Table of Contents
Epilogue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Copyright
Blackout
Copyright© 2017 by Dani Matthews
All rights reserved.
This book is meant for entertainment purposes only. Names, characters, and events are all products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. All comments and conversations written within these pages are part of a fictional story and are not meant to be taken in the literal sense. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author. The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book. Trademarks have been used without permission.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Epilogue
One
Gabe
As I pull into the driveway, I notice two unfamiliar cars parked at the curb. Irritation sweeps through me. I don’t know who has friends over, but they’d better be quiet as fuck.
I’m just coming off a twelve-hour shift, and my head is pounding like a bitch from the rig’s siren. All I want is peace and quiet so I can drop into bed and put the shit day behind me. It’s always hard to lose someone on the way to the hospital, but when it’s a sixteen-year-old kid who’d had his entire life ahead of him, it haunts a person. Life is fragile as hell.
With a heavy sigh, I park my car and climb out.
That’s when I see people standing at the front door. The outdoor light beneath the overhang shines on them, and there looks to be two guys—one of them happens to be carrying a female. Another female stands beside the men.
She turns and spies me walking towards them. “Gabe, right? Or are you Channing? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. We were just going to ring the doorbell a second time,” she explains to me.
As I approach them, I realize that the unconscious female happens to be Harper, and my chest tightens. I promptly go into paramedic mode. “What happened?” I ask in a calm, but clipped tone. This was the last thing I expected to find upon coming home.
The guy holding her speaks. “We came across her walking around a few blocks from the party we came from. Mel recognized her, so we offered her a ride home.”
“She passed out almost immediately,” Mel adds.
Fucking hell.
Harper never could hold her liquor, but this is the first time she’s been brought home completely passed out. I struggle with my temper as I dig out my keys and move to the door, unlocking it. After I shove it open, I hold out my arms for Harper. The guy carefully transfers her over to me, and I give him a brief nod. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”
They turn to leave, and I go inside, using my foot to close the door before carrying Harper to the L-shaped, dark brown sofa in the living room. She reeks of alcohol and a faint hint of the familiar perfume she favors.
I gently deposit her on the sofa and begin a preliminary exam. She’s likely fine, but I still need to check for alcohol poisoning. I begin to look for the typical signs. Her lips and fingertips are normal, her pulse steady, and after a full minute of watching her chest rise and fall, I’m pleased to find that normal, too.
“Harper,” I say loudly.
Her eyelids flicker, and she mumbles something unintelligible before going back to sleep.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I growl at her.
Her face pulls into a slight frown, and then her expression smooths and relaxes.
My jaw clenches, and I swipe a frustrated hand through my hair. Anything could have happened to her while she was wandering around completely inebriated. Even back in high school she’d been bad with alcohol. She typically goes out with a ‘buddy,’ but she must’ve been on her own tonight. She knows better, so this means one thing.
Something’s bothering her.
The only time she drinks is when she has too much on her mind. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with her being this intoxicated.
The anger I’d been feeling moments earlier fades, and I bend over and slip my arms beneath her. She feels good in my arms, and I try to ignore her lush body pressed against my chest. I can’t recall the last time I’d held her, and even though she’s drunk, it still feels good.
I take her upstairs to her room and set her on the bed. She turns over onto her side, and I rummage around for extra pillows before piling them up at the head of the bed. When I lean over and adjust her on the pillows so that she’s half-sitting, she makes an annoyed sound in the back of her throat.
“You think this is bad? Just wait ‘til morning,” I mutter.
I move away and slip off her shoes—which happen to have heels. I’m surprised she didn’t break an ankle. I let them drop to the floor, and then I stand at the foot of the bed, gazing at her.
Even drunk, she’s still sexy as hell. Her long, chestnut hair lays tousled across the pillows, and somehow, her makeup has remained completely intact and barely smudged. That damn mole above her left upper lip has always enticed me to kiss it, and I’d been fascinated with it back in high school. I still find myself watching her lips move more often than I should, because those lips are so fucking provocative. My eyes follow the delicate line of her jaw and down to the full swells of her breasts beneath her shirt. She’s matured since high school. Back when she was sixteen, she hadn’t finished growing. Now that she’s twenty, she’s a mature woman and has filled out in all the best places.
I miss her.
As uneasy as it makes me, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I have strong feelings for her. Too many times I’ve wished I could go back in time and take back the things I’d done. I was an idiot back in high school, but admitting that and apologizing fixes nothing. It was one mistake after another, and now the barriers she’s put up can’t be broken. It’s been years since I’d hurt her, and we’ve managed to build a tentative friendship, but it doesn’t come close to what I really want. It’s true what they say, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.
I learned that the hard way.
I think I hear someone downstairs, and I shake off my thoughts and leave Harper’s room. It’s the weekend, and as far as I could tell upon arriving, everyone was gone.
I make my way downstairs and come upon Quinn. Her shoulder-length, dark purple hair is slightly messy, and her lips look swollen. She was obviously out with a guy. I want to be mad at her for not looking out for Harper tonight, but it’s not her job. Harper’s an adult, and she knew better.
Something must give away my mood, because she looks at me questioningly. �
��Something wrong?”
“Harper’s passed out in her room—completely shitfaced.”
Quinn visibly winces.
“Did you know she was going out?” I can’t resist asking.
The look she gives me makes it clear that if she’d known, she would have been with her. “How did she get home?”
“Some girl named Mel and two guys brought her home just as I was pulling up. They said she was wandering around,” I bite out, still amazed that she’d actually made it home safely.
Quinn frowns, clearly thinking.
“Something going on that I don’t know about? She doesn’t drink like this unless something has her upset.”
I watch as Quinn’s expression shifts. “If she wanted you to know, Gabe, she’d tell you.”
My eyes narrow with suspicion. “Then there is something?”
She says nothing as she continues to meet my gaze, her expression giving nothing away. I’m not going to get anything out of her. She’s quite protective of Harper, especially when I’m the one doing the asking. Quinn’s been best friends with Harper since their freshman year of high school. I know she feels responsible for bringing Harper to my attention, because Harper had become a permanent fixture at the foster home that Quinn, Channing, Colt, and I had grown up in. Where Quinn happened to be, Harper was always close by. The Thompson’s, our foster parents, had treated her like a member of the family since she’d been at the house so often.
“I was going to grab a trash bin and some aspirin for her. You want to keep an eye on her, or should I?” I already know the answer, but I need to ask anyway.
“I will.”
I nod. “I’m off to bed.”
She turns to go upstairs, and I walk to the back of the house and go to my room. I don’t bother with the light as I close the door and strip down before dropping into bed.
I’m so fucking exhausted, but Harper remains on my mind.
I don’t even recall the name of the girl I’d cheated on Harper with. She was the worst mistake of my life, but her name and her face fail me. She was just a screw—someone to halt my building feelings for Harper.
Growing up in foster and group homes had caused me to guard my feelings at a very early age, and that need to protect myself lingered even after moving in with the Thompson’s. When I’d begun dating Harper, I’d enjoyed her company and body without care. But then those feelings had begun to grow stronger, and they’d scared me shitless. I hadn’t wanted to let her in further, and I was alarmed that they’d snuck up on me and developed so strongly in the first place.
So, I did the typical ‘screw someone else’ cliché.
In my drunken stupor, I’d made the hasty decision to sleep with someone else. Harper had been grounded for breaking curfew that weekend, so I’d assumed I was in the clear to have a little fun.
What I didn’t consider was Harper sneaking out to the party to spend time with me. Not that I knew she’d been there. It’s not Harper’s style to make a scene, so I hadn’t known until the next day. I’d already known I’d messed up badly by the time I’d sobered that night, but it was already too late.
Harper broke up with me the next day.
Some dumbfuck had told her which room I’d gone into with the girl, and she’d wanted to see for herself what I was up to. While I fucked the girl, Harper had seen it all through the cracked door. The fact that she’d witnessed my cheating still burns me, but the worst was when she’d confronted me and asked what she’d done wrong.
My heart clenches as I recall that conversation. Her eyes, those beautiful green windows to her soul, had been filled with tears and discernable insecurity as she’d asked for answers. I hadn’t counted on her finding out about my cheating, and I certainly hadn’t expected her to blame herself and wonder what she’d done to make me turn to someone else. I’d scrambled for an explanation—anything other than the truth about my feelings, so I’d told her I wasn’t ready to settle down with one girl. That I wanted to explore.
She’d cut me out of her life that day, and I’d gone on to screw every available girl to distract myself from the truth. There were so many ways I could have done things differently, but I’d chosen to do something stupid in a drunken moment.
For a few years after our breakup, I’d made quite the reputation for myself. I’d rather her think I’m a manwhore than think she’d done anything wrong. I’d known how Harper’s mind worked, and if I hadn’t gone on to screw others, she would have always wondered what that nameless girl had that she didn’t.
When I’d left Idaho after graduation, it’d been a relief. Colt’s a few years older than Channing and me, so when he’d moved to Riverside, we’d known then and there that we would follow.
Quinn still had another year left of high school, but once she’d graduated, she’d made plans to join us here. Her plans had naturally included Harper since those two were, and still are, inseparable.
Somehow, after becoming housemates, Harper and I began to slowly build a friendship. Now, we have a good thing going, but I want more—so much more. I quit sleeping around over a year ago, and now I feel like I’m stuck in limbo.
Harper has no idea how I feel, and I’d prefer keeping it to myself to avoid the inevitable rejection. I blew my chance with her a long time ago and had damaged the most important foundation of any relationship.
Trust.
Two
Harper
The room has finally quit spinning, and my stomach can’t possibly have anything left inside it. I gingerly crawl back into bed, thankful that the aspirin had kicked in and my head isn’t pounding as badly as it had been earlier. I’d just spent thirty minutes hugging the bathroom toilet while puking my insides out. Now, I just want to sleep off the rest of this miserable hangover.
I shove the extra pillows off my bed and cuddle with the only one left. My eyebrows pull together as I frown. I woke up reclined. My position had Gabe written all over it. The worst part is not knowing how I’d gotten home or why it was Gabe who’d put me to bed. The few times I’ve been really drunk, Quinn’s set me up in the bathroom with an old blanket and a pillow. Did I really drink that much last night? Okay, so I’m a little prone to overdrinking occasionally, but I usually recall making it home and Quinn helping me to the bathroom.
This time, it’s all a complete blank—or most of it, that is.
I do recall being in a mood after running into Ash and Channing on my way out last night. They’d been holding hands and hurrying to Channing’s room. It’s hard to see them together since Channing is Gabe’s twin. They look very similar except Gabe prefers his hair cut shorter. As much as I’m happy for Ash, I’m also filled with jealousy. Those two have what I wish I could have. They’ve had a few bumps in the road to overcome, but now they’re in a great place and extremely happy. Sometimes, it’s a bit much to witness, though. It wouldn’t be if I still didn’t have feelings for Gabe.
Someone knocks on my door, and I hear it open an inch or two. “You awake?” Quinn cheerfully whispers.
I groan into the pillow I’m hugging. “Unfortunately, yes,” I reply, my voice muffled from the pillow. I’ve learned that once Quinn is in my room, she’s there to stay until she’s the one to decide when she leaves.
The door quietly closes, and I feel the bed dip beside me. “What happened last night?” she asks.
I carefully roll onto my back and look at Quinn with bleary eyes. She looks like she’s been up for hours while I feel like a wrung out dishrag. I’m still trying to adjust to her newly dyed purple hair. It had been a pale shade of blue last week. It doesn’t seem to matter what color of hair she has, she always looks amazing—so I guess I can’t blame her for switching the colors like she changes her clothes.
Quinn’s looking at me expectantly, waiting for a response to her question.
I wave a hand at my body hidden beneath the blankets, and my disheveled hair. “It should be obvious.”
She gives me a look. “Gabe’s pissed at you,”
she adds.
My forehead creases with disappointment. “I figured as much.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on inside that head of yours? You never drink that much when I’m not around,” she says with a hint of accusation.
“I hadn’t planned to.” I rub my scratchy eyes and force myself into a sitting position. The sunlight is filtering through the blinds, and my blue and white bedroom looks brighter than usual. Ugh. It’s going to be a long day. “I don’t remember much, to be honest. I was in the mood to go out, and you were already gone.”
“You should have tried calling me.”
“Quinn, you are not my keeper,” I say in a level tone. “Neither is Gabe.”
Her brown eyes soften. “I know, but I care.”
A wry smile forms across my lips. “I know.”
Her head tilts as she studies me. “So what set you off?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
Quinn’s eyes narrow. “Bull. That ‘nothing’ you’re referring to is likely Gabe,” she says dryly.
“He wasn’t home when I left,” I remind.
“Since when does he have to be around to fuck with your mind?” she asks bluntly.
“Quinn,” I warn. She knows how I feel about Gabe, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy talking about him. He’s a topic I typically try to avoid.
“Fine, but just so you know, Mel and her friends brought you home last night. They told Gabe you were wandering around by yourself a few blocks from the party.” She gives me a reproachful look. “Shit like that doesn’t fly around here, so be prepared for an earful from Gabe.”
I’m wincing before she’s even finished speaking. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish,” she says seriously. “As much as I would like to give you my own tongue-lashing for being stupid when you’re usually so annoyingly intelligent, I know Gabe will be harder on you. Good luck with that.”
I make a face at her. “If you don’t go away and leave me in peace, the next time you’re drunk, I’m going to make you miserable the following morning,” I warn.
Blackout (Revolving Door Book 2) Page 1
