’s a simple yet powerful touch that lasts no longer than ten seconds. “I’m not perfect, Ky. I’ll never be because I’m fucked-up, but I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“I know you don’t,” I say. Ignoring the nervous fluttering in the pit of my stomach, I circle my arms around him tighter, losing myself in the way he holds me to him.
“Can I come out now?” Brenna shrieks from the back over the sound of boy band falsetto.
“Not listening to that you can’t,” he bellows, and she cuts the music abruptly.
“Happy, Dad?”
I can’t help but laugh as I wipe the backs of my hands over my cheeks to get rid of the tears that have started to fall.
“We’re good now,” Wyatt yells back.
Her bedroom door flies open, and she races down the hallway, jumping onto the couch. She ignores Wyatt’s pointed frown and eyes me suspiciously. “Is everything okay?”
I glance at Wyatt and then to her. “It’s going to be.”
“Are you staying for dinner?”
“If your dad is paying.”
We both focus our gazes—her blue eyes and my brown—on Wyatt until he nods his head. “But we order in tonight,” he says, and she suppresses a groan. “And no making Kylie play that fuc—”
“Dad!” she says sharply.
He groans. “Your video game.”
***
Much later in the evening, after Brenna falls asleep on the floor playing her video game, Wyatt goes to the back room. He returns a few minutes later, holding two guitars, and then he extends one out to me. At first, I start to decline since Brenna’s only a few feet away, but he places the Fender in my lap. Taking my hands in his, he wraps my fingertips around the neck of the custom black guitar.
He sits across the room from me on the loveseat, gripping his guitar, and a tiny smile builds on my lips when he strums the opening of “Send the Pain Below.” It’s one of those songs that I’ll never forget, that will always have a special meaning for me, but it seems so wrong when we’re supposed to be trying again.
Grabbing my pick off the side table, I start playing a new song. He pauses, and it takes him a moment to figure out the chords I’m struggling to strum through. Even though he doesn’t know it well because he’s never been an Incubus fan, he catches on quickly as we pick through the song about love surviving the bad things.
When we reach the last line of the song, I can’t help but sing along softly. “Without love, I won’t survive.”
His eyes never leave mine, and I think about our bad times and our good. I’m hopeful that, this time, things will work, so we can make new memories that won’t hurt so damn much.
Still, I savor every part of our past.
-The End of Savor You-
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much to my readers—to YOU—for being so amazing. Your enthusiasm and support for my books amaze me on a daily basis, and I feel so blessed to have you. Thank you for all the emails, reviews, and Facebook messages. You rock my world!
To Kelli Maine, Michelle Valentine, and Kristen Proby—You ladies constantly brighten my day, putting up with my randomness and making me laugh. I love you girls like a love song, and I can’t WAIT to rock Vegas with you all! :)
Christine Bezdenejnih Estevez, you are one amazing chick! Thank you for keeping me organized and for loving my books. BIG HUGS for everything you do (and it’s a lot)!
To Rebecca, my ass-kicking agent—Thank you for all your wisdom and support. You keep me sane!
To Jovana Shirley with Unforeseen Editing—You are so incredibly talented! Thank you for taking Savor You and marking it up with your red pen of greatness. I’m so grateful for all your insight and suggestions!
Thank you to my early readers: Lisa Kane, Lisa Rutledge, Tracey Kruger, Dawn Martens, Aimee Pachorek, Lourdes Sanchez, America Matthew, Kim Person, Stacy Kestwick and Jennifer Wolfel. I appreciate you ladies so much for taking the time to read over my pages and for giving me insight. Your opinions are invaluable to me.
Thanks to Letitia Hasser at RBA Designs for creating such a beautiful book cover. Your artwork brings Kylie to life!
To Cris Hadarly, Becca Manuel, and Abbie Dauenheimer—Thank you ladies a million times for being so effing creative. I love the trailers and collages, and I smile like an idiot every time I look at them.
To the bloggers in the romance community—THANK YOU! Your support and love for my books mean so much to me. I appreciate you all more than you could ever imagine. Thank you for taking such good care of me and all the other indie authors!
And to my family—You guys rock my socks! (Don’t look at my feet right now because they’re mismatched.) Thanks for encouraging me to follow this dream of mine. I love you guys.
Wrecked
A New Adult Romance By
Emily Snow
Wrecked Copyright
Copyright © 2014 by Emily Snow Books
Cover designed by Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs
ISBN: 9781310410604
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher in writing. For information message [email protected].
Synopsis
Two years ago, Evie’s sister died, leaving her lost. Existing without really living. Coping the only way she knew how: by wrecking things.
Last year, Evie exposed her dad’s affairs, finished ripping apart her relationship with her longtime boyfriend, and completely ruined her music scholarship.
But today, she’s reinventing herself at her new university. Desperate to break away from all the destruction she’s caused, Evie’s ready to start over. For her sister, who never even had a chance. And for herself.
Then Rhys, her new voice instructor, happens.
He’s gorgeous and insanely talented, but he’s also a part of the dark past Evie is trying to overcome. Rhys’s brother is the reason why her life went up in flames, the reason why Lily, Evie's sister, is dead. But even though Rhys is the last person Evie should ever want, for the first time in two years, wrecking things seems...right.
The Playlist
“Hanging On” by Ellie Goulding
“Riverside” by Agnes Obel
“Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus
“Human” by Civil Twilight
“All the Right Moves” by One Republic
“All Falls Down” by Kanye West
“Adolescents” by Incubus
“Delicate” by Damien Rice
“Lovesong” by 311
“Counting Stars” by One Republic
“Mirrors” by Justin Timberlake
“Heartbeat” by The Fray
“Avenue” by Agnes Obel
“Breathe (2 AM)” by Anna Nalick
“Fix Me” by Ten Years
“Yesterday” by The Beatles
“Lonely Boy” by The Black Keys
“The Monster” by Eminem ft. Rihanna
“Heaven Knows” by The Pretty Reckless
“Between the Raindrops” by Lifehouse & Natasha Bedingfield
“Say Something” by A Great Big World
“Slowly Freaking Out” by Skylar Grey
“Stay” by Rihanna & Mikky Ekko
“Don’t Say A Word” by Ellie Goulding
“Everlong” by Foo Fighters
“Under the Milky Way” by Sia
Dedication
To the Your Toxic Sequel Support Group -
You girls kick ass and do Lucas proud everyday.
Thank you for your awesomeness.
Prologue
Two Years Ago
“You sure she won’t figure out I’m here?” my boyfriend, James, murmurs into my ear. His warm, minty breath fans strands of my long chestnut brown hair, coursing a tingle down my spine. Tilting my head, I look back into his gray eyes and notice the flash of pleasure in them because of my visible reaction to him. There’s a definite note of apprehension there, too, thanks to his odd fear of my mom.
She’s too scared to kill a spider, much less come after him with a weapon just because she catches him inside my bedroom. “Evie?” James groans. “I’d hate for her to start shooting at me.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “My mother doesn’t own a gun, but she does keep a butcher knife under her bed.” His blond eyebrows knit together, and I’m sure his head is now full of images of my delicate PTA officer mother going stab-happy with a dull Bed, Bath, & Beyond utensil.
“Evie, this shit’s not funny.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “Calm down. She’s got one of her book club meetings tonight. She’s probably down stairs Googling spoilers so her friends won’t realize she hasn’t picked up a novel in weeks.”
“Until she comes up here.”
Flipping over onto my stomach, I prop myself up on my forearms and give James the most serious look I can muster, which is laced in laughter. “I promise, promise, you’re safe.”
From the skeptical look he’s wearing, he doesn’t fully buy my words, but he forces himself to relax, linking his fingers together behind his head. He lies back on the plush pillows and looks up at me. “Not going to lie, I’m still nervous as hell.” He dips his smooth chin toward the iPod dock on my dresser, which is on the other side of the room. “Maybe you should turn that up a little more. Just in case.”
A laugh rumbles deep in my chest as I push myself up. “You are a big, fat chicken shit.” As I make my way over to the sound system, I swing my hips in rhythm to the Kings of Leon song that’s currently playing. I am definitely not a dancer, but I hear James’ sharp intake of air as he watches my movements.
After I adjust the volume so there’s no way my mom will be able to hear anything other than my “Relaxation” playlist, I spin around to look at him, noting the appreciative glint in his eyes that’s taken precedence over any fear that was there before. “I’ve missed you,” he mouths. “Get over here.”
Without warning, I jump onto the bed beside him, the mattress sinking a little at the sudden motion and my weight. I squeal when James tackles me, drags me beneath his long, lean body, and pins my wrists to the mattress.
“Now who’s being loud?” I demand breathlessly, releasing a soft noise from the back of my throat when his lips lower to mine. After he draws away—much to my disappointment because he hasn’t kissed me like this in almost two weeks—I clear my throat. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at you.”
“What time do you have to be—” But the sound of my phone blaring on the nightstand beside the bed interrupts my thought process. We both turn our heads to where the phone is buzzing fiercely on the antique white wood, and I sigh. “I’m not answering that stupid thing.”
“It might be important.” James’ lips twitch. “But, to answer your question, I told my mom I’d be home by seven. I parked a mile away, so you’ve got me all to yourself for”—he looks at my alarm clock, and cocks his head to the side like he’s calculating how long it will take him to sprint to his car and get home before his mom starts bitching—“another hour and a half.”
When my phone starts vibrating again, he lifts his eyebrows. “You should answer it, might be Lily again. Or your other boyfriend?”
“Don’t care if it is her.” Still, I grab the phone and check the number on the screen. “And I’m too lazy to manage another boyfriend, I can barely keep up with you.” I flash the phone in his face, wiggling it around so he can see the smiling face of one of my friends. “It’s Sophie.”
Letting out a low whistle, he moves his head to each side. “God, you hold a grudge. Hard to believe y’all have been fighting this long. Usually you kiss and make up after a few days.”
He’s referring to the epic fallout I had with my older sister two weeks ago. Honestly, just thinking about it right now pisses me off.
When my mom had woken up in the middle of the night after a bad dream only to find that I was nowhere to be found, she’d automatically confronted Lily. Being the worst liar, a born worrier, and a natural avoider of confrontations, Lily had accidentally revealed that I might be with James. Mom had freaked out, of course, and when I finally made it home shortly after three AM, there was a cop car waiting in our driveway.
Although Dad had only suggested a week without driving privileges, Mom had upped that punishment to a month. Then she’d thrown in a teen pregnancy movie marathon to try to scare the hell out of me along with a strict No James Without Parental Supervision policy for good measure.
Obviously, I’ve managed to get around at least one of those punishments, but since my mother came down on me, I’ve only said a handful of words to my sister.
“I’ll get over it when I get my keys back,” I inform James hotly. When he rolls off of me, I grab the pillow closest to my face and crush it to my chest. His gray eyes search my face until I finally groan. “Okay, I’ll talk to her and apologize tonight. Are you happy now?”
His answer is muffled by the sound of my mom frantically yelling my name from downstairs. “Great,” he whispers harshly, his gaze darting anxiously to the door. “Maybe I should go.” He starts to get up, but I press my palm against his chest, shoving him back down.
“Calm the hell down.” I push myself upright, swing my long legs over the side of the bed and hop off. “If she thought you were in my room she would already be in here telling you what a manwhore you are. Since she’s not, I’m going to run down there before she gets worked up enough to come get me. I probably left an empty Coke can lying around and seeing it set her off.”
Grabbing a stretchy hairband off the nightstand, I fist my brown hair into a high ponytail and pile it on top of my head. “Sit tight, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Once again I dance across my room, winking at James when he gives me another longing look.
“Thanks for being a tease.” He hurls the pillow I was just holding in my direction, but I easily catch it before dropping it in my computer chair. “Hurry back.”
My mood is the best it’s been in weeks as I jog downstairs, grinning and humming Fuel’s “Shimmer,” which I can hear coming from inside my bedroom. That feeling of invincibility, however, takes a backseat when I reach the landing. My mother’s standing at the front door, her shoulders sagging forward and her hand gripping the doorframe for support.
What’s going on?
Curling my bare toes against the hardwood floor, I let my gaze slip past her to stare out toward the early autumn evening. And to come face-to-face with the cop standing on the front porch with a grim look on his weathered face.
I feel my heart lurch. “Mom, what’s going—”
Slowly—so slowly that I have a difficult time managing to breathe while I wait for her—she turns to look at me. This is when I notice that she’s trembling, the yoga body that she’s absolutely proud of shaking so violently I’m surprised she doesn’t tumble over.
“Is everything okay?” I whisper.
But when I squint, I realize she’s crying. I see the tears glistening on her cheeks. Finally hear the soft gasps coming from her parted lips. She lifts her hazel eyes, and as I register how wide and terrified they are, I know something awful has happened. Something that will obliterate me.
Suddenly, all thoughts of James waiting for me upstairs in my bed disappear and gnawing panic sets in.
Oh god.
Oh god.
I try to force my body to move, to finish walking down the stairs to get to my mother, but I’m frozen in place, my legs bogged down by some invisible force.
Fear.
No, terror.
I’m scared to death of whatever it is she’s about to tell me.
“Mom?” I whisper brokenly. I look from her stunned eyes, to her speechless, trembling lips, to the solemn face of the police officer and then back again. “Is it Dad?”
But somehow I know it’s not, even before she tells me in the calmest voice possible that she needs me to give my father a call at the car dealership he owns and tell him to get to the local hospital, NOW.
I know what she says next. The name is already racing through my mind, shattering all my control to bring me crashing to my knees. For some reason, though, I don’t hear her say it because the only sound entering my ears is my erratic breathing and the last thing I said to my sister. “You’ll be fine.”
I was wrong.
