Текст книги "Believe"

Автор книги: Erin McCarthy

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

But when I got back to her place to drop her car off and walk home, I went inside for some sick, masochistic reason. I headed straight toward the oil paintings she had been working on. Flipping through them one at a time, I saw the dark emotions she had clearly been pushing out through her art.

I lay on the bed—our bed—and stared at the ceiling, remembering the way she had looked at me on my birthday and the first time we’d had sex, her eyes all soft and warm.

Then I stole a picture of us smiling for the camera that she had printed and tucked into the mirror on the door and I left.

* * *

Four days. Four whole days went by and I didn’t hear a single word from her.

I didn’t text or call her either, but I was just doing what she asked me to do. Giving her space.

Space sucked.

It sucked hard.

I was going crazy, the days endless, the nights worse. I slept on my cousins’ couch, or pretended to sleep. Mostly I lay there, thoughts turning in a whirlpool in my mind, wondering what I was supposed to do. Wondering whose idea of a joke this bullshit was. Hadn’t I been handed enough crap in life? Now I had to love someone only to have her fade out of my life?

No. It was just bull-fucking-shit.

“You could call her,” Tyler said to me Thursday night as I sat watching TV with Jayden, and he saw me check my phone for the seven hundredth time.

“Mind your own business.”

Tyler made a face at me. “Fine. Be miserable.”

Rory and Jessica were in the kitchen, and I had purposely avoiding asking them about Robin. I didn’t even know if either of them had talked to her. It felt too much like begging to ask them about her.

“I will, thanks.” I was. I was dying to know how Robin was. If she had told her parents the truth. If she was physically feeling better. If she were missing classes. If she hated my face.

My hands were swollen and bruised, scabbing over, from all the boxing I had been doing in the basement. I had been tempted to go over Nathan’s car a second time, but I had resisted. He had shown up to get it on Monday but he hadn’t come into the house and he hadn’t said anything about the condition to Tyler. I figured he was waiting for the right time to get even with me. Whatever. He was an idiot if he didn’t realize I would enjoy it. I didn’t even feel bad that I had put Tyler in an awkward position. His friend was an asshole, end of story.

“She’s coming back tomorrow. Rory told me.”

Then I should probably stop sneaking over to her apartment and stealing random shit and lying on her bed. It was weird, and I knew it was weird, but it made me feel close to her. In one moment of weakness I had even left a card for her on her dresser, and now it was too late to get it back. I mean, seriously, a greeting card? I had never bought one in my entire life and, first of all, was shocked to see they cost like three bucks, but secondly, it was absolutely cheesedick of me. Lame.

It was also too late to give back the painting I’d lifted, the one of the lighthouse, its spotlight cutting across a choppy sea. Or the perfume that she always wore that I didn’t even like. I had them stashed in Jayden and Easton’s room because they would ask the least questions. Though I did have a sneaking suspicion Jayden had used the perfume himself because he was smelling a little floral.

“Glad to hear it,” I said evenly. “She must be feeling better. How is Kylie?”

Tyler shook his head. “Kylie is a hot mess. Nathan is blowing up her phone with apologies.”

I snorted.

“He knows he fucked up and he’s hurting,” Tyler said. “You know he’s going to come after you to take out some of that anger.”

I shrugged. “I can out-anger him any day of the week.”

“I know. That’s what scares me.”

The front door opened, and I glanced over to see my mother walk in the door. Shit. Now? This was when she chose to finally make an appearance? Worst timing ever.

“Hey, Phoenix, I need to talk to you,” she said.

Of course she did. I was definitely not in the mood for a little mother-son chat. “Hey, Mom, so nice to see you for the first time in six months. I’m good, thanks for asking.”

She frowned. “Don’t be a smart-ass.”

Notorious for wearing clothes that were two sizes too small and twenty years too young for her, she was wearing denim acid-washed shorts and a tank that made it very obvious she did not have a bra on. Jesus Christ. I wanted to sigh. In fact, I think I actually did.

“Hi, Aunt Jackie,” Easton said from where he was rolling around on the floor for no apparent reason.

“Hey, brat,” she said, tickling his ribs with her toes.

Yep, she was barefoot.

“How did you know I’d be here?” I asked, not moving from the couch.

“Where else would you be? You ain’t got a pot to pee in, and I know you don’t want to live with that twat girlfriend of yours.”

That made me sit up straighter. “Do not call Robin a twat,” I said. “Seriously, Mom, don’t go there with me.”

“Robin?” She looked surprised. “Who the hell is Robin? I was talking about that slut Angel.”

“Oh.” I relaxed back. “We broke up while I was inside. But don’t say that about her either. It’s not nice.”

“It’s not nice,” she mimicked, making a face. “God, you’re such a pussy.”

That did it. I just said, very, very calmly, “Get out. Get out of this house. Right. Now.”

But she scoffed. “You can’t throw me out of Dawn’s house.”

“I can,” Tyler said. “Now show a little respect or you can leave. You haven’t seen Phoenix even once since he got out and you walk in here calling him names? It’s bullshit, Jackie.”

Wow. Cousin was sticking up for me. I was surprised to realize how much I needed that, someone to be on my side.

“God, why is everyone being so sensitive?” she complained, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.

“You can’t smoke in the house,” Tyler told her.

“What?” For a second I thought she was going to argue, but she just gave a huff of exasperation and stormed to the kitchen, presumably to go out the back door.

I jumped up to follow, well aware that Jessica and Rory were in the kitchen and did not deserve to have to deal with her. She had stopped short in the doorway. “Who the hell are you?” she asked them, even though I knew they had both been at my aunt’s funeral. She clearly didn’t remember meeting them.

“Mom, this is Jessica and Rory, Riley’s and Tyler’s girlfriends. This is my mom, Jackie.” I was more than a little mortified having to do introductions because I knew whatever my mother said, it would not be nice or classy.

And she didn’t disappoint as they murmured greetings, both pasting on a smile. “Damn. My nephews have expensive taste.” She glanced at me. “How about you? Where is your girlfriend, this Robin you were so defensive about? She got money?”

I could see the predatory gleam in her eyes. “No. She’s at her parents.” I held the back door open. “Come outside so you can have a cigarette. I’ll sit with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Lucky me.”

But I didn’t say anything. I just held the door open for her until she passed through. I saw the pity on Rory’s and Jessica’s faces and I felt the familiar sense of shame that I always did when people felt sorry for me.

The sun was high, hitting me right in the eyes as I sat on the top of the picnic table and my mom sat next to me. When her hand shook as she tried to light her cigarette, I took the lighter and held it for her.

She blew out some smoke with a sigh. “Thanks.” Lifting her hands to gather her heavy and bleached hair up into a ponytail, I caught sight of the scars on her stomach.

I took the edge of her shirt and lifted it further to see for myself what that asshole had done to her. The lines were white slashes on her flesh, as he had tried to write “Iggy” but was mostly unsuccessful. I made a sound in the back of my throat. “Did they heal okay?”

“What?” She glanced down. “Oh, yeah, it was fine. Looks like shit but whatever. My stripper days are over anyway.”

I actually laughed. “Well, there you go, Mom, always looking on the bright side.”

She grinned, and I saw she had lost a tooth slightly to the right of her front teeth. “I missed you, Phoenix,” she said. “I know you don’t believe me, but I did.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything.

“You serious about this girl?” she asked, taking a drag. “What’s she look like?”

I lifted my shirt to show her my tattoo. “Like this.”

She gave a low whistle. “Damn, I guess you are serious. She’s pretty.”

“I know. But we may have broken up.”

“What? Why?”

“She got super drunk and I got super pissed.”

I expected her to tell me I was stupid and what was the harm with a little drinking, but she didn’t. She just nodded. “You know I have to tell you something.”

Oh, God. I braced myself for something horrible. “Do I want to know this?”

“Sure. It’s nothing bad. I just wanted to tell you that I lied to you about your father. He wasn’t just some guy I went out with a few times. I was in love with him. The only man I’ve ever loved.”

“Really?” She had always told me that my dad was a loser but he’d been awesome in bed. Which is, of course, what every guy wants to hear his mother say. Not.

“Really.” She picked at a scab on her knee, her fingernail polish chipped, a shocking pink color. “But he couldn’t deal with me drinking and using. He turned his back on me when I needed him the most. Not that I’m saying he could have stopped me from doing what I was doing, but I needed to know he believed in me, you know?”

There was a lump in my throat that threatened to cut off my airway. She was trying to tell me that I needed to be supportive of Robin. My first instinct was to feel defensive and to resent that she would have the nerve to offer me advice. But I knew for her to be serious about something instead of joking around or being bitchy, she must really think it was important. And I knew, deep down, that she was right. Robin’s problems were mine, too, no matter how much I wanted to walk away, because I loved her. And I should try to help her, not run scared. Was I perfect? Obviously not. So I damn well couldn’t expect her to be.

“I don’t blame him for leaving. He had to do what was right for him, but I can’t say that I’ve ever really gotten over it. I fucked up by picking the drugs over him, but he just walked away and damn, that was painful, sending me straight for more drugs. So I always just chose shitty guys because I know they’re shitty. No chance for me to be hurt when they leave.”

I nodded. “You do choose shitty men.”

She laughed and nudged with me her knee. “Shut up. But maybe that’s why I wasn’t the best mother either. I didn’t want to love you too much. But I couldn’t help myself. I did anyways. You came out of the happiest time in my life.”

Now I really didn’t know what to say. “I love you, too.” I did. How could I not? She was my mother.

“You were a cute baby, you know. Born with all that dark hair. Big old eyes. You’d be so quiet and calm and then bam! You’d just start screaming.”

Apparently not much had changed.

“So you ever talk to my father after he left?” There was something nice to be said about knowing they had cared about each other, that I wasn’t just the result of a blind grope in a dark room.

“No. I saw him once at a biker bar. He was always into bikes. But I freaked out and ran away before he saw me.” She shrugged. “It sucks to spend your life loving someone and not being with them. Don’t do that. If you love her, fight for it, you know?”

“Yeah.” I did. She was right. It wouldn’t be easy, but what was? I loved Robin.

“Now stop making me all sentimental,” she said. “Say something dickish so I feel normal again.”

I reached out and flicked her cigarette with my finger and thumb, sending it sailing into the yard. “Quit smoking.” I grinned as she sputtered. “How was that?”

“Turd.”

But when I wrapped my arm around her in a semi-hug, she actually leaned into my touch.

And for the first time in a decade, I felt like she was a mom, not just the woman who had given birth to me.

Bonus.

Chapter Eighteen
Robin

I stood in the shower as long as I could stand, the water pouring over my face in a hot stream, washing away my tears and the tangy ripe odor of sweat and liquor and vomit. If only I could wash away my guilt and my confusion.

It seemed no matter what I did, I felt guilty. I worried about hurting everyone, my friends, my parents. Phoenix.

And invariably, what I did was hurt all of them, and me too.

Phoenix’s face had been terrible. I knew then, right when he said that I couldn’t hurt him, that I had. That I had hurt him like his mother had, that she was the inspiration behind his bleeding tattoo, and now I had added to that pain.

But I couldn’t deal with my own pain and guilt, and I definitely couldn’t deal with his anger. Not right now.

Leaning against the shower wall for support, my legs still rubbery, I dozed in and out of sleep, dreaming, or maybe daydreaming, I wasn’t entirely sure.

But in my head, I climbed aboard the rowboat I had painted, and rowed myself to the empty lighthouse in the midst of the stormy sea, and I stood on the rocks, waves crashing into me. It was cold and damp and lonely on my perch, the lights of land across the water winking at me in welcome. But I couldn’t cross back. I didn’t have the strength to row back from where I had come. So it was just me.

The knock on the bathroom door startled me, and I jerked awake, alert. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” my mother called.

No. “Yes.”

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“In a sec.” Turning off the water, I shivered, goose bumps rising on my flesh. My mother had brought me an old terry cloth robe to wear, and after a cursory drying off, I wrapped myself in it. “Okay.”

She opened the door and gave me a smile. “I bet that wore you out.”

“It did.” Our house had been built in the seventies, and the hall bathroom had never been remodeled. It was still full of dark wood and lots of gold accents, and there was a little cutout for a vanity chair, which had been the same brass stool my entire life. I sank down onto it now, my lungs straining, the air too humid to breathe properly, hands still trembling. I was starting to worry that was a permanent thing, that weird little jitter to my fingers.

My mother came behind me and took the towel off the floor and dried my hair for me, her touch gentle. It felt so good to have her take care of me, like I was a little girl again, comforting me after my brothers had picked on me mercilessly. She picked up a brush and started to go through my hair, detangling the snarls that had been made as I had done who knew what in my incoherent state.

Suddenly, watching her in the mirror in front of me, the full impact of what had happened hit me and I started crying again. I could have died. Never, ever, in any way, had I ever been suicidal. I didn’t want to die. At all. Ever, frankly. I sure in the hell didn’t want to die now. But I could have, and it would have been my fault, and I would have caused my parents massive pain.

Phoenix had every right to be angry with me.

I was angry with myself.

“Robin. What’s going on?” my mother asked quietly. “Does this have anything to do with Phoenix? I have to admit, he wasn’t what I was expecting. He’s not the usual type of boy you date.”

“No, he’s not,” I said, voice tight with my tears. “Mom, I have to tell you something, and it’s not good.”

Keeping secrets hadn’t done anything good for me, and I realized that even if it meant my parents would be profoundly disappointed in me, I needed to be honest with them. I couldn’t do this by myself. Facing the truth was going to be hard, but hiding from it was worse.

“Yes? You know you can tell me anything. Are you pregnant?” she asked gently.

Ironically, something that would have given me a heart attack back in high school now seemed like the least horrible thing to have happening. Being pregnant would be way less frightening than being an alcoholic.

Still watching her in the mirror, her fingers smoothing over my now fully brushed hair, I told her, “No. I’m not pregnant. I don’t have the flu. I ended up in the ER last night with blood alcohol poisoning.”

Her fingers stilled. “Oh my God, baby. And you’re okay, the doctors said you’re okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine. Phoenix and Rory called 911.”

She made the sign of the cross. “Thank you, Jesus.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said. “It was an accident. I was upset and I drank more than I should have.”

Her face had lost color, and I could see her searching for the right thing to say. “Do you drink more than you should often?”

I shook my head. “I did. But not any more. Phoenix doesn’t drink at all, and he’s really mad at me. I scared him. I scared myself.”

Her arms came down around me, and she gave me a hard hug, her lips brushing over my hair.

And I cried, because I had disappointed everyone who mattered to me. Most of all I had disappointed myself.

* * *

I wanted to text Phoenix. A hundred times I started, and a hundred times I deleted what I was writing.

The truth was, he deserved more than a text message apology. I needed to say it in person. I needed to look him in the eye and tell him that I understood why he reacted the way he had and that I was sorry I had scared him.

For three days I slept and sat out on the back deck in the sun and thought. About me, about my future, about who I was. I cooked with my mother and I sketched and I did research on my mom’s laptop, looking at the options my parents presented me for alcohol counseling. There was one program where you went every day for three hours for a week, then once a week for three months. I thought I could do that, actually wanted to do that. I didn’t think I was going to repeat the vodka disaster, but why not make sure? Phoenix was right—I needed to know how to handle a crisis without escaping into alcohol.

I looked at rental apartments, and I looked at art programs. I didn’t want to be a graphic designer. I didn’t want to sit in a cubicle and click my mouse in design software. I wanted to be outside, painting in the park.

With Phoenix.

Alone with the trees ruffling their leaves, the first hint of fall in the air as I heard the high school marching band practicing two blocks away, I ran my finger over my bluebird tattoo.

Then I sent three texts to three different people. All three said the same thing.

Can I see you today?

* * *

Kylie was the only one in the apartment when my mom dropped me off, giving me three hugs before she would let me leave the car. In the kitchen, Kylie leaned against the counter in a defensive posture, her expression stony.

“Hey,” I said, softly. “Thanks for meeting me. I just wanted to say in person that I’m sorry. Really, truly sorry.”

“I honestly don’t have anything to say, Robin. I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know. I don’t really know what to say either, other than that if I been sober, I never would have done what I did. It’s no excuse, but I care about you and I never, ever wanted to hurt you.” There was no apology in the world that was going to fix what I had done, but I needed to at least offer it.

She nodded. “Okay, thanks for saying that. But I can’t promise that I will forgive you. I just need time.” There were suddenly tears in her eyes. “I’m not in a good place.”

“I know,” I whispered, tears coming to my eyes as well. “Me either. If you want to stay here in the apartment, I can move back to my parents. Just let me know.”

Kylie bit her lip. “Remember our first semester at college? We were all so excited for the freedom, and we were all so sure we had everything figured out . . . now I know we don’t know anything. Nothing makes sense. I want to be stupidly naive again.”

I totally understood where she was coming from.

But the truth was, I didn’t want to go backward. Only forward.

“Well, just learn from me . . . alcohol is not the answer.”

“I just can’t believe how much I misjudged Nathan. You could see the texts he’s sent me. He’s so cruel.”

No clue what to say, I just did what made sense to me, not caring if she rejected my gesture or not. I just wanted her to know I cared that she was hurting, so I reached out and hugged her.

Kylie hugged me back.

* * *

In my room, I found an envelope with Phoenix’s bold and stylistic handwriting on it. Robin.

Inside was a card with a couple in their eighties laughing on a park bench, holding hands. He had labeled them. You. Me.

The greeting card had been left blank on the inside, but Phoenix had written his own simple message. I miss you. I love you.

Clutching the card to my chest, I lay on my bed, tears rolling down my cheeks to fall on the comforter.

My pillow smelled like him.

* * *

Nathan opened the door and gave me a cocky look. “Unless you’re here to suck my dick, I have nothing to say to you.”

I stood in the doorway and took a certain amount of pleasure in the black eye he was sporting. Compliments of Phoenix, I had to assume.

“Sorry, no,” I said. “But I’m sure there are plenty of girls with low self-esteem who you can take advantage of.”

He snorted. “What do you want, Robin? I thought we had fun and then you go and tell Kylie and your boyfriend trashes my car. You are not my favorite person right now.”

“I never meant to tell Kylie. I never wanted to hurt her. She found your texts on my phone.” I had expected his anger, and I was prepared for it. I had just wanted to face him one last time and tell him exactly what I thought of him and his dickheadedness. “We made a mistake but you made it worse. You don’t deserve Kylie.”

“Yeah, well, you do deserve Phoenix. Go off and be losers together.”

Oh, he was a fine one to talk. But it didn’t really bother me. It was what I expected. “I will, thanks.” I gave him a sweet smile. “But stop texting Kylie hateful things or I will do to your balls what Phoenix did to your car.”

That seemed to catch him off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You can say whatever you want to me, call me any nasty name you can think of, but leave Kylie the hell alone. Now.” I threw the plastic grocery bag in my hand on the floor at his feet, enjoying how appalled he looked. “And here’s the last of your crap from Kylie. She says to tell you to go to hell.”

I turned and walked away, calling over my shoulder, “And I’d like to add, fuck off.”

Damn, that felt good. Instead of hiding out, I was standing tall. Saying exactly what I felt. Defending a friend who I had hurt tremendously.

Nathan just slammed the door shut without a word.

That’s right. I was done with him.

Just one last stop to make.

* * *

The minute I pulled into the driveway and saw Davis on the front step, I should have backed out immediately. But I didn’t have the finely tuned sense of self-preservation that Phoenix and his cousins had. Totally the opposite. My first thought actually was that maybe Davis knew where Phoenix was, because he hadn’t answered my text.

But when he stood up and greeted me with a smile that was nothing like the casual friendliness he’d shown in the park, I felt a tremor of fear. “Where’s Phoenix?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit. Come in the house and let’s talk about it.” He opened the front door, making me wonder if Tyler and Riley had really left it unlocked or if he had picked the lock.

There was no way I was going in the house with him. “Sorry, I have to get to work. I’ll let Phoenix know you’re looking for him.” Maybe if I were polite, friendly, if I acted like I didn’t know anything was wrong, I could just retreat and call Jessica and let her know not to go home without Riley.

But Davis grabbed my wrist so hard I gasped. “Get in the fucking house,” he said, and I saw in his other hand he had a knife.

Oh my God. I started to sweat, my fingers shaking. I couldn’t think, had no idea what to do. I should kick him or hit him or scream. But I knew that none of the neighbors would come to my aid and he was twice my size. I was fragile, I knew that.

He couldn’t really want to hurt me. He probably wanted money, or drugs, or both.

Which proved again how naive I was.

He dragged me into the house and shut the door, and when I looked at the cold anger in his eyes, I realized that he could kill me. He could kill me without thinking twice about it, and I felt the fear that Phoenix must have felt when he saw me unconscious. I finally understood what that had done to him, because for the first time, I wasn’t looking backward at a close call, I was staring into the face of my mortality, and it was terrifying.

“What do you want?” I asked, amazed that I found the courage to speak.

He had placed himself between me and the door, but I took a few steps toward the kitchen, keeping my eyes on him. I was wearing a sundress and I wasn’t sure how fast I could run in it, but I was going to try to make a break for the back door. It would be better than going down without a fight.

He grinned. “Don’t worry, I don’t want you. You’re too bony for my taste, so as much as I might enjoy sharing a woman with Sullivan, it ain’t going to be you.”

Ridiculous to be proud of the fact that he didn’t hurt my feelings, but I was. His opinion of me didn’t matter in the slightest, and I was hugely relieved that he had no intention of raping me.

“I’m not sorry to hear that,” I told him.

He laughed. “Look, I just need someone to pick up a package for me, that’s all. You’ve got a car, and no one will notice you because a lot of students live in the building. Just go and ring the doorbell and take the package, and hand them the cash I give you.”

So he wanted me to pick up his drugs for him.

“Then you’ll consider you and Phoenix even?”

He nodded. “Totally. I can’t go myself. The neighbors know who I am, and someone might call the cops.”

Which meant that they might call the cops on me. “What if I get caught?”

“Rat me out.” He shrugged. “You’re not going to get caught. Put on your backpack or whatever and act normal. Look, there’s a thousand bucks riding on this. Do this and I’ll disappear, I guarantee it.”

This was so illegal. This was the end of my life as I knew it if I got busted. But I knew it was safer for me to do it than Phoenix. Not to mention his personal feelings about drugs. It would go against everything in him to run drugs for Davis, and most likely what would happen was they would wind up in a fistfight. And while Phoenix certainly had rage and a fair amount of skill, Davis was huge. I doubted that Phoenix would come out of it unscathed.

So I had to do it.

I was never brave.

For once I needed to be brave.

If I expected Phoenix to have my back, I had to have his, right?

But this was illegal. So wrong. Phoenix wouldn’t want me to do this. “What if I say no?”

He shook his head slowly. “You don’t want to say no, trust me.”

My heart was racing, and I felt sick to my stomach, but I knew this was too risky. Either way it was risky, so it was better to take the legal risky route. “Yes,” I told him. “Yes, I do.”

He took a step forward, the knife in his hand, and I was pulling out my phone, dialing 911 already when the front door opened.

It was Tyler, Phoenix, Riley, and Rory. It took the guys all of three seconds to assess the situation.

“Go,” Tyler said to Rory, shoving her back out the front door while shielding her with his body. “Lock the car until Robin comes out, then go.”

I was already bolting toward the kitchen, knowing full well Davis would reach for me, which he did. But I was fast, or maybe too scrawny, because only his fingertips touched my arm. Or maybe Phoenix or Riley pulled him backward. I didn’t turn around to look, I just ran.

But I did hear Phoenix say to him, “If you ever come near my girlfriend I will fucking kill you with my bare hands, you know I will.”

A shiver slipped up my spine. Once I was in the driveway, I finally let out the breath I was holding and got in the car with Rory. “Who was that?” she asked, looking scared.

“Drug dealer. Drive around the block. Do you think we should call the cops?”

“I don’t think the guys would like that. Easton, you know, the custody. Did he have a gun?”

“Not that I saw.” Rory cruised down the street, but she was already using voice command to call Tyler. He didn’t answer.

Suddenly feeling like I was going to throw up, I stuck my head between my legs. “I don’t think I handled that very well,” I told her, my words muffled from the fabric of my dress.

“I think you handled it better than I would have. I would have peed my pants.” Her phone rang, and she answered it. “Are you all okay?” Relief crossed her face. “Okay, good. We’ll be back in a minute.”

She hung up. “Everything is okay. They’re all fine and Davis left. He knew he was outnumbered. Phoenix wants you to meet him at the park in half an hour.”

* * *

I expected it to be awkward when I saw Phoenix. I had been shut down physically and emotionally when he left my parents’, and we hadn’t exactly had the best conversation. I also knew he would be feeling guilty about Davis.

But when I pulled into the parking lot at the park, he was sitting on a bench already waiting for me, hair in his eyes, arm tossed carelessly over the back. His eyes were closed, like he was enjoying the sun, and any nerves I had evaporated.

God, I loved him. I looked at him, and it just made my heart ache.

When I stepped out of the car, he was already standing, and he came toward me, steady, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He was wearing one of the band shirts I had given him for his birthday.

Without saying a word to me, he just cupped my face with his hands and kissed me. It was a deep, intense kiss, his tongue sliding across my bottom lip, his breath hot and sweet. His fingers were rough and callused on my skin, but his touch was gentle, worshipful, his kiss everything I could have hoped for and more.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said in echo. “I shouldn’t have left like that. I was an asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have screamed at you. You’re right, I was shutting down.” I snaked my arms around his waist and leaned into the familiar feel of him, taking in his masculine scent, the warmth of his shirt from the sun, the muscles in his thighs against me.

“Come here,” he said, pulling me to the bench, and onto his lap. “God, when I saw you with Davis . . . I’m sorry. I never thought that he would find you.”