Wilder Love

by Rose, Emery

  “Thank you. For the birthday present.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  We walked past a man fishing from the pier and he gave Shane a two-finger salute. Shane had talked to him earlier, asked him if the fishing was good and what he’d caught. That was the big difference between us. He could talk to anyone. He was the kind of guy that other men liked. Secure in his masculinity. Friendly. Confident. Relaxed. He was comfortable in his own skin.

  And I was like a moth drawn to the flame.

  12

  Remy

  I knocked on my mom’s bedroom door. “Mom, we need the rent money.”

  On the other side of the door, I heard a man’s voice and my mom giggling.

  “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

  I rolled my eyes. It was August. “It’s summer break.”

  A few weeks ago, Mom said she was ready to move.

  “We need to shake things up. We need a change. Everything will be different in Santa Fe. You’ll see.”

  It was two against one this time so instead of moving, Mom took off for a few days and left us to fend for ourselves. It wasn’t the first time she’d done it and wouldn’t be the last. But we never told anyone when she disappeared. It was better to have an absentee mom than no mom at all. Mostly, we were self-sufficient. But now the rent was overdue and there was only so much dodging we could do.

  “Mom, I need you to pay the rent today.”

  “You’re just an old worrywart, Remy. I told you I’ll take care of it. The sun is shining. Go do whatever it is you do. Have a good day, sweetie,” she sing-songed.

  I sighed. When she got like this, there was no point fighting her on it. She wouldn’t pay attention. I blocked my ears as she moaned and giggled, somehow simultaneously.

  * * *

  Oh shit. Jerry made a beeline for me as I climbed out of Shane’s Jeep.

  He stopped in front of me and ran his hand over his combover, his murky brown eyes trained on my face and not my boobs which I appreciated. Thankfully, Jerry was an okay guy, not a creeper. But still. He wasn’t running a charity organization. “I’ve left a few messages for your mother, but she hasn’t responded.”

  No surprise. Mom was MIA and had been for a week. But I didn’t want him to know that. “I’m sorry. She’s been so busy with work.”

  Liar. She lost her job a few weeks ago. On purpose, Dylan and I suspected.

  He scratched his head, trying to decide whether to believe me. There were sweat stains under the arms of his short-sleeve white dress shirt. “If I don’t get the rent today, I have no choice but to start the legal proceedings.” Poor Jerry. He looked like he regretted having to say those words. Like he actually felt sorry about it.

  “I understand. I’ll make sure she pays it today.” My stomach sank. How was I going to keep that promise?

  Jerry nodded and glanced over my shoulder. Shane. Oh God. He was still here, waiting in his Jeep with the windows rolled down. Now he knew that our rent was overdue. I wished the blacktop would swallow me up. Shame burned my cheeks as I watched Jerry return to his office. Shane came to stand next to me.

  “How much do you need?”

  “I’m not taking your money, Shane.”

  “How much do you need?” he repeated. His voice was strained like he was barely hanging onto his restraint. Tension rolled off him.

  At this point, I had no other options. My mother was MIA. We needed a place to live and for Costa del Rey, this apartment was cheap. Dylan and I had looked for something else, but everything was out of our budget.

  I winced as I told him the dollar amount. He didn’t even blink. He jerked his chin for me to follow him and I did, right up the stairs and through the door to his kitchen. I leaned against the kitchen counter and waited for him while he went to get his checkbook in the bedroom. Or the living room. Or somewhere. He’d left a trail of sand across the white floorboards like he did wherever he went.

  Pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, I stifled a groan. Why? Why did this shit always happen in front of him?

  I lowered my hands and grabbed a green apple from the fruit bowl. Might as well throw that on my tab. Room and board. My eye caught on an invoice, tucked under the fruit bowl and I peered closer. I slid the fruit bowl aside and stared at the name—Rachel St. Clair.

  Shane returned with a check, his eyes darting to the bills clutched in my hand.

  “You paid them?” I didn’t know if I was pissed or grateful. How had he known? How had he even gotten these?

  Shane didn’t answer. Of course, he’d paid them. I should have known that my mom hadn’t.

  “I can’t believe you,” I shouted. I slammed out of his house and jogged down the stairs.

  “Remy,” he called.

  I sprinted across the street and up the stairs to the second floor, my keys clasped in my hand, the metal digging into the skin.

  I unlocked the apartment door and slipped inside, trying to shut it behind me. To close him out. He held his hand against the door, preventing me from closing it in his face.

  “Shane. Just go.”

  He forced the door open and followed me inside, slamming the door behind him.

  “You still need the rent money.”

  “Not from you, I don’t.”

  He ignored me and set the check on the coffee table.

  “I’m not a charity case.”

  “I know you’re not.”

  “How many months… how long have you been paying our utilities?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters,” I yelled. I stopped and took a breath, fighting to regain control of my jumbled-up emotions. “Why would you do that? You can’t go around doing that for people.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Yeah. You keep saying that. But how would you feel if someone did it for you?”

  “What am I supposed to do? Pretend I don’t give a shit? Let them shut off your electricity because your sorry excuse for a mother doesn’t pay the fucking bills?”

  “My mother is doing the best she can,” I said through gritted teeth. It wasn’t true. Not really. She could do a lot of things better and different. My mom was not perfect. She wasn’t always a great mother. But she was ours and she was all we had. I wouldn’t let Shane or anyone else talk bad about her.

  Shane ran a hand through his hair and looked around the apartment. “You shouldn’t be living like this.” I hated to see it through his eyes. The ratty sofa. The sheets stuffed into the corner. The coffee table with ring marks and cigarette burns, an ashtray filled with butts because my bonehead brother had started smoking cigarettes now. Dylan’s dirty clothes tossed into a heap on the floor. We needed to clean the place. It reeked of desperation and neglect. I hated that Shane saw so much. I didn’t need or appreciate his judgment.

  “What gives you the right to look down your nose at me? To treat me like… white trash.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths. He was probably counting to ten, but he wouldn’t make it that far. Despite his best efforts, he never did. Not when it came to me. “You are not white trash and you know damn well I’ve never treated you like you were. So cut the shit, Remy.”

  “I hate the way you make me feel.”

  “How do I make you feel?” He moved closer, his eyes flitting over my face, from my eyes to my lips. I swallowed hard, pressing the palms of my hands flat against the wall I was leaning against.

  “Jealous,” I whispered. “And angry. And…” I squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted him so badly it hurt.

  “Remy.” His voice was low and hoarse, and I could feel the heat of his body, his nearness, even though we weren’t touching. My lips parted. I wanted to beg him to kiss me. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Maybe he didn’t even want to. I opened my eyes and looked into his.

  “I wish…”

  “What do you wish?” he asked, his eyes locked onto mine.

  I wished that I didn’t want
him so much. That everything didn’t have to be so hard for us. That the playing field would be even. I wished that he would touch me. I wished that I’d never been touched by anyone else before him. I wished so very many things.

  “Am I the only one or do you feel it too?” I whispered. I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d said too much. Made myself too vulnerable. I waited for him to walk away.

  The backs of his fingers brushed over my cheekbone and across my lips. I opened my eyes. His body shifted, leaning into me, his hand braced on the wall next to my head. He hooked his finger in the strap of my tank top and slid it up and down, his eyes never leaving my face.

  “It’s wrong.” His voice sounded strained. Even as he said the words, his hand gripped my hip, his thumb rubbing the bare skin just above the waistline of my shorts. The feel of his rough, calloused fingers on my skin sent shivers up and down my spine. I couldn’t breathe. I was afraid to move. Afraid that he’d stop touching me, pull away, and that the look of lust in his eyes would disappear. “So fucking wrong.”

  “I’ve been saving all my kisses for you.”

  He groaned, sounding like he was truly in pain, and pressed his forehead against mine. We were heaving, breathing the same air. “Don’t tell me things like that.”

  “It’s true.” He dragged his thumb across my lower lip. “Kiss me.” I was pleading. Begging now. And I didn’t care. I needed this kiss like I needed the air I breathed. I needed him.

  I thought he would tell me it was wrong again. But he didn’t. His hand glided down the side of my neck and into my hair. He dipped his head, his mouth only inches from mine.

  His lips met mine in a closed-mouth kiss. I closed my eyes and instinctively, my arms wrapped around his neck. I ran my fingers through his thick hair, still damp from the ocean. He kissed me softly and sweetly, over and over. Then he pulled back, and I nearly wept, thinking he was going to stop before I’d even gotten my first real taste. But he seemed to have made up his mind about something because his lips were on mine again. His arm snaked around my waist and he tugged me closer.

  His tongue swept out against my lips, and I let him in. He filled my mouth, stroking the most sensitive parts, retreating only to return again. I arched into him, my breasts pressed against his hard chest and the unmistakable feel of his hard length against my stomach let me know that he was just as affected as I was. I couldn’t hold back the moan and he let out something that sounded like a growl.

  His hands glided down my back and cupped my ass. He lifted me up off the ground and I cinched both legs tightly around his waist, our bodies molded so closely together that I could feel his heart thumping against my chest.

  My feet hit the floor with a thud as the front door swung open. Shane took a step back, putting some distance between us, and ran his hand through his hair. I couldn’t look at his face. I was too scared I’d see regret. Or guilt. Or something I didn’t want to see. So, I didn’t look at him. I leaned against the wall, my legs trembling, and tried to control my breathing. My heart was beating too fast. Half-dazed, I swept my tongue over my lips, tasting him. He tasted like the sea and like something else—something intoxicating. Heady.

  Dylan paused in the doorway and his gaze swung from me to Shane before he strode past us. My brother had the best sense of timing.

  “What happened to you?” I asked, taking in the bruise on his cheekbone and the dried blood on his knuckles.

  He ignored my question and picked up the check on the coffee table, accusation in his voice as he asked, “Where did you get this, Rem?”

  He knew the answer. “Shane.”

  Dylan stalked over to us and held the check in front of Shane who crossed his arms over his chest and made no move to take it.

  Dylan ripped the check into tiny pieces and tossed them in the air. They rained down like confetti. “We don’t need your money. I got it covered.”

  Shocked at his words, my mouth dropped open. “Where did you get the money?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Dylan. Where did you get the money?”

  My question was met with stony silence.

  His gaze was narrowed on Shane. They were locked in a silent battle of wills, and I had broken our code, airing our dirty laundry in front of Shane, an outsider in Dylan’s eyes. “I got it covered,” he repeated, in case Shane had missed it the first time.

  Dylan’s body was coiled with tension, his gaze hard and jaw locked as he stared at Shane. This was ridiculous. Dylan was waiting for Shane to leave, his body language screaming that he wasn’t wanted here.

  Shane glanced at me then strode out the door. I sighed as it closed behind him and turned my attention to Dylan who was rooting through the dresser for some clean clothes. He was shirtless, his six-pack and the ink on his skin on display. Lyrics from Eminem’s “Love The Way You Lie” were tattooed across his ribs.

  He didn’t even have a space of his own. That was why he only came home for a shower or the occasional meal. But when Mom was gone, he stayed here. Slept on the sofa so I wouldn’t have to be alone in the apartment. He never said it, but I knew that was why he did it and I loved him for it. But he was keeping so many secrets from me. I’d heard so many rumors about him at school, that he was banging the housewives of Costa del Rey for money.

  My twin. The one who should be confiding in me. Yet I knew next to nothing about his life or where he went or what he did. Now he looked like a human punching bag. Why?

  “I’m gonna hit the shower.”

  I grabbed his arm to stop him. “Whoa. Hang on. Please tell me you didn’t do anything illegal.”

  He exhaled loudly. “We fucking needed the money and I got it just like I said I would. It’s you and me. We’re in this together. We don’t need help from anyone else. Remember?”

  I took a deep breath and released it. This was Shane we were talking about. Not a stranger or an outsider. But Dylan was right. It didn’t feel good accepting charity from anyone, not even Shane. Bad enough he had paid our utilities. I hated that he did that for us. Hated that he needed to. If I told Dylan, he’d find a way to repay him. I didn’t want that either, so I kept my mouth shut about it and I nodded. “Yeah. I remember. Are you okay?”

  “You don’t need to worry about me and you don’t need to worry about the rent anymore. I’ve got it covered.”

  “Dylan—”

  “I’m doing this for us. Mom’s gone, and I don’t give a shit if she comes back. It’s just you and me. Are you with me or not?”

  “I’m with you.” But where we would we be if he ended up in juvie? He hadn’t assured me that whatever he’d done was legal.

  “Nobody else needs to know our business. As long as we have each other’s backs, everything will be okay.”

  I nodded, not because I actually believed that everything would be okay but because I knew he needed me to be on his side. To know that I had his back as much as he had mine. And as he walked away, I wondered when my brother had grown up. When had he become a man? Only a year ago, he’d been a surly sixteen-year-old boy scowling at me for going to the beach without him. Now he was shouldering the weight of the world. He’d gotten bigger and stronger and far more dangerous.

  Desperation drives people to do things they’d never dream they were capable of doing.

  * * *

  “You better email me and text me and keep me posted on everything,” Sienna said. She was dressed for bed in a champagne silk camisole and short set. “I can’t believe he’s doing this to me.”

  “You might have fun.” My attempt to cheer her up was feeble at best. I didn’t want her to leave either. Finding out that her dad was shipping her off to an East Coast boarding school for our senior year had hit me hard. I would have no allies at Costa del Rey High now. Dylan would be taking classes at the community college. I would be alone. With Tristan Hart and his merry band of assholes. But that was me being selfish.

  “Oh yeah, right. Fun,” Sienna said. “The place sounds like an institu
tion. You’ve seen the glossy brochures.”

  “Propaganda,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth and tossed a Starbucks gift card into my lap, her eyes never straying from the TV screen. I tossed it back into her lap and watched Grace Kelly spying on her neighbor on the fifty-five-inch screen in Sienna’s lilac bedroom while I sipped the lychee martini we had whipped up at her dad’s bar. It was our third one.

  A loud crash drew my attention to the open window.

  “Fuck.”

  Dylan lay sprawled across the floor, laughing like a maniac. He stood up and stumbled over to the bed, his eyes narrowed on Sienna.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my brow furrowed in confusion.

  “Came to say goodbye to the princess.” His words slurred. “My kingdom for a kiss. Or a kick in the nuts.” Dressed in black from head to toe—black T-shirt, black jeans, unlaced black combat boots, he looked like the villain in Sienna’s fairy tale.

  The mattress dipped under his weight as he crawled up the bed and knelt over her. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke into her face while I stared, dumbfounded, trying to put all the missing pieces of the puzzle together. She plucked the cigarette from his lips and took a drag then shoved him away with her foot. He landed on the floor with a thud.

  “Ow. Your floor’s hard as shit.”

  His arm reached up and she handed back his cigarette like they did this song and dance every night of the week and were so attuned to each other, no words were necessary. I crawled over Sienna and stared at my brother. He was sitting on the floor next to her bed, his back against the wall, blowing smoke rings into the air with his eyes closed.

  I glared at Sienna. “Whatever happened to confiding in each other?”

  “It’s… we’re…” She sighed. “He’s your brother. Your twin brother. It just felt weird telling you. Nothing is happening though.”