His gaze shifts to mine on a dime. “Do you want Rush?”
Here it is, the moment of reckoning. I suppose a half-truth couldn’t hurt all that much. “What’s not to want?” I pull the laptop over and start typing anything that comes to mind because I never was good at looking someone in the eye and telling them a lie.
Grant moans as he pulls my laptop out of range from my jittery fingers. “I guess you know what you’re looking for.”
My eyes skirt the outline of his form. Grant is built like a wall, like a human jungle gym the little girl in me would love to climb. Who am I kidding? It’s the big girl in me that wants to run wild on that piece of flesh over steel.
“I guess I do.” Our eyes connect, snapping together like Lego pieces. There’s something final and perfectly delicious in the way we click. I have never felt a living heat with anyone else like I’m feeling right now—an eternal flame oblivious to the elements around us. With Grant in the room, everyone else ceases to exist.
A smile tugs on the corners of his lips, but he’s too stubborn to give it.
“So tell me about Marcy.” My own smile melts right off at the mention of his ex. “Any chance of a reconciliation? Little sisters love to have their big brother’s plus one hanging around. Just think of all the fun we can have. We could go shopping. Heck, I’d even let her braid my hair.” There is something so deeply sorrowful in Grant’s eyes. It was the first thing I noticed when I sat down at the table last week. I saw it at the mixer, too. Not even his smile can hide it. That girl must have tap danced all over his heart in nine inch spiked heels.
“It’s Darcy.” He shakes his head and breaks the trance we had fallen into. His gaze reverts back to the screen with that perennial frown. “We’re over. We’re still good friends, though. She’s coming down in a few weeks. You’ll get to meet her then. She’s up in Virginia at a private university.”
“Nice.” My adrenaline soars at the current friendly state of their relations, and then a crippling thought comes to mind. “But everyone knows absence makes the heart grow fonder.” My lips quiver with admission. I’m not sure why I’ve decided to play devil’s advocate with their impending reunion. Hell, I don’t know why I’m trying to find a reason for him to run to her right this minute. It’s evident Daisy has her work cut out with me, but then again, I am employing her reverse psychology techniques on a nuclear level. I swear, if they end up walking down the aisle by summer, I’m going to strangle Daisy by the strap of her Kate Spade handbag. Aubree blinks through my mind, and I’m quick to wipe all thoughts of torturing Daisy out of my head. No thanks to my murderous sister, all homicidal fantasies have been swept off the table, even though everyone understands that a normal person is allotted a good homicidal fantasy once in a while. Leave it to Aubree to take it to the extreme. My mood plummets. I’d do anything to reverse what my sister did.
“Um”—I clear my throat in an effort to stave off tears—“if you felt something once, you can feel it again.” There. Maybe something good will come of my newfound obsession with Grant after all—his reconciliation with the love of his life, Marcy, Darcy, whatever the hell her name is.
Grant tips his head back, his eyes set to the ceiling as if giving this some serious consideration. Great. My work here is done. I can start amassing cats by the dozens now and muttering to myself while wearing nothing but a bathrobe. I’m sure a future that involves a multitude of felines and a deficiency of males is one that Owen would approve of.
“I don’t think so.” Grant pulls the laptop close, swallowing hard as if gulping down some serious emotions.
“Oh, I get it. The wound is too raw. Not that I would know. I haven’t had my heart sliced and diced just yet. I’m sort of saving that good time for Rush.” I knock my shoulder into his in an attempt to add some levity to the situation.
“He’ll slice and dice and put it in a blender for you.” That mile-wide grin of his floats back to his lips. “One heartbreak smoothie coming right up.” His mood shifts as those dark amber eyes latch back on to mine. “On second thought, don’t get your heart broken—hurts too much.”
“Wow, she really did a number on you.”
“She didn’t. My sister did.”
His sister. I take a quick breath. The one who died! I feel like a big pile of steaming shit for even taking him down that broken hearted road. Of course, he’s still hurting. Pain like that never really leaves you.
A heavy breath escapes me as I reach over and take up his fingers. The heat from his hand singes me right down to the bone.
“I know all about broken hearts, Grant.” A mournful smile bounces on my lips as I interlace our fingers. “My sister broke mine, too.” A single tear rolls down my cheek as we lose ourselves in the moment, just the two of us, our gazes magnetized and unbreakable in our shared pain.
Grant reaches up and catches my tear with his thumb, pressing it to my lips, and I kiss it. My entire body quivers with relief at that one single touch.
“Make a wish.”
I give a slow nod. It already came true.
“You’re a good big brother.”
He winces. “I may not have had the power to protect my sister from a broken heart, but I can protect you.” His brows arch in amusement, and a cool breeze washes over the two of us as a small crowd whisks by. “I’d stay away from Rush if I were you.” Grant gets right to the task of helping me with my paper, scooting his chair so close our shoulders become one.
Stay away from Rush? I’ll protect you? Sounds like Daisy knows a thing or two after all. Yes, score one for Daisy.
The memory of his thumb pressed to my lips comes back in a heated flurry.
Score one for me, too.
Grant
Weeks trickle by like water with Ava and me biking through all of the trails that line the outskirts of the school. Apparently, ditching her actual big brother is a sport Ava indulges in quite often. Thursday after practice, both Lawson and Rush demand we hit the Black Bear for dinner.
“I’m not sure.” I knew I should have driven—or walked for that matter. Briggs isn’t that far from the frat house. I’m not a fan of the Black Bear. I’ve been a time or two—ran into Jet and that was pretty cool, but honestly, it still twists my guts to head in there. I haven’t seen Bryson yet. He happens to own the bar along with his siblings. I’ve heard his wife, Baya, is a part-time waitress there.
I’m glad she escaped the clutches of that nutcase that killed my sister, but a part of me still resents Bryson. Sure, the suicide note wasn’t true, but Stephanie shared with me on more than one occasion that she wished he felt for her what she felt for him. That note may have been fabricated, but it was all gospel as far as I’m concerned. That bitch that pushed my sister to her death knew well enough what was going on. She used my sister to get what she wanted, only she didn’t get the prize—Baya stood in the way. Baya survived. Stephanie didn’t. That’s a pretty crap ending to a pretty crap story.
“Well, I do know.” Rush slips his truck in the parking spot right in front. “Looks like destiny is calling. Come on, dude. I’m buying.” He slaps me over the back. “Burgers all around.”
We head inside, hungry as hell from a three-hour practice, my muscles screaming at me to get to bed and stay there. I do a quick sweep of the vicinity to see if I recognize anyone. A part of me is looking for Jet, but he’s just a cover for what my subconscious is really looking to find, but I don’t see Bryson or his lookalike brother, Holt. I bumped into Holt briefly that summer, and he explained away the fact he and Bryson are twins. I couldn’t care less who he was. His face was like a hot iron pressed to an open wound. It hurt like hell just to look at the guy.
Music pumps through the speakers, and an entire herd of coeds breaks out into spontaneous laughter at the table in front of us.
Rush snorts at the sight. “Looks like the buffet is open tonight, boys.”
Ava and her constant chatter about Rush and his goofy grin knife me. I’m not so sure that I’m
buying her I-think-Rush-is-oh-so-great routine. A part of me refuses to believe it. She’s too sweet to his sour, too casual to his high anxiety, too… Everything about the fact she’s into Rush vexes me at the moment, every moment to be exact.
“Forget the girls—tonight is about food.” I brush past the crowd, ignoring the purrs and catcalls as we make our way to the back.
“Dude”—Lawson shakes his head as we take our seats—“did you leave your dick at home? Those girls are fucking hot.” He picks up the menu, still shaking his head at the idea. “Emphasis on the fucking.”
“They might be hot”—I growl at Rush a moment—“but you’re taken, lover boy.” The words felt like vomit, even if I didn’t mean them. “Ava has this little schoolgirl crush on you.” I pull my menu forward and try to find the most expensive thing on it since lover boy here is buying. “Make sure you stay away from her. I hear her big brother is a real ballbuster.”
“You met her brother?” Lawson nods at the waitress as she comes over.
“I am her brother.”
We put in our orders, and I listen as Rush and Lawson try to figure out which girl at the next table they’d like to pin to their mattress for dessert. I don’t know Lawson as well as I do Rush, but I’m thinking he talks a better game than he plays. However, I’ve seen Rush in action—completely to my misfortune. That white ass of his is the last thing anyone needs to see after midnight—or before. The girl he was with laughed up a storm. She even motioned me over. Nope. Not for me. Rush’s girls rarely are. For a moment, I picture the scene. Only this time the girl’s face is transposed with Ava’s. She motions me over, and this time I go. I sock the living crap out of Rush until he’s halfway in the hall begging for mercy. Then it’s me in that bed with Ava. That happy-to-see-me smile on her panting lips.
“Dude.” Lawson kicks me in the shin. “She’s taking your order.”
“Right.” I blink into my menu a few times before glancing up at the nametag that reads, BAYA. Sandy blonde, big doe eyes. She looks exactly how I remember from that brief encounter at the fair a few years back. I glance behind her a moment in the event Bryson is about to pop up. My heart drums so fast, I can’t hear the music blaring over the speakers anymore. “Steak. Make it rare and extra expensive.” I blink a smile to Rush as she traipses off with our orders.
“Where were you?” Rush doesn’t look all that amused. “I know you, man. I’m here for you. I know it doesn’t get easier.” He gets that far-off look in his eyes a moment. I know what’s on his mind—who to be exact. His mother. Rush always manages to look extra pissed when he thinks of his mom. Rush lost his mother about seven years ago in a traffic accident. A pickup ran a red light and smashed into her Corolla like a freight train. The coroner said she didn’t feel a thing. That’s one of the things that bonded us. We both know how much death sucks and how little time really heals. Death is a bastard, and time is a liar. Maybe I should get that tattooed across my chest right under Stephanie’s name. Too much pain. There isn’t much good left in the world without Steph around.
Ava bounces through my mind like a rubber ball I can’t seem to catch. That smiling face, those laughing eyes telling me it isn’t so. She has so much damn hope, it rubs off on me after we’re together just like that sweet perfume of hers. I like getting back to my room, smelling her sweet scent on me. Just being in her presence is like walking in a ray of holy sunlight. She’s too pure and right to ever be with Rush.
I scowl at him a minute.
“You two having a silent argument?” Lawson looks lost.
“Nope.” Rush gets that shit-eating grin on his face that lets me know he’s about to shovel a pile of bull down my throat. “Grant here is too busy fantasizing about banging his little sister. Dude, you know I’m digging my dick into her first, right?”
A burst of rage pumps through me. “Nobody is digging their junk into any little sister. You want me saying that shit about Lucky?”
“Nobody should say that about Lucky,” Lawson grunts as if it’s a fact. “That girl is a piece of work.”
“Is that because she shut you out?” Now it’s me with the shit-eating grin. I prefer the spotlight on just about anybody else.
“Are you kidding?” Lawson balks at the idea. “I wouldn’t even entertain it. No fantasies here for me. I offered to give her a ride back to Briggs the other night, and she practically pulled out the Mace. I don’t need that brand of psycho in my life.”
“Me thinks you protest too much.” I try to remember what Lucky looks like, but Ava keeps pumping though my mind like a heartbeat. “Ava likes her, so she has to be decent.”
“Ava this, Ava that. You got a hard-on for the girl. Just admit it.” Rush has that smart aleck look on his face, and I can tell the dig is coming. “Too bad she’s mine. It’s gonna hurt for a minute, but as soon as I rip her virginity right off, you’ll get over it, sweetheart. I’m shooting for homecoming, but Halloween is another fun night. In my experience, girls are more prone to turning in their V-cards on anniversaries and national holidays.”
“You’re a piece of shit.” I push my seat back, and it strums like thunder as I lunge for him.
“Whoa!” a deep voice comes from behind as my arms are locked in a vise. I turn to find Jet twisting me in a pretzel.
Baya comes with the food, and I take a step away from the table.
“We’re just messing around.” I pull back and hold my hands up. Jet’s a decent guy. He did the tat of Stephanie’s name for me a few months back. He seemed interested in what happened to her. He really did seem to care. It was nice to have another ear to lean on.
Rush tosses a balled up napkin in my face. “That’s right. Take a moment to digest what I said, sweetie.” He gives a sly wink, and I walk away from the table with a laugh threatening to thump out of my chest. Rush knows how to get under my skin like no one else, and he loves to do it. He’s been like a brother to me, so I can’t fault him for it.
Jet follows me over, and I slap him five. “What’s up? You playing bouncer for the night?” I try to shake Ava out of my mind, but she’s right there with that happy-go-lucky grin of hers, unshakable, unmovable, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was enjoying every minute.
“Actually, I’m waiting for my girlfriend to show up.” He glances back at a table in the corner. “You going to the homecoming game tomorrow night? My buddy, Rex, is gonna tear up the field.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
He glances over my shoulder and winces. “Hey, you mind if I introduce you to somebody?”
I look over at a couple of guys sucking down beers and inspect their faces as best as I can, but not one of those dudes is Bryson Edwards.
“Yeah, sure.” I don’t see the harm. For all I know, Jet just wants me to expand my friendly horizons. I sort of spilled everything to the guy the day he gave me the tattoo of Stephanie’s name. His kindness in that moment meant the world to me. There aren’t too many people who you can spill your guts to, but there was something about Jet that made me feel as if he understood loss on a personal level himself.
“Yo.” He nods at the brawny guy at the end of the table. I can see the monochromatic sleeves running down his arms. His neck looks tatted up as well. He has a kind face, friendly grin as he makes his way over. Something about that devilish look in his eyes has a familiar feel to it. “Dude, don’t bolt.” Jet shakes his head at me. Those dark shadows he calls eyes speak to me on a whole other level. “This is Owen Vincent. His sister is—”
“Aubree.” It comes out more of a hiss than anything audible. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I said her name. Not sure I ever said it out loud. My stomach grinds to concrete. My blood runs cold. Maybe that’s what I’m seeing in his eyes—a killer’s eyes. I shake the thought out of my head before I let it settle. “So, this is your friend, huh?” I’m not too sure what Jet’s point here is. It’s clear he knows who I am. Or he put it together. God knows I handed him enough pieces of the puzzle. “I??
?d say nice to meet you, but I’d be lying.” A dull smile pumps from me. I don’t know too much about the bitch that killed my sister. Don’t care to. I know all of the important facts. She’s rotting behind prison bars until kingdom come, and even that will be too soon to set her free.
Owen shifts from foot to foot. He takes a deep breath, and that wild look on his face slowly melts to a morbid acceptance.
“Are you in town?”
I can’t tell if he’s puzzled or vexed by my presence—most likely both.
“I’m at Briggs.”
“Oh.” He glances to Jet with that what-the-fuck look on his face. “So am I.” Owen staggers back a moment before glancing over. “I’m sorry. I can never say it enough, and I swear on all that is holy, I mean every last syllable. I beg your forgiveness. I cannot imagine the pain you and your family have gone through.”
“Your mother said it all at the trial. You didn’t do a thing wrong. Don’t beg me for anything.”
Those strange eyes of his drill into mine, and for a minute, I consider kicking his ass all over the place. It’s pretty clear he could kick right back, but when you have bottled-up rage infesting your veins like I do, there’s not a chance in hell he’d ever succeed. His brows flex up at the center in the same way Ava’s do, and something about that one simple gesture softens me.
“All right. I’m over it. I’m not going to kick your ass.” A dull laugh bucks through me, and the two of them do the same.
Jet lands his catcher’s mitt of a hand over my shoulder and throttles me. “That is one war you might not win. Good move, dude.”
“I’d win.” I slap Owen five. “So, this is weird for you, too, right?”
“Damn straight.” His demeanor grows serious again. “Look, I know you’re here with your buddies, and I see your dinner getting cold. If you ever see me on campus, don’t be a stranger. I think”—he swallows hard as if he can’t get the words out—“I kind of needed this.”