Keep This Promise

by Willow Winters

  After a few seconds, I realized he had no intention of replying. He didn’t need to. A thick, hot tension I’d never felt before had fallen between us. It pressed on my chest, and my skin felt too tight, too hot.

  Lorna, who had lost her virginity to Xavier Highland last year, had told me that sometimes she just needed to be touched. I didn’t understand what she meant—until now. I needed Jamie to touch me. To soothe this feeling. Somehow, I knew only his touch could.

  It was a long car ride after that, and when we finally pulled up to my apartment complex, I didn’t know what to say to break the loaded moment between us.

  Realizing Jamie wasn’t going to say anything either, I pushed open the door.

  “I’ll, uh—”

  At the sound of his voice, I looked over my shoulder at him.

  “Why don’t you come over to the house after school on Monday? Lorna has track practice then, right?”

  “Right.” I barely got the word out. Lorna had joined the track-and-field team sophomore year. I didn’t know if it was because she liked it or because she thought it would give her something in common with Jamie. I voted the latter.

  “I’ll see you then?” He stared at me with an intensity I’d never seen in his eyes before. It matched the vibe that had sizzled between us the entire car ride. Excitement fluttered its rapid little wings near my heart.

  “See you then. And thanks for the ride. I appreciate it.”

  “I know you do.”

  I moved to leave again and he stopped me with another “hey.”

  I laughed under my breath and turned back to him. “Yeah?”

  But he wasn’t laughing. “Do you have my number?”

  I shook my head.

  “Give me your phone. Anytime you need a ride again, you call me.”

  “Jamie—”

  “No arguments. I don’t like the idea of you being stranded somewhere.”

  Fumbling for my phone, I quickly handed it over. He typed in his number and then called his cell, shifting in his seat to pull it out of his pocket. After a few seconds of fiddling around with it, he handed mine back to me. As I took it, our fingers brushed, and a shock of electricity rippled up my hand.

  My eyes flew to his face to find him staring at me, wide-eyed.

  Like he’d felt it too.

  “I’ll, uh …” His gaze dropped. “See you Monday.”

  Trembling with my reaction to him, I nodded and hopped out of the car. He waited until I walked through the gate into the complex. One look over my shoulder told me he was still waiting.

  Jamie waited until I got all the way to my door before I heard the sound of his Mustang purr.

  I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

  Chapter 4

  JAMIE

  Eighteen years old (almost nineteen)

  * * *

  I was in a hurry to get home. It was the one day of the week we didn’t have practice, and while the guys were all getting ready for some party at a frat house that night, I was heading back to Glendale.

  They called me on it, but I didn’t care.

  There was someone waiting for me at home. Someone who excited me. Someone I couldn’t stop thinking about. Over the last few months, I’d become closer to this person than I’d ever imagined I was capable of.

  Jane.

  She’d asked for the latest chapters of the novel I was writing to distract her from a crazy start to senior year. A friend of Lorna’s had died in a drunk-driving accident. Greta. She was a girl Jane had practically grown up with. They hadn’t been friends. In fact, it was kind of the opposite, but Lorna and Greta had hung out a lot. I knew the past few weeks had been tough on them both for different reasons, and that there was some tension between them. Lorna had a ton of friends to turn to, but Jane didn’t. And I didn’t want her to be alone.

  I liked our secret get-togethers because I loved being around Jane, but I also liked being able to keep my finger on the pulse of what was going on with her.

  We grabbed secret time together whenever we could. That afternoon she was going to tell me what she thought about my chapters. I always got a little nervous because it turned out shy little Jane wasn’t timid about telling me exactly what she thought about my writing. Her critique was always insightful and fair, and it made her praise even more satisfying. I fucking glowed when she rhapsodized about the parts she loved.

  It didn’t surprise me to find Jane curled up on the couch with her laptop open on her lap. Skye gave her a key to the house not long after we’d moved there.

  The tension that had coiled tightly around my muscles as I’d hurried home relaxed immediately.

  “Hey,” I said, dumping my backpack by the coffee table.

  Jane looked up at me with those gorgeous eyes. “Hey.”

  “Lorna at practice?”

  She nodded.

  “Want a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  I frowned at her less than loquacious responses but retrieved bottled water from the refrigerator without questioning it. Instead, I waited until I got to the sectional and sat as close as I could without it being too obvious how close I wanted to be to her.

  The smell of watermelon and some other fruity, undefinable scent tickled my senses. Jane always smelled amazing.

  “What’s up?”

  She heaved a sigh and turned her body toward me, her laptop slipping. She grabbed hold of it and then peered up at me from beneath her lashes. It was a shy, uncertain look. I thought we were past that.

  “What is it?” My tone was more impatient than I meant.

  A frown creased her brow. “Nothing.” She flicked her finger over the mouse pad. “Let’s talk about this book of yours.”

  Realizing I’d fucked up with my attitude, I covered her hand with mine. “Hey, you can tell me.”

  Her gorgeous olive skin turned a little pink on the crest of her cheekbones. I tried not to be smug about it, but I loved that I could make Jane react to me. It made up for the fact that ever since I’d driven her home that night from Malibu, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

  Before that night, I’d realized I was attracted to her. And I didn’t want to be—she was my little sister’s best friend, and there were eighteen months between us. That wasn’t a lot, true. But we were at the awkward place in our ages where I was legal, and she wasn’t.

  I’d tried to ignore my attraction, but it was more than physical. That was the problem. I wanted her, not just because she was beautiful, but because I couldn’t always work her out, and I liked that. She was quiet and thoughtful, and she had the ability to shut me up with her intelligent observations without even raising her voice. Mostly, though, she was smart, cute, authentically herself, and so fucking kind, it was unreal.

  “Jane?” I took my hand off hers since I seemed to have struck her mute with the action.

  Finally, she met my eyes. To my shock, I saw something like guilt in them. “I hate school right now. Everyone is … People are still crying in huddles and constantly talking about Greta. Lorna and her friends are organizing a memorial for the end of the semester, and a drunk-driving campaign, and they keep trying to get everyone to talk about how they’re feeling about Greta’s death.”

  Understanding dawned, along with a deep sense of kinship. “You don’t want to share that shit with people who aren’t your friends.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes filled with relief that I understood, and it took everything within me not to kiss her. “I’m horrified this happened to Greta. But she was not a nice person to me. And she got in a car drunk—we’re lucky she didn’t kill anyone else. I have very mixed feelings about the whole thing, and I don’t want to talk about it. Sometimes what they’re doing doesn’t feel genuine. Like, it’s for attention … Does that make me sound like a bad person?”

  “No.” I frowned. “You and Lorna are different people. Let her draw out the grief with her friends the way she wants to.” I sighed. “You just do you. Like hell I’d want to talk
to people who aren’t my real friends about something like that … If you need to talk, you can talk to me.”

  Jane gave me a grateful smile, the sadness in her eyes dimming but never disappearing. As if she read my thoughts, she whispered, “I just did. And I feel like the shittiest person for feeling only sad instead of heartbroken. And for truly believing Greta’s friends are using her death for attention. There. I said it. I’m a terrible person.”

  I couldn’t help it. I needed to touch her. To comfort her. I reached out and slid my hand along her jaw until I buried it in her hair. I clasped her nape and bent my forehead to hers. Closing my eyes, I breathed her in. She was like oxygen in that moment.

  “You’re not a terrible person. You couldn’t be if you tried. You’re actually the best person I know.”

  I felt her hand curl around my elbow, gripping on to me. My hand tightened around her neck in reaction, the silky strands of her hair tickling my skin. What I wouldn’t give to bury myself inside her. Sex had always been just a relief, a satisfaction. But with Jane … I bet she could take out all her worries and sadness in my body. I’d soak them right up, so she’d never have to feel that way again. Steal moments of euphoria in a time she needed reminding it existed.

  Fuck, I would take on all her sadness and frustrations if I could.

  Realizing if I didn’t let her go, I’d never let her go, I pulled back and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The way she looked at me as I released her made me feel ten feet tall.

  “Do you want to talk about these chapters?” Her voice was lower, a little hoarse with emotion. Its sultry sound caused another flare of heat to shoot from my gut to my groin.

  Fuck.

  Seventeen, I reminded myself. She’s seventeen and tomorrow is my nineteenth birthday.

  Nine months. I could wait nine months for her to turn eighteen. Then there would be no stopping us. Because I wasn’t imagining the two-way attraction, right?

  “Okay.” I gave her a wry grin. “Hit me with it.”

  She returned my grin and then looked at the laptop screen. “Pacing and plotting is excellent.”

  Was it ridiculous how hot I found it when she got all serious about my writing? “Good to know.” I watched her nibble her lower lip and lost focus for a second. Jane had the most beautiful mouth I’d ever seen. Her lips were everything. Full, lush, so fucking kissable. My eyes traveled down her throat, across the expanse of smooth, olive skin revealed by the wide neckline of her T-shirt. Her full tits were a generous handful. She was way too sexy for my own good.

  “Your hero is great. He’s flawed but intriguing. He can be a dick, but he also shows moments of warmth. Between that and how smart he is, you’ve gotten that balance just right.”

  I dragged my dirty, horny gaze off her body and back to her beautiful face. When I wrote women in my books now, they always had a little of Jane in them. Which was why what she said next bothered me.

  “Your heroine, however, needs work.” She shot me an apologetic wince. “She’s a little weak, Jamie.”

  I frowned. “Weak, how?”

  “You spend more time describing her looks than you do the heroes. So right away, you’re setting this up as somehow important.”

  Yes, but did she not notice the resemblance between my heroine and her? “O … kay?”

  “That would be fine if it were the only problem.” She pointed to the screen. “You haven’t given her motivation. Her actions are defined by the actions of the hero.”

  Really? I scowled at the screen.

  “Is that what you want?” Jane studied me. “For her to do what the hero tells her to do, with no thoughts of her own?”

  “Not at all. But they both want the same thing.”

  “That’s fine. Their goals align. But you have to clarify that her actions are motivated by what she wants. Not that she wants to give the hero what he wants with no thought to her own needs. Do you get me?”

  Her passion and investment in my writing suddenly lifted my mood like nothing could these days. I smiled at her, not caring if my feelings were reflected in my eyes. “You’re going to make sure I write badass heroines, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She laughed. “Jamie McKenna will not write bad heroines while I’m around.”

  “Then I guess you better stick around forever.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  Her breath caught as our eyes met and held. A little part of me panicked that she might take more from my meaning, but then I realized … maybe I wanted her to.

  Because the thought of a future without Jane filled me with dread.

  “Hey, guys.”

  I jolted at the sound of my big sister’s voice, whipping my head around to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Sorry to interrupt. I was upstairs napping.” Skye smiled, but it was inquisitive.

  I hadn’t even noticed her car outside.

  “That’s okay.” Jane closed her laptop and pushed up off the couch. “I need to get back, anyway. I promised Willa I’d babysit the kids tonight.”

  Disappointment filled me. I didn’t want her to go. I stood, towering over her curvy, five-foot-six figure. “You’re coming to my party tomorrow, right?”

  I hadn’t wanted a birthday party. I wasn’t a birthday-party kind of guy, but Skye had convinced me that inviting guys from the track team and their friends to a party would help me find my place at USC. It was harder for me to fit in when I wasn’t staying on campus. Or at least that was Skye’s worry.

  “Jamie, you know I’m not a party person.”

  “But I also know Lorna will browbeat you into coming, so I’ll see you there,” I teased.

  Jane laughed. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She waved at Skye.

  “See you tomorrow, sweetie.”

  As soon as the door closed behind Jane, my big sister pounced. “So, I’m not imagining the fact that (a) Jane is allowed to read your writing, and (b) you were flirting with her—am I?”

  I groaned and strode past her into the kitchen. “Skye, leave it.”

  “Uh, if it were anyone else but Jane, I would.” She followed me in and leaned against the peninsula counter. Her gaze bored into me. “What’s going on there?”

  “Nothing that will happen while she’s not eighteen,” I promised.

  “You like her,” Skye surmised. “It’s not just that she’s drop-dead gorgeous. You’re letting her read your work, so you must like her. Respect her opinion?”

  “I do,” I admitted.

  She exhaled slowly. “Jamie … Lorna won’t have it. As far as she’s concerned, that sweet kid has belonged to her from the day they met.”

  Anger churned in my gut, and I glared at Skye. “And you don’t think that’s a little fucked up?”

  Concern flashed across my sister’s face. “Lorna has insecurities you and I seem incapable of helping her with. She met Jane when she needed someone to be hers, only hers, and at the time Jane needed that just as much.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Do I like the way Lorna manipulates Jane sometimes? No. But they’re both grown-ups now. It’s up to them to work out their relationship.”

  “Here’s what I know: Jane doesn’t belong to Lorna. And Lorna’s feelings on the matter won’t stop me.”

  Skye scrutinized me. “Are you … are you in love with her?”

  The thought made my heart race fast and my palms sweat. “Fucking hell, what kind of question is that?”

  “The kind of question a person asks when their little brother is the biggest player ever and he casts his sights on a young woman I adore and feel protective of.”

  That anger turned to indignation. “You think I’d hurt her?”

  “Jamie, if your feelings are genuine, I’m all for it. Even if I have to deal with Lorna freaking out about it. Because it would make me happy if you ended up with someone like Jane. But”—she glowered at me—“if you’re thinking with your dick because the g
irl is a knockout, then don’t go there. Please. She …” Skye heaved a sigh. “I’m betraying the sisterhood when I tell you this, but, Jamie, that girl has had a crush on you since forever.”

  My heart lurched at the thought. Happiness warmed me all over. “Really?”

  Skye narrowed her eyes. “Really. And if you aren’t serious about her, you’ll crush her.”

  This wasn’t the kind of conversation I wanted to have with my sister. In fact, I didn’t think it was right to tell her this shit before I even told Jane, but since Skye would probably worry over it for the next nine months, I gave her what she needed to hear.

  “That girl deserves to be loved,” I said, my voice hoarse with emotion and a little discomfort. “No one has ever loved her right, except for you. Not even Lorna. When a guy comes along, he needs to love her hard. To make up for all the times people forgot to love her.” Or the times it was taken away from her, like with her adoptive parents. Just the thought of Jane feeling unloved made me want to punch a fist through the wall. “I plan to be the guy who loves her like that.”

  Tears brightened Skye’s eyes. She reached up and brushed the backs of her fingers over my cheek. “Wow. Well … it sounds like you already might be that guy. Don’t you think?”

  My heart pounded hard. Yeah. I did think.

  She squeezed my shoulder and gave me a tight smile. “You wait until she’s eighteen.”

  I nodded, already willing nine months to fly by at the speed of light.

  We fell into silence as we made fajitas, both lost in our own thoughts. But it occurred to me as Skye stood grating cheese and I stirred the chicken, spices, and peppers in the pan, that Skye was here at an odd time of day for her. “What are you doing home?”

  “We finished filming the season finale at 4.00 a.m. I needed some sleep, so I came home for a nap. I fly out to New York for the Benson film the morning after your birthday.”

  It was still so surreal to see Skye in magazines and in photographs online. The Sorcerer had provided her with a certain level of fame, and now that she was getting secondary roles in big movies, it might not be long before she got starring roles. Once that happened, I couldn’t imagine our lives would ever be the same. Not that they were normal now. There was nothing normal about seeing bikini shots of your big sister as the home screen on a teammate’s phone.