Not again.
It’s impossible for me to guess how many times those words have run through my head so far. Ten hours on the road, speeding through fucking Nebraska of all places, and he’s still with me, breathing so softly I have to put a finger beneath his nose to make sure he’s not dead.
I turn off the highway onto a dirt road, following the slurred instructions he gave me the last time he was lucid. Go a mile or two and you’ll see a farmhouse with a rocking chair on the porch and a small cabin just off the driveway. There’s a dog, but he’ll be nice to you.
“Fox?” I nudge his arm, hoping I took the correct turn.
Finally, a house comes into view. It’s just like he described it would be. Two stories tall, white, with a smaller cabin. No dog in sight, though, but I spot the rocking chair. I check the clock on the dash. It’s just after five in the morning. Hopefully, Barbara Clark is a morning person.
I park in the driveway and detach my seatbelt. “Fox?” I ask.
He doesn’t move.
I force the tears down and step outside into the driveway. “Come on, Fox. Please…”
I pull open his door and tap his face to wake up him. His eyes flutter open. I sigh with relief.
“We’re here, Fox. It’s gonna be okay…”
He falls forward and leans into me as I stand him up. I carry us across the drive with heavy feet, struggling every single step of the way. When we reach the porch, Fox tries to help, barely raising his feet to hobble up the stairs. I adjust my arm and knock hard on the front door.
“Hello?” I cry out. I knock again, struggling to hold him steady. “Is anybody here?”
The door opens and an elderly woman stares at me through the screen door, along with a large husky dog attached to her hip.
“Are you Barbara Clark?” I ask her.
She studies my face with a raised brow. “Are you Roxie Roberts?”
I breathe a laugh. “Yeah.”
Her eyes fall on Fox and concern fills her face.
“He…” I pause.
Christ, how do I even begin to explain this?
She pushes the screen door open. “Bring him in,” she says without question.
I carry him inside, feeling his weight increase on my shoulder with each step.
“Put him on the table.”
She passes through the dining room toward the back of the house while I slide him onto the thick, wooden dinner table.
“Take his clothes off, honey,” she calls from the other room.
I hesitate, feeling a sting of embarrassment before obeying with trembling fingers. He shifts slowly with the movements, partially aware of his surroundings as I peel the layers off. His lips part with hisses of pain, especially when I manage to get his shirt off his shredded backside. The dog lingers near my feet, his senses on full alert with his tail wagging back and forth, but he shows no hostility toward me.
I look at the cobra tattoo. I can’t help but touch the dark, black ink again. His skin feels cold and hard like he’s already dead.
I try not to think about that.
I keep moving, ignoring my swelling eyes. Each groan of pain from him brings the tears closer to the surface. I can barely look at his wrecked body, but I somehow manage to keep my shit together. I slide his pants down to his ankles and a flash drive tumbles from his pocket onto the floor. I grab it and pile his bloody clothes — everything but his boxers — beneath the table and wait for her to come back.
When she does, she carries a large bucket of warm water, several towels, a sewing kit, and a doctor bag that looks about as old as she is. “Are you squeamish, dear?” she asks as she drops it all on the table.
“Probably,” I answer.
“You’ll get over that pretty quick.” She grins at me and then looks down at Fox. “Now, what’s he gone and got into now?”
My tongue twitches in my mouth. “I, uh…”
She leans over his shoulder. “That’s a gunshot wound.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Help me roll him onto his side.”
She scoots her hands behind his back and waits for me to reach across him. I move with my eyes on her, following her nods of approval until I grip his side.
“Just like that,” she says.
I pull him up and I try not to watch the grimace spreading across his lips.
“Oh, goody! An exit wound,” she says. “That’s what I like to see. Hold him steady for me.”
I keep my hands on his side as she opens her doctor bag.
“You sound… excited,” I say.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve treated one of these.”
“You’re a doctor?”
“Retired nurse.”
I look at Fox’s face as so many unanswered questions plague my mind. Who the hell is this woman and how does Fox know her? Why did we drive over seven hundred miles to get here when we passed dozens of hospitals on the way? What the hell is this place?
She wets a towel to clean the blood off his skin. “Do you pluck?”
I blink. “Do I what?”
“Pluck. Your eyebrows.”
I nod with confusion. “Yes.”
She gestures me around the table to stand beside her and she hands me a pair of large, metal tweezers. “He has a few pieces of glass in his back. See what you can do.”
I stand over him, completely frozen, trying to figure out if I heard her correctly. His back has several long, deep cuts and I spot the small shards sticking out of his skin. I cringe. He had them in him this whole time.
“It’s just like plucking eyebrows?” I ask.
“Pretty much.”
She reaches into the doctor bag and slides a bottle of whiskey toward me.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
“You drink it, honey.”
I twist the cap off and pour a large portion down my throat.
Chapter 26
Dani
Then
I knock twice on his door and wait. The sound echoes down the dark hallway, diminishing quickly throughout the empty house. Dad and Cora are out of town until morning. My friends, if I can even call them that, left an hour ago. They didn’t exactly come to my birthday party because they wanted to. They came here for selfies with the movie star.
Roxie this. Roxie that.
I’d rather spend my birthday with the one person who doesn’t care about her.
The door opens and Fox smiles. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I say, my cheeks pinking in the dark.
“The fan club go home?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah.”
He nods and steps back into his room, leaving the door open for me. I follow him in, slowly putting my back to him as I close the door behind us. The act alone feels dirty, like I should be ashamed of myself for wanting to be alone with him.
Maybe I should.
“Get anything nice for your birthday?” Fox asks over my shoulder.
I swallow and turn around. “No,” I answer. “Not really.”
He smirks. His eyes drift to my lips. A subtle gesture for sure, but it always hits me like a truck.
Fox Fitzpatrick. The boy down the hall.
Secret make-out partner.
He’s looked at me differently ever since that day at the pier, but only in private. In the halls at Belle, he was the same devil may care jock everybody loves. At the dinner table, he’s the same sarcastic jackass my father hates.
It’s different when we’re alone. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes, the stars will align just right. I’ll have a day off from being Roxie. Our parents will be out for the night.
And Fox will leave his door open for me.
Christ, this is dirty.
Fox nudges my chin. “You okay?”
I nod, already breathless. “Yeah.”
His smirk remains as his hand touches my hip. It curls around me, coming to rest on the small of my back. I tilt my head up and close my eyes, easing into his embra
ce. It’s such a familiar place by now, but I still fear I could fall over at any moment.
Fox kisses the edge of my mouth. I part my lips and he kisses me again, firm and wild. He steps forward and I fall back against the door. His arms keep me pinned in place between them. I swoon as my heart flutters and my goosebumps spread.
Happy Birthday to me.
Fox pulls me against him and takes several steps back. I move with him, our lips entwined as he guides me to sit on the edge of his bed. He sits beside me with one hand on my cheek and the other planted on my thigh. My skin tingles beneath my jeans, his touch igniting my nerves.
His kiss moves to my cheek and he draws a line toward my neck. I tremble with open eyes, swallowing hard as I glance over his shoulder. His computer is on across the room.
I squint to read the browser window. “UCLA?” I ask.
Fox pulls away, but he doesn’t turn. “Yeah,” he says.
“Really?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Why not?”
“I just… figured you’d want to go back up the coast for school.”
“I don’t know,” he says, clearly uninterested in talking.
I won’t push it. He’s already missed several admissions deadlines, according to the arguments I’ve overheard with his mother. He graduated from Belle a few months ago. No job. No real college plans. No ambition.
A part of me is grateful to still have him around. Perhaps more than just a part.
I almost wish he’d never leave.
“Besides,” he adds, “LA isn’t so bad. I think I might stick around a while longer.”
I smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he whispers as he leans in and kisses me again.
We fall together into another familiar place. I lie on my back with my head against his pillow while he balances over me with one leg between my knees. He runs his hand along my side, but he doesn’t move it lower. He barely even grazes my breast as our tongues dance. I run my hand up the back of his neck, getting lost in his thick, brown hair.
I’ve never felt ready for any more than this. But, lately…
My heart skips twice. My nerves buzz within me.
I tilt my head, breaking the kiss. “So, I, um… I scheduled another audition,” I say, my gut clenching. “The director asked for me personally.”
“Cool,” he says, his warm breath on my neck as he kisses my chin.
“They’re making that Night Trials book into a movie,” I say. “Dad really wants me to star in it.”
“Let me guess…” Fox looks at me and smirks. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime?”
“He might have mentioned that,” I say, dripping with sarcasm. “Have you read it?”
“No.”
“I’m reading it now. It’s really good.”
“Cool.”
He kisses me on the mouth. I swallow hard.
“There’s a…” I pause as my insides twist into knots. “It seems like there’s a really pivotal love scene in it and I, uh…”
Fox stops.
“I’ve never done one of those before,” I say quickly.
He nods once. “Well, I’m sure you’ll do great,” he says.
“Thanks.” I hold my breath. “I’m just a little freaked out about the idea, I guess.”
“Will there be nudity?” he asks with a devious smile.
“No,” I answer. “I read they want PG-13, but… still. Kissing my co-star is one thing. Being horizontal with them is something else.”
“You’ll be surrounded by professionals the whole time. Nothing to worry about.”
“I know.” I swallow hard. “I was just… thinking that maybe I should… you know, if I wanted it to be believable, then I should…”
“Then, you should…” he repeats, though it’s obvious he understands.
“Yeah,” I say.
He shifts up onto his elbow. “You want to have sex?” he asks.
“Yes.” My breath catches in my throat. “For research!” I add. “I want to… have sex, for research.”
Fox doesn’t say anything. He just lies there and listens. Not an unusual pose for him, but it’s crushing now.
“And I thought that…” I tremble, feeling his eyes on my burning skin. “Since you and I have gotten kind of close and you’ve got loads of experience in that area and you’ve helped me out before kind of, I thought that maybe you and I… might…”
My voice fails me.
God, what the hell am I even thinking coming to him with this? I feel like such an idiot.
A stupid, virgin idiot.
His lips twitch. “You thought that you and I would…”
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
“Actually, you know what?” I force a laugh. “Never mind. I was just kidding.”
I roll off the bed and stand up. My ankles sway beneath me as I make weak strides toward the door.
“Dani,” he says from the bed behind me.
“I’ll just let you get back to whatever you were doing. Sorry.”
“Wait.”
I reach for the door, hoping I can get out of here before I curl into a fetal position and die.
“Dani.”
I turn the doorknob. “No, I’ve gotta—”
Fox practically teleports across the room and slams his palm against the door to hold it closed. “Wait,” he says, laughing softly. “Don’t go yet.”
I deflate and take a step back, feeling so utterly trapped in myself.
Fox exhales. “You’re wrong.”
Yeah. No shit.
I keep my head down as my cheeks catch fire.
“I don’t have… loads of experience,” he says.
Wait, what?
I raise my head. “You don’t?” I ask.
“No.”
“So, you’re a…”
“A virgin, yes.”
“No,” I say.
He nods. “Yes.”
“But…” I blink twice. “How? You’re Fox Fitzpatrick.”
“So?”
“So…” I scoff. “You’re a stud.”
He laughs. “I dated a lot, sure, but…” He looks at me and his smile slowly fades. “I never really wanted any of them in that way.”
I bite my inner cheek. “Not even Trudy Michaels?”
“Especially not Trudy Michaels.”
“Well… why not?”
Fox lowers his hand from the door. “Because I wanted someone else,” he says. “Someone I wasn’t sure I wanted until it was too late to have her.”
He shifts forward and takes my hand. Sparks travel up my fingers, racing toward my elbow as my knees nearly give out beneath me.
“Oh,” I say, swallowing hard.
His other arm curls around me like always. “Sorry if that’s not what you were expecting,” he says.
“No, no. It’s… fine.”
He smiles. “I tried to stop. I tried to shut it off and ignore it, but I can’t.” He looks at my lips, his eyes dark and full of heat. “It’s always been you, Dani.”
I tremble, drawn to him like a magnet. His hand grazes my chin, tilting my face closer to his. I relax. I lean forward. I feel his kiss all the way in the depths of my heart.
I’d carry it with me as we lied down on his bed and undressed each other.
I’d cling to it the next day when his suitcase went missing and his car was gone.
I’d keep it safe in me until the day he died.
Chapter 27
Dani
Now
“Dani?”
I raise my head off the arm of the sofa. The woman shakes my shoulder again, pulling me out of sleep with a blue and white teacup in her other hand.
“Here, honey,” she says, offering it to me.
I sit up and take the cup from her. “Thank you.”
The fragrant tea fills my nose with a steady, warm aroma. I look up and I see Fox lying there on the table in front of me with his eyes still closed, his body bruised and bandaged.
“Is he okay?” I ask, my voice cracking.
She sits down next to me on the love seat. “He’s one tough son-of-a-bitch, that’s for sure,” she muses. “He was talking a few minutes ago.”
“He was?”
She nods. “Kept saying Dani over and over. I figured it out, told him you were fine, and he passed out again.”
I take a sip from the cup. The hot tea shoots through my body and I realize how cold I am. I look at Fox, nearly naked on the table.
“We should get him some clothes,” I say. “Do you have anything?”
“Should be some in his room.”
I pause. “His room?”
She points to the window behind me. I look out at the cabin across the driveway.
“He lives here?” I ask.
“For the last six months now.” She nods slowly, her eyes lingering on his face. “He showed up at my door one day with the local paper in his hand and my ad circled in red. My husband, Larry, died early last year and I was looking for someone to help out around here. He and I lived on this land over fifty years together.”
“I’m sorry.”
She smiles. “I knew there was something special about Fox the moment he stepped inside. Good kid, but he had that sad face on him. He offered to pay a little more in rent if I’d keep quiet if someone came around asking about him.” She chuckles. “I asked him if he planned on killing me in my sleep. He said no.”
I laugh. “I guess that’s why you weren’t surprised when he showed up at your door covered in blood?”
“Not really.” She looks at me. “Now, him showing up covered in blood with a big movie star under his arm? That’s a little surprising.”
I watch his chest rise and fall with his breath.
She eyes the stitches on my cheek. “He rushed out of here a few days ago after he saw the news. I guess that makes sense now, too.”
“He’s my stepbrother,” I explain.
She hums softly and sits back against the cushion. “The plot thickens…”
I set my teacup down. “I’ll go find him some clothes.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Thank you.”
I step outside and tears instantly invade my cheeks. My heart lurches in my chest, so utterly thankful I could scream.
Secret Love Page 13
