Anything More Than Now (Sutton College #2)

by Rebecca Paula

  Noah and I have been walking for a while now, skipping stones into the river, listening as the elk call out as the sun starts to sink behind the mountains. Deep in the valley, stuck under the weight of the big Montana sky, it’s another beautiful summer night.

  “Hold up,” he says behind me.

  I do, fixated on the elk grazing on the other side of river. I turn around, watching him strip down to his boxers with a grin on his face.

  “I’m hot. Let’s go for a swim. The current isn’t too bad here.”

  Sweat trickles down my back but I shrug. “Go ahead, I’ll watch.” I waggle my eyebrows.

  I sit on the rocky bank as he traverses the worn stones, his body gorgeous and perfect and so damn lickable as it moves. Summer washes away his roughness, the gruffness, and those rumors he encourages to push people away. Noah Burke is summer, bright and young and full of life.

  “Careful, Landry, that smile is going to wreck your image.”

  I flip him off before grabbing hold of my knees as he steps into the water. Noah jumps from rock to rock until he’s in the river’s middle then raises his arms, his shoulders flexed, and slices into the water.

  I suck in a breath, jumping to my feet. The river didn’t look that deep, at least I didn’t think so. I walk closer, jumping up onto the smaller rocks until the cold water laps at my feet.

  Noah shoots up from the water, running his hands over his face to wipe off the water beads. He grins, motioning for me to come closer.

  I shake my head, satisfied to dip my toes in and watch him cut through the gentle current.

  Noah shrugs, diving back down, and reappears by the opposite bank. “Afraid of some nature, Rea?”

  Technically, yes. Specifically, the water. “Hurry up,” I say instead, crossing and uncrossing my arms.

  He swims back to shore, dripping as he approaches me. I hold out my hands, trying to block his hug. “Don’t you dare.” Panic rises up between my nervous laugh. I can’t look him in the eye but if he comes closer, if he drags me into that water….

  Noah doesn’t listen, not that he ever does. He grabs me and hauls me over his shoulder, marching us into the river while I kick and fuss and I’m convinced I’m going to die. I’m going to drown in the middle of nowhere Montana and never get to New York City.

  We sink into the water, which covers the back of my thighs as I splash and try to free myself, to reach the shore.

  “You’re going to drown us both, fighter. Calm down. I have you.”

  I relax as much as I can until Noah pulls me fully I’m into the water. I circle myself around his body.

  He’s kicking for the both of us. He leans his forehead against mine and kisses my nose. “Just relax, Rea. I have you.”

  I close my eyes and take a breath.

  “You can’t swim, can you?”

  I shake my head, refusing to look him in the eyes. Between panic and shame and regret, lust burns in my belly at the way he’s slowly drawing me out, calming me down.

  “Let go of my neck, raise your arms.”

  I do, sucking in a breath when he draws off my tank and tosses it onto a nearby rock. His fingers knead up from the base of my spine, pressing me closer as he swims us lazily in a circle.

  I thread my hands into his hair and kiss him gently before tossing my head back to the sky spiraling above me. The water washes away the day’s heat, sinking into my bones. It’s simple and quiet, simpler yet when his lips kiss a path down my neck to my collarbone. It must be his favorite spot because he worships it with his mouth, and suddenly it’s mine as well.

  “Close your eyes and let go, Rea.”

  I do, not questioning him, not even scared that I’ll be floating in the water, my legs still circled around his waist. The water rushes over my torso, washing over my lacy bra. My hair fans out around me. Noah braces his hands over my rib cage, the two of us motionless in the water.

  He bends down and kisses the hollow of my throat. “You’re floating. Open your eyes. I dare you.”

  I do, my heart calmly beating as I open my eyes to the pink sky above, the mountains surrounding the valley, the cool river sending a shiver over my flesh. I feel weightless, suspended in the current. A smile spreads over my lips as push my chin upward, thirsty for his mouth against mine.

  “Don’t move. Stay perfectly still. You’re gorgeous, just like this.” His hand runs down the middle of my chest, then snaps me up so our mouths almost touch. “I won’t let go, Rea, but you’ve got to trust me.”

  I nod, kissing his cheek, wanting every inch of him. Then I let go, falling back into the water with a splash, his hands catching me. He spins us in circles, faster and faster until my laugh pierces the quiet and his laugh follows. I lose myself in the golden light of his eyes, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of my head.

  We’re all just shadows.

  Chapter Eleven

  Reagan

  “We could have more fun if we just went back to the ranch.”

  I roll my eyes at Noah from the passenger side seat. “You’re just afraid to go.” Maybe my guess is right because he rolls his eyes too, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles grow white. “It’s just for a drink. Then we can go back.”

  “I have beer back at the ranch. Why do we need—”

  “Easy, cowboy. I just want to be social and see the sights of Splendid.”

  He mumbles under his breath, cutting the wheel to pull the truck in front of the old bar I saw when we drove into town. I’m not a social butterfly but if I don’t get around some other people, I might lose my mind counting down until I leave for New York. I need distractions. I need memories of Noah Burke, here in the town time forget, before I forget him.

  Once inside, I understand my mistake. The locals who crowd the place give Noah an unwelcoming stare, and they all but crucify me.

  “It’s a small town,” Noah says before ordering us two beers. The bartender directs Noah’s attention to the corner of the room, but Noah shrugs him off, handing me my beer. “We’ll play a quick round of pool, then go. Got it, Landry?”

  I follow the bartender’s point, finding a crowded booth and a tabletop of empty bottles. Over the sound of the TVs and the rest of the customers, it’s hard to make out what everyone at the table is saying. It’s just loud, collected noise. Except when a girl looks up and spots me next to Noah. That’s not collected noise. That’s a look hardened with hate and heartbreak. I swallow the dread welling up inside of me. “Okay, a quick round of pool.”

  My shots are about as scattered as my mind as I try to piece together the story that’s filling up the space in this tiny bar. I hear the whispers of his name, of “no good,” of “killed.” My hand shakes, the cue stick skidding across the faded green felt to push the cue ball into the left pocket.

  “A scratch,” Noah says, running his hand up the length of my neck. He nuzzles against my head. “You seem distracted. Can we go yet?” His lips press against my skin, stealing away time and my sense of place, momentarily quieting the swirling questions filling my brain before a yellow striped ball whizzes past my face.

  I step away from Noah, startled, as the girl from the booth sways, then leans both arms on the table.

  “You’re a fucking bastard,” she slurs out. She tries to point at Noah, only to waver again. “Get out.”

  Noah comes to stand by me. “We’re leaving, Isla,” he says, his voice resigned.

  “And you.” She points to me. Her long black hair is tangled and uncombed, her skin sallow. She’s blanketed in exhaustion, her brown eyes more bloodshot and jaundiced than clear. Her clothes hang loosely on the rail of her body. “He’s going to fucking kill you, too.”

  “Enough.” Noah grabs me, but I pull away. The rest of the bar is quiet now, watching as this woman—Isla—attempts to chuck another pool ball at Noah. It thuds onto the stained felt.

  She mumbles, chucking another. It flies through the air and smashes a bottle at the bar. The men she was with stand from th
e booth and start tugging at her arm, but her glare is glued to me and Noah.

  The pretty story I had spun for us comes untangled, the threads wrapping unmercifully around my heart.

  “Get her out of here, Burke,” the bartender roars.

  A hot rush of air brushes against my neck as Noah steps away and slowly approaches Isla, his hands held out. “Come on, Izzie, I’ll take you home.”

  The other men get angry, and one of them, a guy who looks closer to death than life, wraps his hand around her neck and tugs her toward the door. Everyone is moving forward, pushing and shoving, and I’m left watching as Isla is dragged out in a storm of cursing and fists in the air.

  “I’ll call the cops on you, Burke,” the bartender threatens. “I don’t care if they lock you up again. Keep this shit out of my bar.”

  The door slams shut and I’m left inside, holding the pool cue, wondering what the hell just happened. The small room smells of must and stale beer. I was just a girl having a beer with a guy and now I’ve fallen into his messy chapters, lost to the oblivion of secrets.

  We’re all just shadows.

  I reach into my clutch and throw some cash onto the bar for the broken bottle of rye, then rush outside as the yelling escalates. Isla is sprawled out on the gravel, blood rushing from her nose. Noah’s pinned against a car, surrounded by the men who were with Isla, shouting at them for pushing her to the ground. They’re shouting at him, taunting him. He takes a punch, seemingly unfazed until his eyes meet mine, filled with shame.

  A fist connects with his cheek, whipping his head to the left. Blood flies out of his mouth as bone strikes against bone. Isla paws at her face, the blood gushing down her chin, covering her hands, as she mumbles.

  “Everyone, stop,” I yell. Their attention pins to me as I approach. “Get the hell off of him.” I point at the guys, my phone clutched in my hand. “The cops are coming and you’ll probably want to avoid that. If I had to guess.”

  They back away, crowding near Isla. “Let’s go. Stand up. I’m not touching you covered in blood.”

  Noah flings himself at the taller guy, throwing a right hook. Before things get worse, I wrestle my way closer, getting bumped and hit as I drag Noah out of the middle of everything. He swings again as someone’s elbow collides into my throat. I shove the guy back, then do my best to wrest Noah away. I cup his face in my hands. “Enough. Trust me, enough.”

  He closes his eyes and sighs, then leans around me and spits up another mouthful of blood. “You really needed that beer, huh?”

  “Well—”

  “Get up, bitch. I’m not touching you,” one of the guys barks at Isla.

  Noah charges again, leaning down to haul Isla to her feet. “Then don’t fucking touch her. I’ll take care of her.” The bartender steps out of the bar, his arms crossed over his middle. “We’re leaving, Phil. We’re leaving.”

  Noah carries Isla to the truck and helps her inside. Her head bobs against his shoulder, her hands open to the bloody summer night. He leans around her to secure the seat belt as I climb inside and sit in the back of the cab, my hands shaking.

  It’s quiet for a while, the darkness settling in. Even with the windows down, the cab smells of blood and dirt and way too much alcohol. I wring my hands over my tank top, afraid to ask the big questions hanging over all of us now.

  We’re all shadows.

  “I hate you,” Isla says to Noah. “I fucking hate you and I hope you die like she did. I hope you fucking bleed out.” Her words are a long cord of slurred vowels and consonants. An ugly feeling stirs in my stomach, the phantom memory of my mother pressing into my thoughts. “You have to bring her here? Live your life away from me. Get the fuck away.” She swats at Noah, but he catches her hand in the air, bringing it down to her lap, his eyes never leaving the road.

  “Is someone going to fill me in?” I ask finally. Between sadness and anger, anger wins.

  “I’m his wife,” Isla says, rolling her head over the headrest. Her eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “But he likes to keep that secret.”

  “My ex-wife.” Noah pulls onto a dirt road cloaked in darkness. “You like to forget that.”

  “Like I fucking could.”

  There aren’t any streetlights, and the few porch lights that are around buzz on and off. A dog darts out in front of us, causing Noah to swerve. Isla’s head knocks against the doorframe. A soft, unsettling chuckle fills the cab.

  “You love to forget me. Must be hard to know you ruined my life.”

  Noah throws the truck into park in front of a trailer, his high beams still on. “Enough.” He climbs out, throwing open her door and jumping inside to unbuckle her as though she were a child. “I’m not going to do this right now.”

  “I was good, though, wasn’t I? You loved fucking me. It would have been easier if you didn’t have to love me.”

  “Shut up. Jesus.” He picks her up and carries her to the door. “Just be quiet.” Her long hair swings back and forth against his back, her hands formed in fists as she tries to hit him. A dog barks from inside. Judging by the tenor, it’s a big one. My body tenses and suddenly I’m not sweating, but cold, as if winter swept over the mountains early.

  I climb out and follow after Noah, pushing him aside. “Open the door, Noah, and put her down.”

  “I don’t need your help, bitch.”

  I ignore her as she slumps against me, stretching a hand out to brace herself in the doorway of the empty trailer. She tries to take a step, but her knees give out, and a bloody handprint is left smeared against the white storm door.

  “Get back in the truck, Rea. I can deal with this.”

  I ignore him, too, grabbing hold of Isla to help her walk. Suddenly I’m not in Montana, but back in a trailer in Tennessee with my mother. She crawls up the steps and passes out, stuck on the floor with the door wide open. Kelsey and I try to pull her inside as the mosquitos start eating us alive.

  “Mama doesn’t feel good,” Kelsey tells me as I stand over my mother, trying to hug her. She never hugs me. “She’s messed up again, but we’ll forgive her, right Rea? We have to love her.”

  I nod, even though I’m mad that my mother left us alone in the trailer again for a few days with nothing but a box of stale crackers to eat. If that’s what love is, if it means being hungry and left alone, I’m not sure I like love much.

  “Her bedroom is in the back,” Noah says, pulling me to the present. A dog emerges from the kitchen, tilting its head toward the ceiling as it releases another deep roar. “Shut up, Bear.”

  Bear is the perfect name for the beast that it is, even if the dog does come over and sniff at Isla’s hand, careful. I dart a quick glance behind me at the door, then back to the dog before I guide Isla to the bathroom, set her on the toilet, and find a washcloth. She stares down at me as I sink to my haunches and start to clean away the blood covering her face. Isla is bone and leathery skin and dull eyes. She’s what’s left of someone when they’ve stopped living but haven’t died. I don’t have to ask to understand what’s going on. I spent too much of my life around addicts. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier as she shakes under my touch, her breath heavy with tequila and bitterness.

  A small burning spot in my heart wonders what will become of me in his wake. Will I be strong enough to move on and keep what was supposed to be meaningless to a story of my past? Those few months I fell in love with the wrong boy my senior year of college, the one I shouldn’t love at all….

  Isla mumbles and curses at me, moving from side to side as I clean her up, but I continue. If we’re all shadows, if we all have our secrets, then I know no matter what Noah’s are, I don’t want them retreating to a dark room covered in blood. We all deserve a little dignity.

  We both settle Isla into her room a few minutes later. Bear follows and curls up at the foot of her bed, finally quiet. Her mattress is stained, so are the sheets. She bleeds too easily for me to think this a new problem. I get her a glass of water from the
kitchen and find a few more pillows to prop her up, too afraid to leave even if that’s what I want to do.

  I think back to my mom nodding off, lost to the bliss of heroine. I remember her throwing up while she was passed out, how it crowded her mouth, and how on one day somewhere in Florida, she stopped breathing.

  We leave a few minutes later, silent as our pasts emerge to rip our future apart.

  Noah

  I’m outside as the sun begins to rise the next morning at the ranch, desperate to move and get something right after last night’s disaster. I set up two sawhorses and start trimming the molding for the inside of the house, ignoring everything around me. It’s me and this house and maybe I’m starting to lose my mind a bit, but fuck it all. I don’t care anymore. There must be something I can do in this life without messing it all up. I can’t even take Reagan out for a beer without my past colliding into my future.

  I’m painting the trim hours later, my hand somehow steady with each stroke of the brush, when Reagan comes downstairs. She doesn’t say anything at first, only heads to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. It’s better in the silence. I’d much rather let what shouldn’t be said left without a voice, than say things I’ll regret.

  Of course, I’m not that lucky.

  “We have to talk,” Reagan says, knocking her fist against my leg as I’m up on the ladder. It wobbles and she doesn’t spot me so I’m going out on a limb that she’s pissed.

  “There’s a lot of work I need to get done today. Can’t it wait?” I don’t look down at her afraid it won’t be the ladder that topples, but my own self-will.

  “Fine, be an asshole.” She walks to the front door and pauses. “I didn’t give up my time for you to hide away. If you want it to be over, say it and I’ll leave for New York now.”

  I wipe the sweat away from my forehead with the back of my hand. Even with the windows open, the house is an oven on a day as hot as today. “I’m not going to do this. If you have something to say, then just fucking say it. You want to leave, then leave. Don’t make me out to be the bad guy.”