After the movie let out, he took my hand and led me to the Expedition. Once I’m seated in the passenger seat, he closes the door and rounds the front of the SUV. Slipping in beside me, he leans forward to start the engine, but my hand closes around his wrist. Lifting a brow, he turns to me.
“Tell me something,” I say softly. “Something I don’t know about you.”
And please don’t let it be about food.
“I’m a pretty open book Carrie, and after three months of spending nearly every day together, I think you know a lot.”
“I don’t know why you decided to follow in your dad’s footsteps. I don’t even know what that actually consists of, I just know you miss it.”
“Frankie never talked to you about the Satan’s Knights?”
I shake my head.
“Not really. I didn’t find out you guys were in a motorcycle club until he asked you for help. I guess I’m just wondering what all the hype is.”
“There’s really no hype. So long as I can remember, I wanted to be a Knight. I wanted to put that vest on and ride with the best. When I was a kid, I think it had a lot to do with all the attention my father gave his brothers. I guess I wanted a piece of that.”
“You wanted your Dad's attention, that’s why you joined the club?”
He shrugs.
“Yeah, I guess I did. I know you think my dad is some superhero or something, but it took him a long time to be the man you see now. Frankie has no regard for the club because Sophie kept him as far away as possible from it. It’s really no surprise that she picked up and moved with Frankie at the first sign of trouble, she’s been doing that her whole life.”
He pauses, leaning back against the seat as he continues to explain.
“Uncle Jack had a son, Jack Jr, and he died when he was just two. It had nothing to do with the club, the kid had run out of the house and got hit by a car, but Sophie wasn’t hearing it. She was sure that somehow the club was to blame for Junior's death, and it fucked her up. She and my dad were just dating at the time but, she told him if they got married, she wasn’t having kids with him. Two years after Junior’s death, Sophie got pregnant and I think my dad thought she was over what had happened to Junior, that she had made peace with it…but once he was born, she lost her fucking mind. It’s like nothing in the world existed but Frankie.”
“Does Frankie know any of this?”
He shrugs.
“I don’t know. I never told him, and I don’t think Enzo did. It’s probably a good thing, as extreme as she was, she raised him right. He’s the only one out of the three of us with a good head on his shoulders.”
“That’s not true,” I tell him. “You know what pisses me off about you? You never give yourself credit. You’re too hard on yourself, Nico. You may not be the brother with a scholarship, but you’re a good person.”
He sighs.
“Stop saying I’m a good person, Carrie.”
“Stop saying you’re not.”
“A good person wouldn’t look at his brother’s girlfriend like I do. He wouldn’t want her with every fucking fiber of his being. He’d back the fuck off, not break the rules and take her out, pretending she’s his the entire night.”
“Then we’re both not good people because I’ve been wondering what it would be like if I was yours the whole night.”
He swallows at my confession.
“Well, lucky for us, the night is over,” he says hoarsely before turning his eyes to the steering wheel. Taking in a sharp breath, he leans forward and starts the car.
I don’t know if lucky is the right word, but we didn’t cross any lines.
Maybe we’re not as bad as we think.
Maybe we’re just human.
Nico puts the car in drive and peels out of the lot. As he veers onto the highway, I lean forward and turn the music on. Searching for a song, I settle on Higher Love by Whitney Houston and Kygo. It’s pretty amazing how someone can release a hit song years after her death.
I hum along with the beat, listening to the words, finding new meaning in them.
We walk the line and try to see
Falling behind what could be.
Those two lines make me think. Every day, no matter who we are, we’re tested. Our strength. Our values and our morals. Relationships and love…they’re all tried. Sometimes we veer off the initial path and we immediately think we’ve failed, but what if that isn’t the case?
What if we were on the wrong path or what if we weren’t meant to stay in that lane? We tell ourselves there is a line between right and wrong and that it shouldn’t be crossed, but what happens if we don’t cross it? If we don’t take chances.
Are we just supposed to wonder what if?
How is that right?
My thoughts are interrupted when Nico pulls the SUV into the garage. Killing the engine, he also turns out the headlights, then he turns to me.
“Well, we survived,” he says.
Is that all we’re meant to do? Are we put here simply to survive?
To exist.
He gets out of the car and I watch as he rounds the front of the truck.
Are you going to make the first move… that’s the only way this happens?
Nico opens the door and tips his chin to the seatbelt still stretched across my belly.
“You gonna take it off?” he asks, and I turn to him. Following his gaze, I look at the belt, slowly reaching to my side to release it. It snaps back into place, but I don’t move. My gaze drifts from his extended hand to his expectant eyes.
“You ever wonder what if?” I ask him hoarsely.
“What?”
“What if I didn’t rob my dad’s old car that night to get Saltine’s? What if I didn’t see you standing on that ledge?”
“Carrie…”
I lift my hand, touching my finger to his lips and silence him before continuing.
“What if we were both put on that overpass to cross the line?”
Inching closer to him, I watch his eyes darken as I lift my other hand to his face.
Are you going to make the first move… that’s the only way this happens?
With a strength I didn’t know I could possess, I close the distance between us and take the leap, pressing my lips to his. I hold them there for a moment, unable to move and I just feel.
They fit.
His lips fit against mine perfectly.
A groan sounds and I’m not sure if it comes from me or if it comes from him. All I know is I need more. He lifts his hands and threads his fingers through my hair, holding me in place as my lips part, inviting him to explore.
He doesn’t accept the invitation, though.
Are you going to make the first move… that’s the only way this happens?
With my heart racing and every nerve in my body tingling, I drop my hands to his shirt, fisting it as I draw him closer and run my tongue across the seam of his lips.
Another groan sounds and this time I’m certain it belongs to him.
He opens his mouth and I waste no time pushing my tongue inside, taking and tasting.
Burning,
Aching.
Begging.
His fingers tighten in my hair and he yanks, angling my head as his control snaps and he returns the kiss. Gliding his tongue over mine, he leans into the cab. My legs part to give him more room and he devours me in a way I didn’t know existed until this very moment. Panting, desperate for more, my hands roam his body, stopping at the waistband of his sweats.
Growling into the kiss, he untangles his fingers from my hair. His hands move to my ass and he pulls me close so that I’m hanging off the edge of the seat. He presses deeper, his teeth grazing my lips and then I feel it.
Steel.
So hard and so hot.
I go to slip my hand inside his pants when I feel his hand wrap around my wrist. My eyes flutter open and his brown eyes bore into mine.
“Don’t,” he commands.
“Nic
o,” I pant, watching as he pulls his hands back and holds them up as if he’s surrendering. A tortured expression mars his handsome features and I want to feel guilty but all I feel is the loss of him.
“No,” he grinds out, shaking his head as he pushes his fingers roughly through his head. “Get out of the car, Carrie. Get out of the car and go inside.”
“But—”
“You don’t belong to me,” he spats, anger radiating off him in waves. “Get out of the car.”
“Nico, please…” My plea dies as he tugs the ends of his hair. His gaze full of agony.
“Now, Carrie. I can’t fucking look at you anymore.”
“But—”
“You’re not even sorry,” he hisses, the words like venom.
How can I be sorry when that felt so right?
Tears prick my eyes and I lift my fingers to my swollen lips. The burn of our kiss still lingers.
“Nico, I …”
“If you give the slightest damn about me, you’ll go in that house and leave me the fuck alone.”
His words are a punch to the gut, and I try to find the strength to do as I’m told but leaving him feels wrong. It feels like I’m sacrificing something like I’m forfeiting a piece of myself. A great big chunk of my heart.
“Go, goddamn it!”
He roars, slamming his fist against the hood of the car.
The tears slide from my eyes as I start for the garage door. Reaching it, I wrap my hand around the knob and glance over my shoulder. Through my blurred vision, I watch as he gets back behind the wheel.
“Nico!”
He doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
The headlights turn on temporarily blind me and the garage door begins to lift.
“Nico!” I shout again, stepping away from the door. “Where are you going?”
Again, he doesn’t answer. He slams his foot on the gas and reverses out of the garage. The door automatically closes, and a sob sounds from the back of my throat.
What if crossing the line breaks your heart?
-Twenty-
Nico
Slamming the door, I glance over the hood of the Expedition and peer at the wire fence surrounding the overpass. With my heart in my throat and the feel of Carrie’s lips still branded to mine, I make my way towards the fence. Of all the places I could’ve gone, I don’t know why I came here. I was running from her, and yet here I am, at the place I first saw her. The place where I felt most at peace. She sucked me in with those green eyes and her positive outlook on life and she never let me go.
Even for those two months after I met her before it was revealed that my lifeline was also my brother’s girlfriend, she consumed my thoughts. Imagine that? One conversation. One night. That’s all it took. How the hell didn’t I realize living with her would ruin me.
How the hell didn’t I realize I’d fall in love with her?
I guess the answer is simple, to identify it you would have to have felt it and when Carrie’s mouth touched mine, I realized I hadn’t known love until that very moment. It wasn’t a physical thing. Not really. It was the connection I felt in my bones, the relief that filtered through my body as I kissed her. It was as if every part of my being was telling me the search was over.
Home was found.
My fingers wrap around the slats and I stare at the cars whizzing down the highway.
I don’t want to die.
I just don’t want to feel this pain anymore.
My grip loosens around the fence and I take a step backward. I picture her face, those big green eyes that have fucking become my nirvana and that smile that soothes my soul. Her laugh that echoes even after it’s subsided, warming me in places I didn’t know existed. Then I think of the times I gave into temptation and allowed myself to touch her. The times I pulled her into a hug or held her hand. Those times that burned just as deeply as the time I kissed her neck and tonight when she kissed me.
I didn’t see it coming.
I should’ve, but I didn’t.
And now, I can’t forget it.
I can’t forget what she feels like in my arms.
I can’t forget how she feels lying beside me.
I can’t forget how her hand fits in my mine.
I can’t fucking forget how she tastes.
I can’t forget what it feels like to walk into a room and have her eyes find mine.
I can’t forget what it feels like to open the door and hear her voice greet me.
I can’t fucking forget any of it.
Big or small because every stolen moment filled every empty hole in my heart.
It’s like forgetting to breathe.
Once you do, you’re dead.
Turning around, I lean against the fence and slink down to the ground. I pull my knees up and hang my head. How the hell am I going to face her? How am I going to walk back into that house and pretend?
I can’t. Not no more.
Lifting my head, I slide my hand into the pocket of my sweatpants and pull out my phone. I’m not thinking clearly. I’m acting on pure pain and ignoring logic. Still, I swipe my finger across the screen of my phone and pull up Frankie’s number.
I’m going to lose my brother.
I’m going to tear my family apart.
I hit send and lift my trembling hand to my ear, my chest tightening as it rings.
I’m going to cross the line and take the girl.
I’m going to breathe again.
Because I don’t want to die.
-Twenty-one-
Carrie
I don’t know what to do. I called Nico six times and every time it goes straight to voicemail. It’s been hours since he stormed out of here and I feel like I’m falling apart like I’m drifting out to sea. Lost. Scared. Succumbing to a storm.
I’ve had a lot of people walk away from me.
My mom.
My dad.
Even Frankie.
And I never felt like they were taking pieces of me with them when they walked away. I may have at the time, but that’s only because I had yet to experience this kind of pain. This kind of loss. The kind that cuts so deep you feel it in your bones. The pain so great it suffocates you.
Pacing the living room, I press a hand against my lower back and brush the tears away from my face with the back of my hand. A sickening feeling creeps into my soul and my mind flashes back to the night we first met. To the tormented man who stood on the edge with his heart on his sleeve.
His pain was palpable, so raw.
I gravitated towards it.
There was some greater force aligning the stars that night. That force put two broken people in front of one another and pushed them to see the pain in one another’s eyes.
That force cried to us.
It pleaded with us to recognize the pain, to take it away and to fill the voids neither of us knew were there.
It ached too.
Every time we tried to fight it.
Every time we tried to pull away from each other.
But that force—it was bigger than us. Stronger. It wouldn’t surrender.
It pushed us over the line, into one another’s arms.
That force took two hearts that didn’t belong to one another and cracked them wide open.
And without our consent that force handed those broken shards of our hearts to one another.
What if he’s on that overpass with his heart on his sleeve and the pieces of my heart? I’m not there. I’m not there to take it away. To lift him and tell him it’s okay to be broken. That we’re only human.
My promise not to leave the house rings in my ears, haunting me.
Pulling me back.
But that force…that force pushes me towards the front door. It doesn’t matter I have no idea what I’ll do once I open the door or that it’s the middle of the night and I’m not supposed to leave. It doesn’t matter that I have no means of travel. No means of anything.
&nbs
p; I can’t stay here without him. I need to find him. I need to hold him. I need to feel his hand in mine. I need to look into his eyes. I need to hear his voice. For him to call me Green Eyes.
As I reach the door, I freeze. The sound of a car rolling onto the drive sounds and I breathe a sigh of relief.
He’s back.
He came home to me.
My hand closes around the door and I undo the locks, my heart pounding against my chest. Blinking through my tears, I pull the door open and step into the dark night. My gaze flits to the driveway and my body locks. Dread fills my being, pushing its way up my throat as my father stands on the front lawn, staring at me in shock.
“No,” I shriek, shaking my head. I close my eyes, willing him to disappear, but when I open my eyes, he’s walking towards me.
“Carina,” he shouts. “Oh my God. All this time…you were right here,” he sneers, looking at the house behind me. “With them. I didn’t believe it when the patrolman told me he saw you at the movie theater with the Scotto boy. I didn’t believe it.”
“Go away,” I cry, nothing he says registers.
The need to get to Nico is too fierce.
Too consuming.
It takes me a minute to realize what’s happening. That my father is here, and everything is about to implode. Finally, my brain sends a message to my legs and I start to back away. How did he even find me? Why does he even care? I need him to leave so I can get to Nico.
“Which one of them was it?” he spats, advancing towards me. “Which one of them got you pregnant? Did they rape you? Force you—”
“What? No! No one hurt me. They’ve taken care of me. They took me in when you threw me out.”
“I was angry with you, with myself…but when you called, I offered to take you back in. I was going to provide you with shelter and schooling until you gave birth.”
“You wanted me to give up my baby!”
“That baby is an abomination! Do you know what these people do? What they’ve done? They’re murderers! They’re thieves and apparently, they’re rapists!”
“No one raped me!”
“You’re seventeen,” he hollers. “These are grown, men. Criminals. The lowest scum of the earth.”
Walking The Line (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 3) Page 17
