I want him badly—there’s no denying that—yet I can’t have him. Not just because he’s part of the world I’ve been trying to escape, either. If it were that simple, life would be pretty uncomplicated.
No, the complications between us are endless, ranging from Evan forcing his way back into my life to my father being super controlling. Plus, I’m wary if I can even trust Ryler.
Still, I always find myself stealing a glance at him whenever I get the opportunity. What I wouldn’t give to be able to touch him again, kiss him, bask in his silence instead of fearing it. He makes it hard when he does stuff like bring his stereo up simply because I stated I wanted to listen to music while we work.
Tears start to sting at my eyes as I remember the night I went down to Ryler’s, right after Evan and I broke up over the phone. Every single breath, heartbeat, word exchanged felt magical. Light. Possibilities floated in the air like pixie dust. For once, my life seemed to be my own. But I was crazy to believe that would ever happen.
Crazy, crazy, crazy—the words are carved into my bones.
Around the fifth song, Ryler peers up at me from his writings. Our gazes collide and weld together, like they’ve done at least ten times tonight.
Dying, Dying, Dying. Feel how you pushing him away is killing you. You need to stop fighting what you want. I wish I could listen to my thoughts. Wish I could surrender to what my heart thinks it wants.
But the good girl I’ve been taught to be, the one I wish I could kill, keeps my lips sealed, and her attention focuses on the pages.
Slowly, dying.
Dying.
Dying.
Dying.
Dying self-tortuously.
Ten minutes later, Ryler unexpectedly kills the music. The record makes a scratching noise before the room grows completely quiet. I angle my head back and look up at him standing directly in front of me with his arms crossed, his muscles flexed.
“What’s wrong?” I rotate my wrist and check the time on my watch. Nine o’clock. Way earlier than he normally leaves. “Do you have to go somewhere?”
He sweeps fallen strands of his hair out of his eyes then signs, “We’re going somewhere.”
I frown. “Somewhere for my father?”
He shakes his head. “Actually, your father’s out of town for a business meeting all weekend, so hopefully, he won’t find out we went out tonight. In fact, he can’t know we left the house tonight. You have to agree to this before we go out. I need you to promise you’ll be able to keep it a secret from him.”
I don’t know why, but I absentmindedly touch the tip of my finger to the silver butterfly pendant bracelet around my wrist that my mother gave me. She made me promise to never take it off, which I haven’t. Keeping promises is one thing I’ve always been good at. Well, except for the pills I’m supposed to take. I haven’t touched those since I moved out, but I tell my mother the opposite every time she brings them up.
“Okay, I promise.” I rise to my feet. “Now, where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” He fishes his phone from his pocket, and his fingers tap the screen as he sends someone a text.
“Since when do you give me surprises?” I ask skeptically as I slip on my sandals.
“Since I remembered that I promised to give you a lot of firsts.”
When the phone beeps, he reads the message, stuffs the phone back into his pocket, and then offers me the sexiest lopsided grin I’ve ever seen.
“How do you know I haven’t done what we’re doing tonight?”
“I don’t know, but I have a hunch.”
“Do I,” I peer down at my cutoffs and tank top—definitely not the attire I normally wear when going outdoors, “need to change?”
He waves me off. “Nah. Where we’re going, you’ll fit right in.” He offers me his hand.
He’s being extremely sweet right now, and I find myself craving to lace my fingers through his. But then I remember how he’s been sweet since I first met him, yet has been working for my father the entire time, and my walls go right back up.
I need to protect myself, so instead of taking his hand, I fetch my wallet from the counter then wrap my arms around myself. “So, when do I get to find out where we’re going?”
My rejection causes him to frown. “When we get there. I want it to be a surprise.”
“That’s putting a lot of trust in you, isn’t it?”
“You don’t trust me?”
A small part of me does trust him; the part that remembers what it felt like to kiss him in his room, a kiss he allowed me to lead, something no one has ever let me do. But a bigger part of me remembers how he showed up on my doorstep with my father.
“I’m not sure,” I reply honestly.
He nods then opens the door and steps out into the stairway. I give one final glance over my shoulder toward the hallway where my brother Ellis is standing, nodding his head in approval.
I’ve been seeing Ellis more frequently as the pills slowly clear out of my system. My mind has become more sharpened, clearer, and I’ve dove head-on into a world full of what I think might be hallucinations. Despite the fact that I want to believe my parents wrongfully medicated me with pills for psychosis, it’s difficult to deny the truth when it’s standing in front of me in all its maddening form.
Like always, Ellis never gets close enough for me to reach out and see if he’s just an illusion. Illusion or not, he resembles the real him to the point that it’s almost painful; dark hair, the same eyes as me, tall, with pain continuously haunting his expression.
I want to speak to him—I usually do—but with Ryler here, watching my every move, it would be difficult to have a conversation with something that doesn’t really exist.
Go, Ellis mouths, motioning me to leave, just be careful. His gaze falls to my wrist. “And don’t let the butterfly out.”
The pendant on my arm suddenly feels as though it weighs a hundred pounds. I’m supposed to wear the piece of jewelry all the time, per my mother’s orders, but it seems imperative to remove it.
I lift my hand to examine the intricate metal, and the silver catches in the lighting above my head.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
They can see you.
My eyelids lift and open. The blinking has vanished, but an unsettling feeling still plagues me.
I need to take the bracelet off.
With trembling fingers, I unfasten the clamp, slip the bracelet off, and carefully place it on the coffee table. I massage my wrist, feeling as though I just removed a cuff, then exit out the door, joining Ryler in the stairway.
“You okay?” he signs as I lock up the door, concern written all over his face. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
With a jerk on the doorknob, I double-check that the door is secured. “No, I want to go.”
He nods, and then we descend the stairway toward the bottom floor. Strangely, without the bracelet on, my footsteps are lighter, the air fresher, my confidence higher. I’m glad I decided to take the piece of jewelry off and wish I would have done so a long time ago.
Yes, I’m breaking rules, but I feel as though I’ve somehow sprouted wings and am soaring on my own.
Don’t let the butterfly out indeed.
Chapter 3
A Dangerous Game
Ryler
As we make the twenty-minute drive toward the club the concert is taking place at, I debate whether taking Emery out was a stupid plan or a fucking brilliant one. Perhaps both. Regardless, what’s done is done. There’s no going back now, despite my fear. There are going to be some major repercussions if Doc catches us, since he’s given me strict orders not to let Emery out of her apartment at night unless he approves the trip.
Luke, Violet, Emery, and I are piled in my Dodge Challenger. Luke is driving since he’s a recovering alcoholic and always assigns himself as the designated driver. He offered to drive his truck, but it’s a single cab and has a
habit of breaking down at least once a week.
“Your car’s pretty badass,” he remarks, revving the gas at a stoplight.
“Yeah, it is. My dad tried to keep it when I moved out here,” I sign to him from the passenger seat. “But I told him to go fuck himself since I’m the one who paid to get it fixed up.”
“Good. Your dad’s a fucking asshole.” Luke hammers the gas, and the tires spin as the car rips through the intersection.
“That he is,” I agree, glancing behind me at Emery.
Violet is in the backseat with Emery, staring out the window. The two of them haven’t uttered a word to each other, which isn’t surprising. Violet is an intense girl and doesn’t get along very well with others. Honestly, I think if the two of them gave each other a chance, they’d get along just fine. Both have had shitty lives and it seems like enough to strike up a conversation.
“So, now can you tell me where we’re going?” Emery asks, interrupting my thoughts.
Violet turns her head and gives me a look. “You haven’t told her where we’re going?”
I nonchalantly shrug. “I want to surprise her.”
Violet’s expression darkens with amusement. “How very boyfriendy of you.”
I roll my eyes, but a trace of a smile reaches my lips. I move my hand to sign that we’re just friends, but Emery beats me to the punch.
“We’re just friends,” she tells Violet. “And maybe not even that.”
“What does that even mean?” Violet wonders, staring at Emery through the darkness of the cab. “You’re like fuck buddies or something?”
Emery and I exchange a look, and then Emery quickly shakes her head. “No, not even close,” she replies to Violet then faces the window, letting her hair fall to the side of her face.
I think she might be blushing, and what I wouldn’t give to be able to see it.
“Say whatever you want,” Violet singsongs, crossing her arms and grinning. “But I don’t believe you.”
“You’re trying to cause trouble,” I sign to Violet, shooting her a warning look.
“I’m trying to put the truth out there,” she signs back, discreetly nodding her head in Violet’s direction. “You want her. You’re just afraid for some reason.”
“I’m not afraid.” My hands move firmly in front of me.
“Yes, you are,” she signs persistently. “You’re afraid to have something you want because you’re afraid of losing it. Trust me, I know these things because it’s how I used to be.”
She’s so very wrong. If I could, I’d take Emery in my arms and kiss her until she became breathless, like I did a few times before shit hit the fan. Now, she barely looks at me.
Even if she did allow me to kiss her, Doc would kill me if he found out. According to him, Emery is meant to be with Evan, her once ex-boyfriend. The two of them have gotten back together over the last few weeks, even though it’s apparent Emery loathes him. She cringes every time he touches her, frowns every time he looks at her, and tenses every time he speaks to her.
“He’s not afraid of himself,” Emery abruptly says, apparently watching my and Violet’s conversation. “He’s afraid of me.”
The cab grows awkwardly quiet, and I rotate back around in my seat and crank up some music. We make the rest of the drive in silence, and I get lost in my thoughts, wondering if that’s what Emery thinks, that I’m afraid of her. Her father, yes. Her, no fucking way.
I need to tell her that’s not true.
Ten minutes later, we’re filing into the club. The music is deafening, but in the best way possible, vibrating the floor and my chest. The air smells like salt and alcohol, and the lighting is hypnotically low.
Emery pauses in the entryway, staring wide-eyed at the crowded dance floor. “Holy shit,” her lips mouth. Her gaze finds the stage where the singer is belting lyrics into the microphone, and she stares at him with her lips parted.
I dip my lips toward her, grab her hand, and trace on her palm the words, “Is that a good shock or a bad one?”
She shivers from my touch. “Good shock.” She peers over her shoulder and our lips nearly brush. It’s the closest we’ve been to each other since Doc told her who I am. I want to eliminate the rest of the space between us, pull her closer, and devour her with my lips. Fear stops me, though. “Thank you. I’ve never been to a concert before.”
I step to the side of her to sign, “I didn’t think so.” Then I place my hand on the small of her back and steer her toward Violet and Luke who are standing at the bar in the midst of a clusterfuck of people.
“This band is crazy good!” Violet shouts over the music then leans over the counter to flag the bartender down.
A middle-aged guy with a thick beard strolls over to Violet to take her order, unsubtly checking her out. Luke inches forward and drapes an arm around Violet, claiming her. The bartender decides to back off, but his gaze ends up on Emery, staring at her in a way that makes my blood boil.
Emery is an outrageously gorgeous girl who turns a lot of heads. Unlike how Luke did with Violet, I can’t claim her because she’s not mine.
“What do you guys want?” Violet hollers, flipping her red and black hair off her shoulder as she turns to us. “Unless you guys want to order for yourselves.” She shoots me a teasing smirk, knowing Emery and I are underage and can’t order our own drinks.
“Are we going big or going home?” I ask Violet, for once glad I have to sign because it’s too damn loud to try to talk.
“Let’s go big!” Violet shouts, fist pumping the air.
Luke shakes his head, stifling a laugh. “I’m going to have my hands full, aren’t I?” He pulls her closer as she aims a devious grin at him.
I sign to Violet, “Shot of Jäger all around?” I glance back at Emery.
“I’ve never done shots except that one time at your place,” she admits, seeming embarrassed.
“We don’t have to drink at all,” I sign. “We can go listen to music and still have fun.”
She slowly shakes her head, deciding. “No, I want to do this.”
“Are you sure? Because we can just drink water, or Violet can get you a beer if you want.”
“No,” she replies firmly, straightening her stance. “I want to do shots.”
When I still appear uncertain, Violet swats my arm. “Let the girl have fun, Ryler. Jesus.” Then she turns back to the bartender and orders three shots of Jäger.
The bartender fills our order, and the three of us throw back the shots. We slam our glasses down on the bar, and I restrain a laugh when Emery shudders and chokes on a cough.
“You good?” I check.
She nods with her hand pressed to her chest.
Violet orders us another round and then another. Emery’s confidence seems to grow with each shot as she sucks each one down easier
“I feel so nice and warm inside,” Emery remarks as she places the empty shot glass down on the counter.
Violet gives her a high five, and then they both bust up laughing, stumbling around as they work to catch their breaths. Like Emery, Violet isn’t the biggest drinker.
“We’re going to have our hands full tonight,” Luke comments with amusement, leaning against the counter. “Aren’t we?”
“Yeah, maybe.” I look over at Violet and Emery who are giggling about something, as if they’re best friends sharing a secret. I just hope Emery doesn’t find out how we are really connected. The last thing I need is to have to explain to Luke and Violet what’s going on.
“Let’s go get a table,” Violet declares after ordering another round of shots and paying the bartender. “Or should we go dance?”
Luke stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks back on his heels, looking utterly amused. “Whatever you want.”
“Let’s dance, then.” She throws back the drink in her hand, sets the glass down, and then the two of them disappear in the crowd.
Emery’s gaze slides to me. “What are we going to do?”
>
A thousand dirty thoughts cross my mind, but I can’t act on any of them.
“We are going to finish our drinks.” I raise the glass, and she clinks hers against mine.
I watch her as she lifts the brim to her lips, sucks the drink out, and then places the glass down. “It’s starting to taste better.” She wipes her lips with the back of her hand.
“That’s because you’ve had four.” I tip my head back, devour my drink, and then slip my free hand through Emery’s. Then I leave the empty glass on the counter and tug her through the mob of intoxicated people.
Untamed Page 2
