by Anna Bloom
Another long pause that I felt a desperate need to break stretched between us.
“If it wasn’t guilt, Jack, or fear, what was it keeping you away?” I pressed. If I could get some clarity on what happened that night all those years ago, maybe I could understand him now. I wanted to understand him… the hatred, the animosity. He’d made me cry more this week with his vindictive bullying in the practice room then he ever had when I was a lovesick teenager with a crush on her brother’s best friend.
His expression flickered with a dark animosity. “I can’t say.”
“Here we go.” Letitia placed a mountain of beignets on the table along with a side of bacon and a pile of scrambled egg. “Eat up both of you. I don’t know what ya discussing but it looks like you need some fuel inside you to get the other side.”
The smell of cinnamon and bacon smacked me straight in the senses and my mouth watered, while a terrible raw aching for home pulled me apart from the inside out. Grams… Luca… I closed my eyes for a moment, my brain flickering images of hot summer days, a kick of dust in the air, shouts of Luca and Blue playing ball. If I tried hard enough, I could remember the feel of cool tile beneath my thighs as I sat on the back step waiting for Blue to look at me, which he always did eventually.
I startled my eyes open at a gentle touch across the back of my hand. Jack’s face wore a small smile. “That’s why I come here. It smells like home.”
Not knowing if he would pull away, I quickly turned my hand and grasped his fingers. He stiffened but didn’t move. “You can go home, Jack. Please go home to see your mom. She misses you; we all do.”
“I can’t.” He pulled his hand back. “Now eat up, we’ve got to get back to practice. It’s only a few days until the gala and if you don’t improve it will be you going back home, whether you want to or not.”
We climbed out of the car back on campus, my tummy straining against the waistband of my shorts—officially the most I’d eaten in ages. I still had a million-and-one unanswered questions, but his closed expression, the pressed lips, the firm grip on the steering wheel in the car on the way back had told me not to bother asking them—not yet anyway.
He popped the trunk and grabbed my violin case. I waited for him to thrust it in my direction, but he didn’t, letting it swing at his side as we worked our way over to Emmerson.
My heart was the only sound I could hear as we walked in silence, until the ring of my phone in my bag broke the heavy atmosphere.
Jack’s shoulders, one step ahead of me stiffened and I didn’t stop to look at my phone. No chance I wanted him angry before another torturous practice session—if I hadn’t already set sail to that ship with my, ‘Your dad is still alive’, revelation.
How had he not known? Not checked?
What the hell had he been running from if it wasn’t that?
My phone rang again, and he sighed. All I wanted was an easy smile, the flash of those greens to make my stomach flip.
Those things didn’t exist anymore—I needed to get with the program.
“Are you going to get that?” he asked, turning the handle for the practice room.
“Ugh. I’m sure it’s not important.”
The phone rang again… Jack’s eyebrow raised.
Dropping my gaze from the dark attention of Jack-I’m-still-an-asshole-Cross, I unzipped my bag, the drag of the zip getting stuck on the canvas filling the silence with a ripping sound. “Shit. Fuck, shit.”
“Here.” He pulled the bag from my hand without waiting for me to agree. “Seriously, Lyra, you can’t even work a backpack, let alone a violin.”
My cheeks stung with a mild burn at his words, but in truth he wasn’t wrong.
With strong, dexterous fingers that made my tongue tingle with dryness, he ripped open the zip. I gasped as he rifled through my stuff and fished out my phone, checking the screen with barely controlled contempt.
How could he make me shrink to about five inches tall in less than thirty seconds?
He thrust the phone at me as it started to ring again: Luca.
“Hey, what’s up?” I rushed. Jack turned his back and finished opening the door, pushing it through with so much force it bounced off the wall of the room.
Yikes.
“Just checking in, little sis.”
“Luca, for goodness’ sake I’m in practice.” I stared at Jack’s back with longing. “My tutor is a dick.”
“Of course he is; he’s challenged by your natural talent for laziness,” Luca mocked.
“I am not lazy.”
Jack, who was opening the piano, glanced up at me. Was that a smirk on his face? No shitting way.
“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.” Luca’s voice softened.
“Sorry, I’ve been busy. I got a job.”
Silence met my announcement.
“Luca?”
He sighed. “Lyra, you didn’t need to do that. If you send money home, Grams will kick your ass.” Another sigh, this time heavier, weighted. “You could have asked me if you needed more cash.”
“I don’t need cash, Luca.”
Jack’s greens flicked in my direction from where he sat on the piano stool.
“Where’s the job?”
“In a bar.” I couldn’t say the name… not entirely sure why. “They play live music. They even have a church on Sunday.”
“Thought you didn’t do church anymore.”
“I don’t.” I didn’t add that I might be able to get onboard with the type of church where tequila is served.
Luca would be straight on the freeway to read me the riot act.
“Okay, be safe, you know the rules… I won’t tell Grams, but you will at Christmas.”
I scrunched my face. I’d add that to conversations I’d rather not have. “I’m always safe. Evan the owner organizes rides for the staff to get home.”
Jack ran his fingers over the keys of the piano, tinkling a pretty tune that made my skin flourish with goose bumps. He wore a smirk on his face, that left corner lip hitch curling his mouth.
Heat prickled the back of my neck. Why was he smiling? He was all about the scowl these days.
“Anyway, why are you calling? I’m kinda busy.”
Another flicker of a smile.
“I wanted to tell you that Raven and I have worked things out.”
On a quick spin I checked to see if the windows were open so I could launch my phone. “Really? Why? Did she not shank you enough the first time around?”
“Yeah well, I guess I realized I’ve been a bit of a dick for a while.” Luca laughed nervously.
“A while? Only the last four years, dickwad.”
Jack’s gaze settled on my face, not even hiding it this time.
“Yeah, well, I’m not proud.”
‘So you and Raven? I mean, if you’re expecting my blessing, it aint gonna happen.”
“Lyra…”
“No, Luca. That bitch used me. You know that. You just think with your dick and that’s as far as it gets. Well I hope it fucking falls off.”
“Lyra—”
“Bye, Luca.”
I stabbed the screen of my phone trying to shut off the call as tears burned my eyes.
Fucking Luca.
Such a douche.
He always had been, and he showed little chance of improving with age. What Luca definitely was not, was a fine wine. He’d always be a cheap bottle, okay for getting a hit but that’s it.
“Lyra.” Long fingers took my phone. A gentle pressure lifted my chin and I met Jack’s gaze. God, curse me now. I’d do anything to fall into that pool of dirty green.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack
I tucked her phone into my back pocket. “Raven Smoake, hey?” This bordered on almost friendly behavior. I needed to pull it back, but at the same time I needed to know. Lyra had given me enough revelations in the space of one breakfast.
My dad was still alive.
It left a strange sensation rolling in my stomach. Happy and relieved or pissed off that the job hadn’t been done right. That I’d stayed away for four years on the pretense of a failed bargain.
Fuck it.
FUCK. IT.
Shaking myself back into the moment I refocused on the hilarious scowl Lyra had scored on her face. “She’s a ho,” she ground out, and hell, if I could keep a smile from curling my lips.
“Well yes, she’s Raven Smoake. She’s only ever been one thing.”
“You should know, shouldn’t you, Jack?” Her pale eyes narrowed into the slits of an angry cat about to bash the hell out of a mouse.
Oh, Raven Smoake… Yep. That plan had backfired.
“Sadly, yes.” I cleared my throat and stepped away. “But I can assure you, Lyra, Luca is having an amazing time.” I winked, just to hammer home what a great time I’d had with Raven. Lyra didn’t need to know that the events of that long-gone September were nothing more than another of one my failed pretenses.
She curled her top lip.
“Okay, practice.” I motioned to her violin I’d absentmindedly got out of its case while she talked to her asshole brother.
“Wait.” She held her palm up and I focused on a long-forgotten scar across her palm. Fuck, I’d forgotten that scar was even there. I’d only ever remembered the red two-piece from that afternoon.
I almost reached for it. Almost… not quite.
“Yes, Lyra.” I extended the words, giving a bored sigh.
“Why do you keep turning up at Blue’s bar to drive me home?”
“Jesus, you make it sound like I’m there every night.”
“I’ve only worked three shifts and you’ve been there for every one.”
Annoyingly right. “The first one didn’t count.”
“Hmm.” That blue stare that felt like it could scorch layers into my skin watched me carefully. “And the other two?”
I sighed, moving away from her and pinching the bridge of my nose. This girl created migraines, always had. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. Okay.”
She watched me still, not commenting.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re so mean to me here. You’ve been vile, like you don’t even know who the hell I am, even though I’ve known you my entire life.” She hesitated, but fire burned bright in her eyes. “I thought that the Blue I used to know had gone.” She stepped closer. She didn’t need to touch me for my skin to ripple with desire.
So fucked up.
I hated her. Hated him. Had to stay focused on the hate.
Especially after this morning’s revelations.
How could I though, when her breath, sweet with the tang of sugar and cinnamon fanned between us?
“But now I think he is still there, he’s just been really lost.” Her chest heaved.
She reached for my face, but I caught her wrist, holding her at bay. “Lyra. Blue doesn’t exist, get used to it. Now, let’s practice. Think you can play today?”
That fire still kindled in her gaze. “I can try.”
I dipped my head toward her, whispering in her ear, “Lyra Bird, you’ve got to do more than try.”
Damn it to all hell.
With that one slip of her nickname I let her back in, and Blue, the little boy lost, waited for her with delight.
It was official. I was screwed. Now the only choice to make was who I’d destroy in my downfall.
My dad was alive.
The man I hated more than anything could be my only witness to me going home. No matter what Lyra thought, she’d only been a child back then, I knew the truth. Even my own mother thought I’d killed my dad. The question that had always remained was why the fuck hadn’t I done it before?
“Come on. Let’s try Romance again.” I motioned for the piano and sat down on the stool.
She nodded. I caught her swallow as she bent down to pick up her violin. “Romance. Let’s try that again.” Her bright stare cut to mine.
Yep. Damn it all to hell.
She lowered her violin, her fingers shaking, her gaze anywhere but at me. “I’m late for English. I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Okaaay,” I frowned. “Personally, I think you should see Greene today. You might not be able to play when he wants to hear you.” I wasn’t being mean, just stating a fact. “And hold on, what do you mean Wednesday? You have a session tomorrow morning, in fact every morning between now and graduation.” A ripple of excitement unexpectedly flashed through me.
“I’m busy tomorrow.” She didn’t meet my gaze. “And I can’t miss my lecture now.”
Lyra, the Lyra I remembered listening to while my dad tore through our house, through my mother like a hurricane, had just played for me again. Now she was running? Running was my thing in our somewhat checkered history.
“Well I’m sorry, but yes to practice tomorrow, and what’s so important about English today that you can’t miss the start while I go and grab the Professor?”
“I can’t. I don’t want to be late, it’s Heathcliff.” Her eyes flickered to mine, but then dropped almost instantly. Her skin, paler than her usual covered with sweat.
“You’ve always loved Heathcliff.” I shot her a small smile, not that she looked at it.
She straightened a little and turned away, slamming her violin back in the case and snapping the latches down. “And if I remember correctly you always teased me for it.”
“Maybe I understand him better now.”
This made her stop, made her gaze fire around to read my face. “You’ve read Wuthering Heights?” She barely concealed her scoff.
“Maybe.”
“You’re so full of shit, Jack Cross. She hauled up her backpack, almost hitting me in the process. I knew she was going to use it like a weapon eventually—even accidentally.
“What’s wrong?” I caught her wrist. “I thought this was better. I didn’t shout and you played. You played beautifully, Lyra.”
Lyra bit down on her bottom lip. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
Whatever. The woman was an enigma. It hit me with a slap to the face that she actually was a woman now, a thought I’d blocked for the last couple of weeks. “Fine. Go.”
She left without a backward glance, leaving me with an unsatisfied gnawing in the pit of my stomach.
What was that?
I mean she actually played... mesmerizingly so in fact. More than beautiful, a word I didn’t know how to use would describe it better.
Why wasn’t she happy? Surely she’d want that, right?
A knock landed against the door, and for a split-second I thought it could be her coming back, until I remembered her beloved twisted Heathcliff was being discussed the other side of campus and there was little chance she’d stay away from that.
“Hi,” I called out. The door opened and a blonde head poked through the gap. Ugh, one of the musical bimbos.
“Hi, Mr. Cross?”
“Yes...” Tell me your name please because I sure as shit don’t remember.
“Brittany.”
“What can I do for you? I was just finishing up. I need to get the lecture hall set up for Professor Greene.”
“Oh I know. I went to see him first. I told him I was having problems with some practical I need to complete, and he’d told me you were the one to come to.”
“Right, well I’ve finished for the morning. I can possibly schedule some time with you next week once the first fundraiser is over.”
She edged herself in the room, closing the door behind her. Funny the room felt more constricted then it did with Lyra in it. You’d think it would be the other way around. “He said that too but told me to tell you he could spare you for half an hour, there wasn’t much you needed to do.”
Clearly Greene didn’t know I had to stalk down the English corridors. I sighed. I couldn’t show preferential treatment.
“Violin right, Brittany?”
She blushed and giggled. “You remember
ed.”
“Yep, it’s my job,” I retorted with an edge of acid that went straight over her pretty little head.
She sat on the stool next to me, her thigh pressed against mine as she leaned over to get her instrument out. Coughing, I tried to shift away as much as I could without seeing my ass on the floor.
Her top displayed all her assets. I literally couldn’t help but notice, her tits were almost in my face.
“Okay, so what are you having problems with?”
She smiled and lifted her violin, crooking it under her chin before launching into an almost angry assault on the strings.
“You sound fine to me.”
“Do you think?” She carried on playing, “It feels stilted to me. You know, I heard that Lyra Lennox, the Collins kid, can’t play.”
“Who told you that?” I smiled wide, hoping to lure her into telling me more. If rumors were spreading, Greene would hear about them sooner than if jungle drums were beating fast and loud.
“Everyone knows. She hasn’t played for the class. She’s barely even focused during lecture time. For group practice she’s... well... she’s no natural talent.”
Silence was best. Whatever I said now could be used in any which way against me.
“That makes me think she got her scholarship not for her violin skills.”
“That’s ridiculous. The Collins family have a high standing reputation.”
Brittany raised her eyebrows. “I wonder what Lyra would think if she knew she’d got her ride based on her skin color.”
“Brittany! I don’t know how you think you know all this.”
“Well you aren’t the only one to get close to a Collins family member.” She giggled as she watched my face.
Ugh, fucking Alex Collins. I flexed my fingers instead of tightening them into their habitual fist.
I glanced down at my watch. “Right, I have to go now.”
“You know, Mr. Cross, my daddy is pretty wealthy too, maybe even more so.”
I doubted this. Unless he was the President of the United States, I doubt he’d have a patch on the stinking old money of the Collins family. I was about to say this when her hand landed on my knee, at the same time the door opened. Pale-blue eyes opened wide in shock.
