I winced as he brushed his fingers against a raw patch of skin on my cheek. “I’m fine.”
He gaze drifted over my shoulder, narrowing as he caught sight of my stepbrother. “Did he—”
“No.” I shook my head and the motion made me slightly sick.
Justin moaned behind us. Turning, I surveyed my handiwork. The paintbrush was embedded high in his chest, right above the V neck of his sweater, below his collarbone. No mortal wound, but it looked painful. “You stabbed me!”
“You’re lucky to be alive,” Shaw snarled, pulling out his phone and dialing. I inched from his side, only distantly hearing him speak to a 911 operator as I studied my stepbrother with an odd sense of curiosity.
Standing over him, I murmured, “You can’t hurt me. Not anymore. Not ever again.”
And I realized I had been letting him do that. Him and Mom. All these years. I’d been letting them keep me from living life and finding happiness.
Justin panted, his face sweaty and creased with pain as he stared up at me. “God, it fucking hurts, Emerson. Call an ambulance. Please! I’m sorry! Please!”
Shaw moved back to my side, wrapping an arm around me. He spoke gently, as if I was something fragile that might shatter. “An ambulance is coming. The police, too. I’m sure they’re going to want to talk to you.” His gaze skimmed my face. “And probably take you to the hospital.”
I nodded.
“What about me?” Justin whined.
All softness fled from Shaw’s voice. “Yeah, you, too, asshole. After they arrest you, of course.”
Justin dropped his head back on the floor, whimpering now, his hand hovering over the paintbrush stuck in his chest. “No, please. I’m fucking dying here. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
Shaw’s eyes were hard and uncaring. “It’s just a flesh wound, pussy.” He moved to crouch over my stepbrother. He tapped the paintbrush and Justin yelped. “What I should do is bury it in deeper.” Shaw glanced at me, his eyes softening as they lingered on me. “She’s a better person than I am. Because that’s what I would have done. If I’d caught you attacking her, I would have killed you.”
Justin’s eyes grew enormous and he shook his head wildly, whimpering all over again, but this time I doubted it was due to the pain. It was fear.
Shaw continued. “It’s no less than you deserve, and I promise, if you ever come at her again, I’ll kill you.”
“I’m sorry, man.” Justin’s gaze flicked over to me. “I’m sorry, Emerson. I’ll leave you alone. You’ll never see me again. I promise.”
Shaw stood again and reclaimed my hand, warm fingers lacing tightly with my fingers. “You all right?”
It was over. What began all those years ago. What turned me into a creature who went through every day in a state of quasi existence. I existed but didn’t live, hiding inside myself, looking out at the world but never stepping into it.
Shaw knew that. He saw it in me.
I squeezed his hand back. “I just want to go home.” I sagged against him, content to lean on him, to let him hold me. For however long he wanted. I was finally ready to step outside.
Chapter 21
IT WAS AFTER TWO in the morning when I was released from the hospital.
I had to be examined. Photographs taken and my minimal injuries catalogued. The same police officer who stayed with me through the night and took my initial statement led us to his car in the hospital lot.
I slid into the backseat of the cruiser. Shaw followed, settling beside me. His strong arms wrapped around me and held me. I released a pent-up breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. We’d barely pulled out of the parking lot before my head dropped on Shaw’s shoulder.
Shaw had remained at the hospital with me, holding my hand like he would never let go, leaving only during the doctor’s exam when they forced him to step outside the room. He called Georgia and Pepper for me, backing me up when I insisted that I didn’t need them to come to the hospital. I spoke to each of them briefly, assuring them I was fine. Pepper’s voice had cracked when I talked to her and I knew she was on the verge of tears over what had happened. Fortunately she hadn’t been in front of me right then or we would have both ended up blubbering like babies.
“Thanks,” I murmured as I settled into the backseat. “For everything.”
“Don’t mention it. I . . .” His voice faded.
“What?” I prompted, keeping my voice low, aware of the police officer a few feet away in the front seat.
“I should have been there sooner. I was working in the shed. I left my phone in the house. I came as soon as I read your text.”
I smiled tiredly, playing with his fingers where they rested on my thigh. Trust him to blame himself for not rescuing me.
“You were there when I needed you.” I yawned and nestled against him.
“Not tonight,” he murmured, his low voice deep and earnest. “You saved yourself.”
I smiled as my eyelids sank shut. “I did, didn’t I?”
I WOKE TO THE smell of coffee and frying eggs. My stomach grumbled. Blinking, I rubbed at my eyes. The nachos of yesterday were a long-ago memory. I was wearing one of Shaw’s T-shirts. I didn’t even remember changing. Last night must have really wiped me out.
Sitting up, I looked around Shaw’s home. He moved about in his kitchen wearing only pajama bottoms that hung low on his narrow hips. I followed the lean, muscled lines of his body as they pulled and flexed with his actions. His dark hair was wild, sticking out in every direction on his head. Everything about him was strength and vitality. And mine. He was all mine. A slow smile curled my lips.
He moved back and forth, light on his feet, between the stove and the counter, sliding eggs and bacon onto plates. He turned a dial, shutting off the stove. Bread popped up from the toaster and he grabbed the hot slices, muttering a curse as he added those to the plates. Picking up the plates, he headed toward the bed.
His eyes lit up when he saw me sitting in bed. “You’re awake.”
“How could I sleep with the smell of bacon in the air?”
Grinning, he sank down on the bed, carefully balancing a plate in each hand. “Very true.”
I took one plate from him. “So.” I bit into a piece of bacon. “This is a little déjà vu.” I plucked at the T-shirt for illustration. “I’m guessing you changed my clothes for me.” This time, at least, the idea didn’t overly embarrass me.
“You fell asleep in the car.”
I swallowed my bite of toast. “I didn’t realize we were coming back to your place.”
“I wanted to keep you with me.” His eyes were steady on me, watching me like I might bolt at his words. “Can you blame me? After last night?” Suddenly I had an image of him watching me while I slept. I tucked a tangled lock of hair behind my ear and winced at the grimy texture. I must look a mess. My cheek was still sore. I felt achy and gross all over.
“I need a shower,” I mumbled, my hand reaching around to feel the dried paint crusting my hair while my other hand lifted another slice of bacon to my mouth. Chewing, I gestured to my overflowing plate. “Is it wrong that I want to finish this first? It’s really good.”
“No. Eat. Then you can shower.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll help.”
I smiled slightly at the wicked way he was looking at me. “You’ll help me shower? That’s awfully sweet of you. So selfless.”
“I’m just a sweet guy like that. And I’m kind of into you. A lot.” He ran his thumb down the curve of my cheek. The wicked glint faded from his eyes . . . leaving something that made my chest squeeze. “Get used to it.”
My smile slipped and the air suddenly shifted, grew strained and uncomfortable. His hand dropped away. I wet my lips, knowing that things needed to be said. “I’m sorry I walked away from you at the rehearsal dinner—”
“No, I’m sorry. I had no right to show up like that. You didn’t want me there. I should have respected that.”
I studied my plate, my f
ork stabbing at a bit of egg. “Maybe. But you were right though, you know. Everything you ever said about me. I was scared. I’ve always been scared. Of getting close to anyone. Of letting anyone in. Especially you. Oh. God. You . . .” I lifted my gaze to his face and said hoarsely, “You terrified me.”
An emotion like agony flickered across his face. He moved forward as though he would grab hold of me, but then he stopped, restraining himself. His hands opened and closed into tight white-knuckled fists at his sides.
“The reason you terrified me,” I explained, forcing the words out, “is because I cared about you. I knew that I could love you and that scared me. Honestly, it still does.” And I knew now that it always would.
Like Georgia said. Loving someone is scary. That was part of it. Always. Knowing that at any moment for any reason it could be lost. But I wanted that. I wanted love. Even if I couldn’t control it. I wanted it. I wanted him.
Some of the agony faded from his face at my admission, but it wasn’t gone entirely. He averted his gaze, staring down at his clenched hands. “I push too hard. I’ve always been guilty of that. I should have learned from Adam. I led the charge, convinced him that he should sign up with me. I just took over for both our lives, made all our choices. I don’t want to do that with you.”
I covered his fists with my hand and squeezed them. “You didn’t force Adam into doing anything he didn’t want to do. And trust me, no one makes choices for me either. I’m stubborn.”
He sighed long and hard, his chest lifting and dipping. “I’ve pushed you and bossed you around simply because I thought I knew what was right for you.” He dragged a hand through his hair, sending dark strands in every direction again. “And then I went after Justin right in the middle of that party because I wanted to tear him apart. It was about my anger in that moment. I didn’t care what you wanted.” He shook his head, looking so sorry that I wanted to grab him close and comfort him. “I just lost it. I didn’t care if my actions made you uncomfortable—”
I kissed him hard, delving my fingers in that hair I had been dying to touch. I slanted my lips over his and opened my mouth, thrusting my tongue inside his. His hands came around my back and hauled me closer with a groan.
“Just love me,” I breathed into him.
He froze against me, the air crashing from his mouth into mine. His broad chest rose and fell against me with each of those ragged breaths.
I pulled back, holding his face in my hands, letting my words hover between us. I waited with my heart rising to my throat, drowning in his brown eyes.
He stared at me, saying nothing. Doing nothing.
Time hung, suspended, and I began to wonder if he had even heard me.
“Say something,” I whispered.
He spoke haltingly, his hands tightening on my back. “Again. Say that again. So I know it’s real and not a dream.”
“Love me. Please.” I inhaled, then shook my head fiercely. I hadn’t come this far, to this moment, to utter only half of it. “Like I love you, Shaw. Because I do.” I kissed him. “I do love you.” Another kiss. “I love you.” I kissed him several more times, breaking up each kiss with a choked I love you.
He moved then. Heedless of our plates and the food he sent sliding across the bed and floor, he came over me, folding me into his arms. His lips smothered mine, kissing me until I couldn’t breathe. I kissed him back, deciding that air was overrated. Who needed it when there was this?
“I love you,” I whispered brokenly against his lips. Tears leaked out at the corners of my eyes. He pushed the hair off my face, clearing me for his view. Our noses touched, we were so close. His fingers trailed over my face, drying the tears from my cheeks as quickly as they fell.
“Don’t cry, baby. I love you. I love you, Emerson.” He pronounced the words slowly, like he was savoring them. Or maybe he just wanted me to absorb them. Maybe he wanted them to sink in so that I would feel them as clearly and completely as I felt his hands on my face, his lips against mine . . . his heartbeat vibrating from his chest into my body.
So that I would believe in them. Believe in him.
And I did. I felt them. I believed in them.
I believed in us.
Chapter 22
Three months later . . .
I SHIFTED ANXIOUSLY ON my high heels, standing in front of A Winter’s Morning in the packed room. Voices congested the air, mingling with the clink of glasses and laughter. I’d been invited to show two pieces in the exhibit at the posh Boston gallery and had taken position in front of my favorite one—naturally the one that most reminded me of Shaw.
Smiling, I exchanged pleasantries with a pair of ladies who admired A Winter’s Morning, and answered their questions.
When they moved on, my gaze strayed several feet away where my father chatted with the gallery owner. When I invited him, I hadn’t expected him to attend. Even more shocking than his presence tonight was that he seemed impressed . . . even proud of me. While it loosened something inside my chest and made me feel lighter, I didn’t need it. I was glad he was here, but I didn’t need his approval. I’d found my own sense of self-worth without him. Without my mother.
“Hey, beautiful.”
I started a little and then smiled as Shaw came up beside me, sliding an arm around my waist.
I leaned into him, relishing the hard press of his body against me. “Hey, you.”
Gazing up at him, I knew my heart was in my eyes because I could feel it there. Since the night I woke up at his house after Justin’s attack, I held nothing back. I loved him and made no effort to hide it. It was in my every word. My every action. We’d become as bad as Pepper and Reece. Inseparable other than when we had to part from each other’s company for class and work. Correction: as good.
Granted, a lot of our time together was spent undressing each other. At his house or my dorm. Mostly at his house though. We couldn’t get enough of each other—but we also spent a lot of time together in his shed. Working. Creating. I had started learning how to airbrush. Shaw kept bringing pieces of metal for me to practice my craft. It was gratifying to work side by side with him . . . moving toward a like goal. He was hoping to open his shop by the fall. He’d already found a space, and I was hoping to be ready by the time he moved in to tackle airbrushing his bikes. He claimed I was ready, that I was better than the professionals he’d worked with before, but I still wanted more practice. I wanted to be a real asset to his business. Our business. He insisted that we were in this together—or as much as I wanted to be. And I wanted to be.
He lowered his mouth to my ear, the movement of his lips on my skin sending goose bumps racing over my arms. “If you don’t stop looking at me that way, I’ll have to find a storage closet and hike up this little black dress of yours—”
“Hey, guys! Sorry we’re late. Parking was a bear.”
Face flaming and my breath tight in my chest, I looked up as Suzanne, Pepper, and Reece closed in. I hugged the girls as Reece and Shaw shook hands.
“Thanks so much for coming, guys.”
Pepper and Suzanne stood back to admire my work.
“We wouldn’t miss it. This is so thrilling.” Pepper squeezed my hands excitedly.
Suzanne shook her head in awe as she stood directly in front of the painting. “Oh my goodness, it’s gorgeous, Emerson. You are so good!”
“Thank you.” I glanced around. “Where’s Georgia?”
Pepper and Suzanne exchanged looks. “You haven’t heard from her?”
I frowned. “No.”
“We haven’t seen her since this morning, and she’s not answering our texts.”
“Huh.” I glanced at each of them. “Hope everything’s okay.”
Pepper shrugged. “I know she planned on coming tonight.”
“Maybe she’s with . . .” Suzanne’s voice faded suggestively. She lifted her eyebrows meaningfully.
“Hey, she’s a big girl. Don’t worry about her,” Reece cut in, waving over a waiter carryin
g a tray of champagne flutes. “Let’s have a toast.”
Everyone took a glass and lifted them up in the air.
“To Emerson,” Shaw declared. “As talented and brilliant as she is beautiful. Inside and out.”
My friends ahhed and heat crawled over my cheeks.
Shaw leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to my mouth. “And I love her.”
Glasses clinked as we all toasted. I looked from my friends to Shaw and exhaled a shaky breath, giddy butterflies fluttering through me. Life was good.
Shaw took my hand, his fingers lacing with mine. “Happy?” he asked.
I smiled, my chest swelling with emotion. “More than I ever thought possible.”
He kissed me, murmuring against my lips, “Get used to it. This is only the beginning.”
Teaser
Want to know what happens to Georgia?
Find out in Wild, the final book in the Ivy Chronicles.
Available everywhere November 2014.
He took my arm and dragged me through the room. “I told you that you shouldn’t come here,” he said over his shoulder, his voice deep enough that he didn’t even have to lift it over the thumping bass for me to hear.
His long strides moved swiftly, leading us through the press of bodies and out the front door. As if it was his right to touch me. As if his brother dating my best friend gave him the right to interfere in my life.
We stepped out onto the empty porch. Empty because why hang out here when there was privacy inside to do all kinds of wild and wicked things. The type of things one did at a kink club. Things I had yet to learn about. Thanks to him.
I pulled free and crossed my arms across my chest, chafing my hands up and down the sleeves of my cashmere sweater. “And I told you not to tell me what to do.”
I tried to look down my nose at him the way I had seen my mother do countless times when squaring off with some mouthy delinquent. My sister and I called it her principal look. If she ever used it on us, we knew we were in trouble. But the effect was lost on him.
Yeah, he stood over six feet, but it wasn’t that. Logan had an air about him. A confidence rare for anyone, much less an eighteen-year-old guy. He held himself like someone who knew who he was and his place in the world. And that annoyed me. Why was he so damned self-assured?