A Little Bit Wicked (The Wickeds

by Melissa Foster

  She headed into the bedroom with a bounce in her step. That bounce was new, too, and man, he loved seeing her so happy. He went into the living room and began making the fire. Over the last few days he’d discovered just how organized Chloe was. The clothes in her closet were separated by type and style, her shoes were neatly lined up and separated by type and color. In the kitchen, glasses were on a separate shelf from mugs, and she didn’t have a typical junk drawer. All of her kitchen drawers had organizers. The dining room cabinet was full of scrapbooking supplies, labeled and meticulously organized by theme. Although right now the dining room table was covered with animal boards she was making for the adoption event. She’d been working like a fiend to prepare a board for each animal, and they were gorgeous. Of course, Chloe being Chloe, she’d made a checklist of the animals, their personalities, and all of their pertinent information, which would be listed on the boards and also available on flyers.

  Her organization didn’t stop there. In the living room, there were two closed cabinets in the bottom half of her bookshelves. She’d adhered vinyl to the interior of one, and put a fireplace grate inside. She had wood stacked there, and beneath the grate she’d piled kindling. The other cabinet was stacked with fire starters, newspapers, two lighters, and metal skewers, which she’d said were for roasting marshmallows. For some reason, knowing she was as neat and organized as he was—at least in his house and office—endeared her to him even more.

  He made the fire, and Chloe came out of the bedroom a few minutes later looking sexy and cozy in black leggings that hugged her curves, the Prince Charming shirt she’d bought the other day, and blue fuzzy socks. She held up her index finger and disappeared into the laundry room. When she came out, she was carrying the gray sweatpants he’d left there the other night.

  “I washed these yesterday. Why don’t you give me your wet clothes and I’ll throw in a load?”

  “You’ve been trying to get me naked since that first night on the beach,” he said as he took off his wet jeans. He stripped off his briefs, and her eyes went dark with desire, but her cheeks flamed pink. He’d never tire of that mix of innocence and temptress.

  “Put that thing away right now, you wicked man,” she said with a laugh. “We need food and warmth before I let your python in my garden!”

  “That’s definitely not the reaction I was hoping for.” He chuckled and pulled on his sweats. “Your eyes say yes. How about they have a chat with that naughty mouth of yours?”

  “Leave my traitorous eyes out of this, and maybe later you’ll have a visit from my naughty mouth.” She snagged his clothes and headed into the laundry room.

  A LONG WHILE later, they were sitting on the floor in front of the fire, their backs against the couch, surrounded by scrapbooks, their bellies full of pizza. Though Justin hadn’t found any hidden pictures of himself, he’d taken a visual tour of Chloe’s childhood through her college years. He’d seen a plethora of attendance and honor roll certificates and other awards his academic beauty had earned. There were pictures of her as a teenager when she’d gone through what she called her badass stage, dressed in all black, with gothlike makeup. He’d asked her where that wild girl was now, and she’d said she’d been more tough than wild, and he was bringing back the best parts of her. He’d learned that Chloe hadn’t gone to her senior prom, choosing instead to stay home in case Serena got caught with one of her mother’s boyfriends around. It made him sad that she’d missed so much of her youth, but at the same time, he admired her even more for all she’d overcome. They’d gone through pictures from her middle and high school graduations, each one accompanied by a photo of her and Serena. Serena held a sign in each that read SHE DID IT! They also had pictures of them celebrating with a cake they’d made together. Even though Chloe had lived at home for the first two years of college so she could be with Serena, she’d still applied to four-year colleges, and she’d kept all of her acceptance letters. She said they were proof that one day she’d be free of her mother, of that house, and of that life. She had no pictures of her mother, which was as heartbreaking as it was proof of her strength, even as a young girl.

  There were a few pictures of Chloe with Drake’s family when they were younger, but not as many as he’d thought he’d find. Those came later, in the albums they were looking through now, when she’d reconnected with them after college. These pages were filled with a different, more confident and less haunted Chloe.

  Justin turned the page, revealing a picture of Chloe standing in front of her car, the keys dangling from her finger. Serena stood beside her with a handwritten sign that read IT’S HERS! and had an arrow pointing to Chloe. Neither one could have looked prouder.

  “Rick took that picture for us.” Chloe snuggled against Justin’s side and said, “I’ll never forget how it felt to sign the papers and buy that car. I had saved every penny for a down payment, and I was terrified to have that much debt, but at the same time, it was exhilarating to have earned the right to have that loan.”

  Justin kissed her temple and said, “I know that feeling.”

  “Serena and I celebrated with huge ice cream sundaes, and that evening we sat in my car listening to the radio, looking out over the dunes at the water. It’s one of my best memories. She’s been there for all of my big moments.”

  Chloe turned the page to a picture of her and Serena standing in front of LOCAL. Serena held a sign that read SHE GOT THE JOB! with an arrow pointing at Chloe. Around the picture, Chloe had written information about the dates she’d volunteered at LOCAL, the people she’d interviewed with, the date she was hired, her start date for work.

  “Serena’s bestie, Mira, took that picture for us the day I was hired. I was so nervous even though I’d been volunteering there. When they called to say I got the job, I cried. I had applied to a few places, just to be safe, but my heart had already belonged to the people there.”

  “Did that Rogers asshole hire you?” Saying his name was like scratching nails down a chalkboard.

  “Yes. I mean, he made the final decision, but I had to pass interviews with everyone—human resources, Alan, Darren Rogers, who is Alan’s father and the CEO of LOCAL, the board of directors. Why?”

  Justin’s jaw clenched.

  She touched his cheek and said, “I know he rubs you the wrong way, but you’re not going to get all worked up over him right now. Especially when there’s more to see.” She turned the page, showing him pictures of her, Serena, and Mira huddled together for a selfie at Undercover. “The night I was hired, we celebrated so long we closed down the bar. Rick and Drake had to come drive us home.”

  “My girl got a little wild, did she?”

  “I didn’t drink that much, but I wasn’t going to take any chances in my new car. Not when all my hard work was finally paying off. I was never the kind of girl who partied or got drunk in college. I was always too focused on getting good grades, volunteering, working for spending money. Doing all the things that would help me to achieve a safe, stable future. There were bumps and bruises along the way, a bad decision or two, but I had made it. For the first time ever, I allowed myself one night of sheer, unadulterated fun. I let everything go that night. I laughed and danced, and we talked to everybody in the bar. I didn’t pick up any guys or anything like that. I was just free to have fun, not worrying about what I had to do the next day or anything else. I had a foreseeable future, and it was the future I wanted. It was an amazing feeling. Almost as amazing as this.”

  Chloe turned the page to a picture of her standing in front of her cottage holding a SOLD sign, smiling brighter than the sun. Serena stood beside her with an enormous bouquet of balloons, holding a sign that read IT’S HERS! with an arrow pointing to Chloe. Justin scanned her notes written around the picture, telling the story of how she’d seen the house listed almost five years ago and had fallen in love with it at first sight. She turned the page, showing him more celebratory pictures with Serena, Mira, Drake, and Rick. “That was our other wild n
ight. I figured I earned it.”

  “You should cut loose like that more often, make up for all the times you missed.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It seems childish now to need to celebrate like that, but I do enjoy going out with the girls when we can find the time.”

  “It’s not childish, babe. I’m not talking about drunk driving and reckless behavior. I’m talking about enjoying life and reaping the rewards of all your hard work. Letting all your responsibilities go for a night. It’s good for your soul.”

  “I never see you cut loose.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “When?”

  “When I ride. That’s the thing that allows me to let all the stress and bad thoughts go.” He leaned into her and said, “And riding with you makes it that much better.”

  “I love riding. I never thought I’d enjoy giving up control like that, but it’s freeing, and I know I’m safe with you. Maybe scrapbooking is my cut-loose thing, because I’m not a partier.”

  “As much as I like hearing that you love riding and letting me take control—we’ll explore that more in the bedroom—”

  “Oh, you think you can just drop that there and get away with it?”

  “There’s no getting away with anything, darlin’.” He squeezed her thigh and said, “Want to talk about it? Hit the bedroom and see how much control you’d like to relinquish?”

  She laughed.

  “You did taunt me with your naughty mouth.” He leaned in for a kiss and said, “You’re blushing.”

  “No kidding, you wicked thing. Stop. We’re having a serious talk here.”

  “Oh, right. Okay, back to that.” He tried to push those delicious ideas aside and said, “As much as you enjoy scrapbooking, that’s not how you cut loose. You don’t have to be a partier to let all your worries go and enjoy the moment. I know how much you love to dance, sweet cheeks, and you know how much I love watching, or dancing, with you. That’s where you cut loose. We can go out and burn up the dance floor.”

  She fanned her face and said, “We need a private dance floor when we get started.”

  He brushed his lips over hers and said, “That can be arranged.”

  THEY RETURNED THE scrapbooks to the shelves, and as they got comfortable on the blankets again, settling in with their backs against the couch and their legs outstretched in front of the fire, Chloe said, “I wish you had more pictures and things from before you went to live with the Wickeds so we could make you a keepsake of the good memories.”

  “My good memories are so few and far between, they wouldn’t fill the smallest of albums.”

  She laced their hands together and said, “You mentioned that your mom used to sing to you. Do you remember what she sang?”

  His eyes softened, and he said, “She loved the Beatles. She couldn’t sing when my father was around because it irritated him, but when he wasn’t there, she’d sing ‘Blackbird,’ ‘All You Need Is Love,’ ‘Penny Lane,’ ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,’ ‘With a Little Help from My Friends.’ There were so many songs, and always the Beatles, but when she put me to bed every night, she’d sing ‘Blackbird’ and ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand.’ After I grew up, I realized that there were probably messages in those songs. When she sang ‘Blackbird,’ I think she was telling me to take all of my broken parts and fly away, but she could have been saying she was going to take her broken parts and fly away.”

  She ran her thumb over the back of their joined hands and said, “Maybe she was saying both.”

  “Maybe. When she sang ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand,’ she changed ‘be your man’ to ‘be your mom,’ and I think she was telling me that I was the thing that made her the happiest.” He moved his left arm in front of them and touched his leather bracelet with the fingers on his other hand without letting go of her hand. “This was her necklace. She never took it off. She’d lie next to me at bedtime, and I’d play with her necklace. When she sang ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand,’ she’d snag my hand and wiggle it, and I’d laugh. I remember the rush of anticipation of waiting for her to do it because when I laughed, she laughed, and that was a beautiful thing. Back then it was everything. I’d tug my hand free and play with the necklace again, only to have her recapture it. The image in my head of my father is of a miserable bastard, but I can still see my mom wiggling my hand and smiling…” His voice trailed off, and he gazed into the fire with a thoughtful expression, as if he were lost in the memory.

  “I wish I’d known her.” She wished she and Justin had known each other when they were younger. Maybe they could have made sense of their awful situations and found a way out.

  “She was timid as a baby bird, but I never doubted her love in the same way I never thought my father had an ounce of love for either of us.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  “You didn’t. Those are my best memories, bedtime with my mom. ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ is all about feeling happy inside when he’s holding her hand or when they’re touching. My mother’s life was so boxed in and awful, I guess I was her only happiness.”

  “Of course you were. You were her little boy. Her island.”

  The muscles in his jaw bunched, and he shook his head. “No.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because I couldn’t save her. She was always drifting at sea. She never had a chance to find an island.”

  “I know you feel guilty because you think she committed suicide to give you a chance in life, but you were only a little boy.”

  “It’s so much bigger than that, Chloe.”

  “I don’t understand.” She touched his bracelet and said, “Did she give you this before she died?”

  He shook his head. “No. Before she died, she said she was going to take a nap, so I lay down with her. I wasn’t allowed in their bed, but my father was out, and he wasn’t supposed to come home until later that night. So I took a chance. I remember seeing empty pill bottles on her nightstand, and when she was drifting off to sleep, she mumbled something about going to see her father. I thought she was dreaming because she’d told me that my grandparents were dead. When I woke up, I thought she was still sleeping, so I tiptoed into the living room and I guess I watched television or played. I don’t really remember what I did. But I remember looking out the window at some point and realizing it was nighttime. I went to wake her up because I was hungry. She was lying on her back, and when I touched her, her head rolled to the side and vomit dripped out.”

  “Oh my God, Justin…” she said in a choked voice as more tragic pieces of his past came together.

  “She’d thrown up in her sleep and choked on it. I remember shaking her, and at some point I must have realized she was gone. I don’t remember much about what happened next other than thinking my father was going to kill me because I’d let her fall asleep and she’d died. I don’t know what else was going through my head, but I took her necklace and hid it under my mattress. And then I hid under my blankets.”

  Tears slid down Chloe’s cheeks as she imagined Justin as a terrified a little boy, having lost his mother and fearing for his own life.

  “Other than a therapist I saw when I was a teenager, nobody knows I was there. Not even Preacher and Reba.”

  “They don’t know?”

  “No, and I want to keep it that way. My father lied and said I was out with him when she died, so it wasn’t in my file. I think he was afraid he’d get in trouble if I was there.”

  “He lied? That’s awful making a kid keep a secret like that. What did he do when he came home?”

  Justin shrugged. “I don’t know. Paced, cursed, told me what to say and how to act.”

  “That sounds scary for a kid. But why would you want to keep that bottled up when Rob and Reba are so good to you? Were you worried they wouldn’t want to help you through all of those feelings?”

  “No. Of course they’d want to help. But all that went down years before I even met the
m. I’ve gone through enough therapy where I did talk about this to know that more talking isn’t going to help. It’s all in the past now. It happened, and it’s over.”

  She turned toward him and said, “Why did you tell me?”

  “Because I don’t want secrets between us, and you wanted to know my good memories.”

  “I’m glad you did, but I think your parents—Rob and Reba—deserve to know.”

  “Maybe one day.”

  He inhaled deeply and exhaled a long breath, as if he felt better having gotten it off his chest. She hoped he did.

  “What I can’t figure out is why she fell for my father in the first place. He was a total tool.”

  His voice and face were so serious, Chloe knew this was a long-torturing struggle. She had a torturous secret of her own, and while she didn’t have anything to offer to ease the guilt and pain of being present when his mother had died, her secret just might help Justin find this answer. Her chest constricted as she mustered all her courage and said, “Sometimes people aren’t who they seem. They change over time.”

  “Not that much.”

  She held his gaze, willing herself to be strong, and said, “Exactly that much. You know how I said I had some bumps and bruises and had made a few bad decisions?”

  He sat up a little straighter, nodding. “Yeah.”

  “Did I tell you that I had been to the Salty Hog once before meeting Mads there?” She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the thundering in her chest.

  “No. I don’t like the look in your eyes, Chloe. What are you getting at?”

  Of course he saw her pain. He noticed everything about her.

  “When I was in my last semester of community college, I went out with this guy, a mechanic. He was big, confident, and rough around the edges. We went out for about three weeks. He was a gentleman. Not like Mr. Perfect or anything, but as far as twenty-two-year-old guys go, I guess he was above average. He knew how to treat me right, or so I thought. Until we went to meet his friends at the Salty Hog for dinner one night. I wasn’t old enough to drink, but he and his friends were. I thought he’d had a good time, but when we left he started accusing me of flirting with his friends. At first I thought he was kidding. His buddies had their girlfriends with them. But by the time we got to his car, he was fuming. I tried to calm him down and said something about him not seeing clearly because he’d had so much to drink.” Her hands were shaking, remembering how he’d changed in the blink of an eye. “I had barely gotten the sentence out when he hit me.”