Unwritten

by Jen Frederick

  “‘Destiny’s Here?’” Adam supplies. At my continued blank look, his lips twitch slightly and then he hums a few bars. “‘I ran away, afraid to stay, now destiny’s here.’”

  The words barely register as I stare at his beautiful mouth.

  “Landry?” my brother prompts.

  I jerk my head toward Davis. “Yeah?”

  He frowns. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

  “Um...” What were we talking about? Oh yeah, the tour with the other band. “I don’t recognize it.”

  “It’s a new song,” Adam reassures me.

  “If it’s not in the top forty, I doubt she’s heard it.” Davis clucks his tongue in dismay over my musical ignorance. “I’m going to get my gear. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay,” I start, but he moves so quickly I end up talking to his back.

  The door closes slowly behind him, leaving me alone with Adam.

  I brush a nervous hand over my hair. I slapped on some lipstick in the car, using the parking lot lights for illumination as I peered through my broken glasses at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My hair is stick straight, but the last time a brush made contact was about six hours ago. I probably look less appealing than gum at the bottom of a shoe.

  All those hot looks I thought I’d read in Adam’s eyes were probably ones of horror mixed with concern.

  “Shit. I forgot why we came back here.” Adam heads over to the desk and leans down, rummaging through a bag sitting at the side. Standing up, he holds out a worn gray T-shirt with a little U logo. “It’s clean. I promise.”

  “My shirt’s dry now,” I lie. It’s sticky and damp as hell, but I’m not about to admit that.

  “You sure? It can’t be comfortable.”

  “It’s fine.”

  His hand slowly lowers to his side. Something almost like disappointment flits across his face, but I chalk that up to my crappy vision.

  “So, Landry, if you don’t like music, what does get your engine running?” He dumps the shirt into the bag, then leans his butt against the desk and folds his arms across his chest.

  My eyes drop to his forearms, which are nicely defined. Every part of him is nicely defined, from his biceps to his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and solid legs. If I could put together my ideal man shape, like some sort of sexy Mr. Potato Head, it’d end up looking exactly like Adam. And now I’m about to tell him that I’m a nerd.

  “I write code. Computer code.”

  He gives me an encouraging smile. “That’s cool. You must be smart.”

  “Um, I guess?” I never know how to respond to that. When someone compliments Davis on his singing, he invariably says something cocky like, “I know.” I need to adopt that attitude. If I had his confidence, I’d sashay over to Adam, drag my hand down his muscled chest and lick the sweat off his neck.

  But I don’t have that confidence. My limited experience with guys can be categorized into two columns: the jerky one I dated in college and the scary one who stalked me after I got out.

  “No guess about it.” He pushes to his feet and approaches, stopping only a step away.

  I can feel the heat of his body, smell the clean sweat of his under-the-lights workout. This close, I can make out details of his upper arm tattoos—bold lines and elegant swirls glide together in harmony. It shouldn’t work, but it does. The tattoos serve to highlight his sexy body, making me want to trace my fingers and tongue along the lines until I reach—

  “You know, now that Davis is in my band, I consider him family.” A finger tilts my chin up until I meet Adam’s dark eyes. “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for family. Give me the name of whoever hurt you, and I’ll take care of it.”

  I lick my lips. “I just got scared over nothing.”

  “You don’t look like someone who scares easily.” His thumb rubs gently across my skin.

  I don’t have a good response, because I want to agree, but I don’t think that’s the truth. Someone who didn’t scare easily wouldn’t be in my shoes. Someone who didn’t scare easily would’ve chased after Marrow. Someone who didn’t scare easily would lean forward, raise her face, and kiss this man.

  “You ready?” Davis bangs the door open.

  I jump back from Adam’s touch and dart a nervous glance in Davis’s direction. But he’s too impatient, gesturing for me to scoot out the door, so he doesn’t notice how close I was standing to Adam or sense how charged the air is in this small office.

  “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  “You sure I can’t do anything?” Adam offers once more.

  Davis shakes his head. “We got it.”

  I briefly meet Rock God’s eyes. “Nice to meet you, Adam.”

  After a beat of hesitation, he nods. “Yeah. Same.”

  Adam’s gorgeous and talented. Another time, another life, I’d be all over him, but for so many reasons, taking him up on his offer would be disastrous. So I hurry out of the room with the heat of his eyes on my back as I walk down the hall.

  Out by the car, my brother shoves his guitar case in the backseat while I get into the passenger seat.

  Once he’s in the driver’s seat Davis picks up my mangled glasses. “You did a number on these, didn’t you?”

  “Yup.”

  “That asshole. I wish I’d…” Davis trails off, swallowing what I imagine are very murderous thoughts. We’ve gotten into a dozen arguments about what he was going to do to Chris Marrow. I wanted Davis to stay away. Davis wanted to carve him up with a dull spoon.

  “I know what you wish, but it was probably nothing.” I fiddle with my seatbelt as Davis pushes the button to start the car. When he shifts into drive, I wiggle in my seat.

  “I only had two shots the whole night,” he says tightly.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I wasn’t checking up on you.”

  “You sure about that?”

  I pat my face. “Real sure.”

  Davis grunts, but pulls out. We both fall silent. He’s probably dwelling on my idiocy while I’m multi-tasking—worrying about him and me at the same time.

  When we arrive home, it’s completely dark. He keeps the lights on and hits the garage door opener. “Stay here,” he orders.

  I get out.

  He sighs.

  I scamper inside the garage and find a flashlight, which I hand to him because if I don’t I’m sure he’d rip it out of my fingers.

  “Where’d you see him?”

  “By the side door to the garage.”

  Davis shines the light in front of him, and we go investigate.

  “Looks like someone was standing here.”

  I peer down. The snow melted off last month and the ground is soft and springy. There’s a slight depression in the old mulch my dad laid around the sidewalk and trees, but there’s no shoe print. No glaring evidence that says, “STALKER WAS HERE.”

  “I’ll call Pressley in the morning,” I relent with a sigh. Detective Pressley is the woman who was finally assigned to my case after months of me getting the runaround from the cops. She’s the reason Marrow served any time at all, even though three months of an eighteen-month sentence seems grossly inadequate.

  “For all the good that’ll do.” Davis flicks off the flashlight and hands it to me. “Go inside and I’ll park the car.”

  I’d like to tell Davis to go home, but I don’t want to be alone in this big house tonight, which is yet another reason why kissing Adam would’ve been a huge mistake.

  My head’s already a mess. I don’t need to screw up my heart, too.

  Chapter Three

  Landry

  “He’s lying!” Davis fumes the next morning.

  I drop my head in my hands, the frames of my spare glasses digging into my temples

  “I know, but right now, what we have are two people who swear he was with them. You say that you saw a shadow. The girls you were with believe that it was either an animal or just the wind.” Detective Pressley gives us a regretful
look. “I want to help you, but the evidence isn’t there.”

  Which is why I didn’t call her last night.

  “Can’t you just present this stuff to the judge? He’s texting her and now he’s creeping around our house. Who else would it be?”

  “We don’t have any evidence—no witnesses, no physical evidence, nothing—to show he’s violated the terms of his probation.”

  “So I just wait for him to attack Landry again?” Davis interjects bitterly.

  I slump farther down in my chair and poke a tongue at my sore lip. On Earth Two, my alternate life, Adam’s walking into my bedroom wearing nothing but a smile and carrying a cup of coffee. We just had the best sex of my life, and he’s eager for more.

  Sadly, I’m on Earth One.

  “I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do. We have to catch him in the act.” She taps the printout of messages I brought with me. The text messages look less ominous on the page, almost fake without the green and blue bubbles.

  Where are you?

  I forgive you.

  I’m making plans. Don’t you worry.

  “Catch him in the act? Like you want her to lure him to her house and have her get beat up again?” Davis is incredulous.

  “Davis, stop it. I tripped and fell.” Besides, Pressley would never ask me to serve as bait. She’s the one who gave me the info about the self-defense class I took a year ago.

  “This is bullshit,” Davis repeats. He abruptly gets to his feet and stalks out of the small room.

  Pressley and I stare at each other in silence. My eyes drop to the cuff of her crisp white shirt. You can tell how long Pressley has been up by the condition of her shirt. At the start of her shift, it’s crisp. At two in the morning, it’s as crumpled as a wadded-up dollar bill. I like crisp Pressley best. You never want to see a detective late at night. It always means bad things.

  “I hope you know I’d never suggest you put yourself in danger,” she says softly.

  “I know.” I take a deep breath and rise. I shove away the fantasy of Earth Two and pull myself together. “I’m sorry for Davis. We’re frustrated.”

  “I am, too,” she says. “I wish I could do something more for you, but I can’t trace these texts. We don’t have the budget for that kind of thing, even if it’s possible to trace them. Until we have proof that these messages are from him or we see him violating the restraining order, there’s nothing we can do. The law presumes that he’s innocent until proven guilty. Have you thought about changing your number?”

  “This is the fourth number I’ve had in the last six months. But yeah, I’ll change it.” I try hard to keep the frustration out of my voice. This isn’t Detective Pressley’s fault, I remind myself in an effort not to completely lose my mind and lash out at the one person who’s provided actual help to me

  “When he screws up—and he will—we’ll get him.” Her gaze flicks to the scar on my cheek—the one that Marrow left when he whipped a coffee mug at the side of my face during the attack that sent him to prison for the brief three months. “We’re not going to let you get hurt again.” She walks around that big desk of hers. “You have your safety kit?”

  “Yeah, I have it.” I have a can of pepper spray, an alarm on my keychain, and an app on my mobile that calls 9-1-1 and with the press of one button sends my location to a bunch of people in my phone: Davis, my parents, and my best friend, May. Sadly, only one of them is in town. May is in Mongolia and my parents are in Turkey.

  “And you took those self-defense classes.”

  “Yes.” For all the good that did me. Last night, I froze like a timid rabbit and then ran to hide behind Davis’s guitar.

  “Good. Be alert and try to stop worrying so much.” She hesitates with her hand on the door. “Maybe you should try to get out of town for a while. Put yourself outside of Marrow’s reach. He’s required to stay in the state per his probation requirements, but you don’t have to stay put, Landry. Go to a beach, meet a nice guy, have some fun.”

  I should’ve gone with May, I think for the hundredth time since my best friend took off on her backpacking trip across the world. Except for the fact that I didn’t want to backpack or spend days without showers. May’s idea of a good time is to pretend she’s an extra on the Bear Grylls survival show.

  “I’m going to eat bugs, Landry! Isn’t that cool?”

  “No, May, I don’t think that’s cool at all.”

  “Did you know that ants are full of protein and some of them taste chocolate-y?”

  “That sounds terrible. I’ll stay home.”

  I tell none of this to Pressley, though. Instead I give her a brief hug and say goodbye.

  Davis is out in the lobby, a regretful look on his face. “Sorry for losing my shit in there,” he mumbles.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I drag my purse strap higher on my shoulder. “You ready?”

  “Yeah. Mind if we stop at my condo first so I can grab some stuff?”

  I frown. “What stuff?”

  He shrugs. “Just clothes and shit. I’m staying with you until Mom and Dad get back.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I object. “I’ll be fine.”

  He gives me the Look. The one that says I’m your big brother and I’m going to protect you until my dying breath so don’t bother arguing with me.

  Normally I find it sweet, and sometimes it’s annoying. Today, I feel almost…ashamed. I know I’m not to blame for this Marrow situation—or for what happened to Davis’s afterward. I didn’t even know Marrow had a thing for me and I didn’t ask Davis to mete out a revenge beating that fractured three bones in his hand. Those things happened, though, and it’s hard to shake the consequences of it all.

  For all my good fortune—the business success, Mom and Dad rekindling their marriage, Davis in his new job and his new band—the past still has a hold on me.

  I don’t want that for Davis. He has a job, a life, and—the tour. Damn it, he has an opportunity to go on tour and maybe even hit it big.

  “Just for tonight,” I say firmly.

  Davis gives me the Look again. Biting my lip in exasperation, I follow him out of the police station.

  * * *

  “Is that…a snake head?” I adjust my glasses in hopes that my vision is distorting things.

  “Yes!” May’s excited voice blares out of my laptop speakers. “We had snake for dinner when we were riding in Kharkhorin. That’s the old capital of Mongolia,” she explains. I don’t even know what the current capital is but I smile and nod. “Anyway, the meat was chewy, if you were wondering. They let me keep the head which I’m bringing back with me. Isn’t that amazing?” She shakes it again, and it bounces up and down on the Skype screen, the dead eyes watching me no matter where I moved in front of the camera.

  “Amazing,” I say faintly, my stomach roiling. “So where are you exactly?”

  “Close to Ulan Bator. I visited the Gandan Monastery—it was gorgeous.”

  Ulan Bator…the name rings a bell. Oh, I think that is the current capital. I remember reviewing May’s itinerary, which seems to change by the week, and thinking it sounded like a Tomb Raider game with May playing the part of gun-wielding, acrobatic Lara Croft. “How long are you going to be there?”

  “Only a day.” She leans forward. “I hooked up with another tour to ride into Amarbayasgalant Monastery. It’s for three weeks.”

  Yup. Lara Croft, take two. “Find any ancient treasures or curses?”

  She giggles. “Thankfully, no, but I am practicing my backflips.” Her eyes sparkle with happiness, which in turn fills me with happiness. Before she left, May was miserable. We’d sold our app and made out like bandits, but our lives took a weird turn. Instead of being the happiest people ever with our big, fat bank accounts, Marrow came into my life and May fell for the wrong guy. Now she’s riding ponies, eating snakes and ants, and having the best time of her life.

  “Are you going to spend the rest of your life riding ponies in the d
esert?”

  “Maybe?” She shrugs. “Look, we both know I was a mess when I left. I needed distance and being out here, meeting monks, learning to meditate, it’s all helped me heal.”

  “I should join you, then, because my life is just as untidy.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Nah, you’d hate it out here. Besides, there’s no way for you to get to me. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  I try to keep the relief out of my face. I love May, but we’re so different. Working together is one thing. Vacationing together would break our precious bond.

  “Be safe,” I tell her.

  “I will. Love you, Laundry Basket.” She waves at the screen.

  “Love you, too, May Day.” I blow her a kiss and then she’s gone.

  I drum my fingers on my desk. It’s quiet in my parents’ house. Upstairs, Davis is in his old bedroom, playing “Come Alive” on his guitar. It’s been two days, yet he refuses to leave me and go back to his condo.

  If he won’t leave me alone in the house, how’s he going to go on tour? Joining May is not a possibility. And I won’t interrupt my parents’ trip—they’re on a second honeymoon, trying to save their marriage.

  What happened the last time Davis had to quit a band makes my stomach cramp. I’d eat a mouse and a snake before letting him travel down that dark road again.

  So that leaves one option. I try the bait thing, luring Marrow out in the open and trapping him somehow. The notion makes me want to vomit, but I can’t allow my situation to stand in the way of Davis’s dreams.

  Not this time.

  Chapter Four

  Adam

  “You bang those cupboard doors any harder and they’re going to fall off,” my roommate Bo says as he strolls into the kitchen.

  “Where the fuck are we keeping the coffee these days?” I grouch. The problem with living with four other guys is that shit keeps getting moved.

  Bo reaches for a can behind the coffee pot. “Here. By the coffeemaker.”

  I grab it and rip off the lid. “Well, it used to be in the cupboard next to the sink.”