On the flat screen in West’s room, the movie ends and, to be honest, I have no idea what it was about. West watched his fingers tease and explore my body until my skin vibrated and my blood buzzed. I, for the most part, watched West.
I love the serious set of his jaw and the way he’d occasionally run his hand over his golden hair. The biceps in his arm would flex as he moved and, every now and then, his shirt would ride up, exposing his gloriously defined abs.
I’m flat on his bed and West is propped up on his side next to me. His fingers sweep across the plane of my stomach and his deep blue eyes follow an imaginary line like an artist would a paintbrush along a canvas. “You’re the sexiest damn thing. Jesus, your skin is soft.”
West shuts his eyes and I suck in a breath. This is dangerous. Very dangerous. My lips are still swollen from earlier. Kissing West is addictive. It propels me to want to kiss and touch more and travel with him to unknown and hidden places. And I secretly begin to imagine the type of kissing that involves darkness and covers and whispers.
His fingers slip under the already tucked up fabric of my shirt and he gently skims the trim of my bra. Heat explodes throughout my body and my breathing hitches. It’s frightening how I react to one simple caress.
Not good. Not good at all. Actually, it’s very good and I all but purr with his hands on my bare skin, but I need to think. I need air.
Without warning, I go to roll off the bed, but in lightning-fast movements, West captures my waist and draws me back to him. “Where are you going?”
“You’re going to kiss me again,” I say a little breathlessly.
“Yes, I am. Not sure if you knew, but last week was my birthday so that means I get a two-week grace period of presents. Kisses come with the territory. It’s a state law.”
I giggle. “Now you’re playing the birthday card.”
“Play it. Use it. Own it.” His voice hums over my skin as his fingers begin to roam. Oh Lord in heaven, I’ve never experienced this type of mesmerizing intimacy in my life.
“Anything to kiss you again,” he whispers into my ear and I shiver.
An overpowering urge screams to melt into him, to hold him, to wrap my body around him, but it’s the small voice begging me to listen to reason I cling to. “I need this to go slow.”
“Slow.” He nibbles on my ear and pleasurable goose bumps form on my neck. “I can make this as slow as you need.”
This is killing me because I crave his kisses, but... “Er. At least slower.”
West sighs, then falls back onto the bed, rubbing his face with both his hands. “I can do slower. It’s possible.” With a moan, West shoves off the bed, puts on his shoes and offers me his hand. “Let’s go for a drive. That should be safe.”
We end up in West’s SUV, driving around for hours talking about Rachel and hospitals, Isaiah and Abby, his relationship or nonrelationship with his father, how he’s been following his mother for over a year and Abby’s confession that his mother visits her brother at the bar.
“What are you going to do?” I ask as West stops at the last red light before we turn into my uncle’s neighborhood. “About your mom?”
He switches the hand he drives with and stares off into space. “I don’t know. I’ll try to talk to Abby again, but the more I talk to her, the further down the rabbit hole I fall.”
It’s like how I feel when I have a conversation with Matt. For a few seconds last week, I considered his deal. I could return to Matt for twenty-four hours, for a day, and then he’d be forced to keep his word and wipe the slate clean. But due to what’s happened with West, for better or worse, the option is no longer on the table.
Unable to look at him, I pick at lint on my shirt. “What number girlfriend am I?”
The light changes and West takes the right. “I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”
I laugh, then sober up when his mouth bunches to the right.
“You’re kidding,” I say.
He shakes his head and my imagination clicks at full speed. “You don’t kiss like you’ve never had a girlfriend.”
West scratches the shadow forming on his chin and is unusually silent for him. My stomach sinks. Crap. Just crap. “How bad?” I ask. He said he hooked up before, but how many hookups is he talking?
Silence. A long silence. Silence should be forbidden.
“Bad,” he finally answers.
The interior of the SUV darkens as we enter the lightless viaduct of the neighborhood. My skin pricks as the ghosts of West’s beautiful, bold and uninhibited lipstick-and thigh-high-wearing hookups hover near me. I bet they knew every secret move, every intimate whisper, and never blushed or fidgeted when touching went too fast and clothes were shed too quickly.
“Matt’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had,” I admit. “The only guy I’ve ever kissed.”
The washed-out sympathetic glance he throws me makes me want to shoot myself. He already knew. Sitting here in a pair of faded jeans, I have never felt as homely as I do now. I’m going to freaking strangle Jessica. I’m sure she gave him an entire history lesson on me.
West eases in front of my uncle’s and his expression hardens as he gazes past me to the house. “What the hell?”
I whip my head and panic shocks my nervous system. My hands fumble for the door handle, and after three tries I fling myself out of the SUV as West yells out behind me to stop, but I can’t stop. It’s Jax and if I don’t intervene, my uncle will throw him out.
West
Haley bolts and I mutter a curse as I shove the car into Park and chase after her. On the front lawn of her uncle’s house, Jax and an older version of Jax stand nose to nose. Both of their shoulders stiff and tight, hands and arms ready to strike.
“Do it!” yells the older guy. “Become a man and take the damned swing!”
“No!” shouts Haley and she rushes them. The front door bangs against the worn siding and Kaden’s out of the house. He jumps off the stoop and collides with his cousin.
“Let him go!” The older guy, the asshole, moves within eyeshot of Jax. The moment their gazes meet again, Jax attempts to surge toward him, but Kaden interlocks their arms, chest against chest, so that Jax goes no more than a step.
Using his shoulder, Kaden pushes him back, in my direction, and Haley’s following them. In a movement so smooth it appears coordinated, Kaden slides to the left, keeping Jax in his grip, and Haley slips in front of Jax and cups his face near his eyes, distorting his peripheral vision. “You don’t want to do this,” she says.
“I do.” Jax jacks his head to get a view of the dick still dropping insults. “I want to fucking kill him.”
“A year,” Haley says rapidly. “A year and you’re out. Think of your mom. Think of your brothers. You can’t protect them if you’re not here. If you give your dad what he wants, he’ll throw you out. He’ll call the police. It’s what he wants. He wants to prove John is wrong.”
With her last sentence, Jax darts his eyes to hers. “John’s not wrong about me.”
“He is!” The asshole spits at the ground. “Never seen such a waste of skin in my life.”
“Don’t listen to him.” Haley keeps her hands on Jax’s face. “I know you, and John’s not wrong. He’s right. He’s very, very right. You’re going to succeed.”
I stay near the car, but I have a foot angled toward the asshole, ready to protect Haley. I don’t know Jax. He doesn’t know me. I’ve encroached on his family and he hates that an outsider is involved with someone he loves. I understand that. I get it. And the rage in his eyes, the hurt radiating from his posture—I understand that, too. We both have fathers who should be roasting in hell.
“John’s wrong,” taunts the asshole. “Just like he’s wrong about the girl. Want to tell her what you said, Jax, or should I?”
&nbs
p; Jax grimaces and Kaden readjusts his grip. “Get out of here, Haley.”
“What?” Haley lowers her hands as the pain contorting Jax’s face is mirrored on hers. I inch closer, not liking the change between them.
“Go, Haley!” There’s a force in Kaden’s voice that could terrify a pissed-off rattlesnake. “You!” And he glares at me. “Get her out!”
Don’t have to tell me twice. I move in Haley’s direction as the screen door creaks and a guy resembling Kaden joins the party. “What’s happening?”
“Get her out, West!” Kaden yells. “Dad, go back inside.”
Haley’s eyes flicker between her cousin and brother. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jax’s dad laughs and he’s the only one who thinks this midnight scenario is funny. “Jesus, Jax. You don’t want her to hear what you had to say about her dating one of the Black Fire boys? I’d imagine Saint John thinks the same thing.”
Haley steps back and the pain darkening her eyes also rips my heart. Jax sags and Kaden releases him. “It’s not what you think.”
I slice in between them, facing her, not letting her cousin access. “Let’s go.”
But she’s not even on my planet as she peers around me. “Jax?”
“I was mad,” he explains. “I was talking to Kaden after I found out about you and West. I didn’t know anyone was around to overhear and it’s not what you think.”
The regret weighs his tone and I ache for him and for Haley. I understand regret. I understand being hurt, but Haley is my lone concern. I lace my fingers with hers, holding on even though her hand lies cold and dead in mine. “It doesn’t matter what he said. Let’s walk.”
“It matters,” she whispers. “Did you say it, Jax? Did you say it again?”
“That you’re a slut?” the asshole announces into the night. “Yeah, he did.”
The bear hibernating in me roars to life as I round on Jax’s father. “What did you say?”
“Slut.” His grin twitches. “I don’t know who you are, so get off my property.”
I’m on fire. Haley’s voice becomes distant as I cross the yard. He called her a slut. He called the girl I love a slut. Inches from him, I throw my fist back to pound the hell out of him when arms are everywhere. Behind me, in front of me, beside me and dragging me away.
“Want to say that again?” I shift my arm and I’m out of the grasp.
“Stop it!” Haley screams as she appears in front of me.
But I can’t stop. I love her. I love her and this asshole guy has made her life hell. He’s hurt what I love and he won’t do it again. With a hard yank, I’m free.
I rush forward again and a foot hooks against my calf and a hand grazes up my arm. In a flash, I’m in a free fall with my arm twisted behind my back. I grunt as my body crashes to the ground and Haley crouches beside me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m sorry. If you do this, he’ll kick us out. He might already and we have nowhere to go. Nowhere. I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Searching for freedom, I jerk and she releases me as the apology continues. Rising to my knees, the world shifts into slow motion as I glance at her brother, her cousin, then to her father.
Not one of them came to her defense. Haley’s uncle hovers over me. “Get off my property. If you come back here again, I’m calling the police.” He glares at Haley. “If you continue to see him, you and your entire worthless family are out.”
The front door slams shut as he goes into the house. Everyone else—her father, her cousin, her brother—solidify into frozen dumb-ass lawn ornaments in his screwed-up world. I drop my head into my hands as the anger begins to fade and the reality of what I’ve done sinks into my bone marrow. Just fuck.
“We’re not over,” I say so only she can hear. Haley massages circles over her temples.
The April night isn’t cold enough for my breath to show, but it’s cold enough for the air to burn my lungs. I hate the agony in her eyes, on her face, but what I hate more is the silent acceptance by her so-called family.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she says.
“He called you a slut.” I stare each one of them down. “She is not a slut.”
“Shit!” Jax turns his back to me and walks away into the night, slamming his fist into the mailbox. The metal door tips open and the entire box vibrates on the pole.
“It isn’t what you think,” says Kaden. With one final look at Haley, he follows his cousin.
“What’s your poor excuse?” I ask her father.
Haley touches me now: a grip on my biceps, fingernails digging into my arm. “Don’t. Not him. Yell at me, not at my dad.”
“I’m sorry, Haley.” Her father shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “I’m sorry.”
Her hold on me tightens and she gulps for air. “It’s okay, Dad. Don’t worry. It’s okay.”
The forced cheer in her voice causes me to fall back onto my ass. “Fuck this.” Taking a page from Abby’s book, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear Haley excuse her father for permitting anyone to call her a slut.
We remain silent as he stands on the front porch stoop, frowning at the brown winter grass. Her fingernails keep their teeth locked on my arm and the skin underneath begins to throb. I watch Haley, willing her to acknowledge me. Instead she focuses on nothing, on everything, once again locked inside her head.
“You have ten minutes before you need to be inside for curfew,” her father says. The screen door squeaks shut behind him.
Against the cold dirt and sparse grass, the two of us sit alone. “I’m waiting.” For an explanation, for a mere word, for a glance.
“For what?” she snaps.
Is she for real? “For you to explain what the hell is going on and why the fuck your family stood by and let some asshole treat you like shit.”
Flames blaze out of her eyes. “Because they have self-restraint. Because they aren’t like you. Do you want to know why I freak out over you being in the cage? It’s not because you aren’t capable or strong—it’s because you don’t think. Ever. You are impulsive and let your emotions rule your decisions.”
“He called you a slut!” She’s not getting it.
“Yeah, he did and you took off swinging. In order to survive, you’ve got to be smart. You’ve got to think. With a temper, you forget your training and start swinging wildly. That type of attitude will get you killed.”
“And you think so much that you never act. Rolling over and dying or letting people treat you like shit isn’t the answer, either.”
Haley closes her eyes. “I’m not a slut.”
“Never thought you were. In fact, I’m the only one willing to defend that.”
Besides the rumble of traffic on the nearby interstate, we stew in silence. She’s mad at me, I’m mad at her and, if I don’t do something drastic, I’ll lose the only good thing in my fucked-up life. “I’m in love with you.”
Finally, the girl looks at me. “What?”
“I don’t know.” I gesture to the house, the yard, the dirt surrounding us. “I’m not sure what suggested romance. Maybe it was the screaming match or the way my girlfriend kicked my ass to the ground, but I love you.”
Her mouth gapes. “I...I...”
“I don’t want you to say it back now. One of us should have some class.” Or maybe she doesn’t feel the same or maybe she’ll listen to her uncle and dump my ass. Either way, I don’t want to find out, at least not yet. “Can I say one more thing?”
She barely nods once.
“I don’t like how every time I’ve tried to defend you that you step in my way.”
“My uncle would have thrown us out!”
“And with Matt?”
“I would have lost my job.”
She’s
probably right on both counts, but there’s something dark in her eyes. It’s the same shadow I see whenever she stops me. “You’re worth fighting for.”
“I’m not.” The way she answers too fast with too much conviction twists my insides. When the three men who should be taking bullets for her stand by and let insults be thrown at her, how can I convince her otherwise?
“You are. You deserve better than this.”
The air thickens with her quiet resolve. I slide over and wrap an arm around her shoulder. She stays frozen, unmoving. Come on, Haley... “I mean it. I’m in love with you.”
She releases a long stream of air and I briefly close my eyes when she settles her head on my shoulder. “Tell me we’re still together, Haley.”
“I slept with Matt,” she says.
My head drops back, but I keep her body tight to mine, even when she tries to pull away. She slept with Matt. Slept with him. Had sex with him. They were together for a year. What the hell did I think they would be doing?
I long to reach inside my brain and tear out the images those four words produced. Thinking of her with another guy—kills me. Thinking of her with the bastard I hate the most—slays me. I say I love her; she announces she slept with the guy. Unfortunately, her admission seems to fit into this mess.
“Okay?” I’m not a good enough person to keep the edge out of my voice.
“While Matt and I were together, Matt told Jax about our...um...” Haley covers her eyes with her hand and her shyness, her embarrassment, chips away at some of my anger.
“Extracurricular activities?” I need a shotgun to blow the scenarios out of my head.
“Yeah, that. Matt told him before a match to piss him off and it worked. Jax lost his temper, which means he lost his game plan, which means he lost the fight. Sound familiar?”
“Temper. Fights. Moving on.”
“I’m serious. You need to work on impulsive decision making.”