by Joanna Wylde
“I want it, too.”
That was enough. Groaning, Boonie caught my mouth again, even as he shoved up my skirt. I spread for him and his fingers traced the lines of my opening through the silky fabric of my panties. Then he found my clit, creating waves of sensation and need as my body recognized his.
He teased me like that for an eternity.
Boonie still hadn’t touched my skin directly but I felt the pressure building. Finally he pushed the thin fabric of my thong aside and slid one strong, roughened finger into me. Holy. Hell. I squeezed around him, unable to control myself. He ripped his mouth free to look at me. His eyes were wild and his breath came in deep, shuddering gasps.
“That’s the hottest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt,” he said, and while the words might not’ve been romantic, they were about the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.
“It’ll feel better around your cock,” I whispered, feeling a thrill of feminine power.
Boonie closed his eyes at my words, those little muscles in his jaw flexing over and over. He seemed to be fighting some sort of battle with himself. I took the opportunity to push up his shirt.
Then I leaned forward and very deliberately licked his nipple.
He exploded into action, ripping his finger out of me. He took a step back and I felt suddenly cold and alone. For an instant, I thought he was leaving.
That devastated me.
He was mine. We belonged together.
Then Boonie’s hands found his pants, jerking his fly open, and I realized he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d gone commando, and my mouth fell open as his stiffened cock burst free. It was big and hard and all too ready to fill me.
I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
The sound of a condom package opening reached my ears. Boonie caught his dick in his hand, pumping it twice before smoothing the rubber down its length.
I shifted, meaning to slip off my thong. He didn’t give me the chance, catching my hips and jerking them just off the edge of the tomb. I fell back on my hands. His fingers shoved the narrow strip of fabric to the side, then I felt the head of his cock pressing into my opening.
“So fuckin’ good,” he groaned, sliding into me with an endless stroke that stretched the limits of my capacity. Reality narrowed, every part of me utterly focused on the feel of him deep inside. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back.
Strong hands caught my hips, sliding me closer to him.
His hips started moving faster, but it wasn’t quite enough. I needed more. Reaching down between us, I found my clit and started rubbing it in time with his strokes.
His cock swelled and he moaned.
“Keep doing that,” he gasped. “Hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”
Didn’t have to ask me twice. I rubbed harder, the pulsing waves of pleasure just out of reach. Boonie’s hands slid down around my ass, grabbing my cheeks and squeezing them roughly. That changed his angle. Suddenly his cock was slamming into some spot deep inside that I’d never felt before.
“Oh, shit . . .” I whimpered, fingers flying against my clit. So close. So. Fucking. Clo—the orgasm exploded through me, my back arching as I clamped down around him. Hard. Boonie’s cock thickened and pulsed as he came, grinding his hips against mine.
I opened my eyes slowly, looking overhead to see a thousand stars floating above. Reality filtered in. In the distance I heard faint music and shouting.
Boonie leaned down, kissing me soft and slow.
“Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening now,” he whispered. “You should’ve dumped his ass earlier, before I signed papers.”
Stretching like a cat, I savored the ache between my legs. Who knew sex could be that good? And to think, I’d thought sleeping with Farell was nice . . . he had nothing on Boonie.
“Signed papers for what?” I whispered, wondering how long it would take him to recover. I definitely wanted to do this again. Soon.
“The Marines. I leave for San Diego the day after tomorrow. Basic training.”
My breath caught.
“Why?” I asked, wondering how the thought could hurt so much. We weren’t dating. I had no hold on him—hell, up until an hour ago I’d been with someone else. Someone I was supposed to love. But how could you love one guy and then sleep with another?
Boonie gave a harsh laugh.
“Because there’s nothing for me in Callup,’’ he replied, his tone bitter. “You’ve made that pretty fuckin’ clear this year, Darce. I finally got the message. My dad was a jarhead, figured if it was good enough for him, it’ll be good enough for me.”
I had no idea what to say. More shouting cut the air, louder this time, and the music stopped. Shit, that was Farell. I recognized his angry, drunken ranting. A truck door slammed, and I heard the sound of wheels spinning out on gravel and the roar of an engine.
Boonie leaned his forehead against mine.
“I want you in my bed,” he said. “I want—”
A sudden, horrific crashing noise filled the air, all shrieking metal and shattering glass. Boonie pulled away and I sat up, adrenaline surging.
“What was that?”
“Accident,” he muttered, zipping up his pants. I heard screams in the distance. “Stay here.”
Boonie took off down the hillside toward the road. I followed him, lurching through gravestones in the darkness, hoping I didn’t fall and break my neck.
When I reached the embankment overlooking the road, I nearly fainted.
The pickup truck from the party—the one holding the big speakers that they’d used to haul the kegs—had rolled sideways down the bank from the cemetery driveway, crashing across the road below to land in the creek.
“Dear God . . .”
Someone was screaming in the wreckage, and I heard shouting all around. Boonie was already climbing down to the shattered vehicle.
More boys followed him, falling over their own feet as they ran.
I slid down the bank on my butt to find Boonie peering inside the cab of the upside down truck. High-pitched, horrific cries came from inside.
“Jesus Christ,” Boonie shouted, looking up to find me. “Stay back, Darce. You shouldn’t see this.”
“Who is it?’’ I asked, my throat tight. He shook his head, refusing the answer. The screams turned to a pain-filled keening.
“Who is it?!” I shrieked. “Tell me!”
“We need an ambulance,” he yelled back. “The trailer park’s less than a mile away. Someone needs to get down there, make the call.”
“Answer my fucking question—who is it?”
“It’s Farell,” he said, unreadable emotions flashing across his face. “He was driving. Allie’s in there, too. It’s bad, Darcy. Real bad.”
________
I wasn’t sure if I should go to the hospital—what are you supposed to do when the guy you just broke up with gets in an accident? Even though Farell and I weren’t together any more, when Boonie asked me to come home with him, I said no. My head was too confused, a mass of emotion, guilt, and raw terror that Farell would die.
I hadn’t been driving the truck, but I knew my boyfriend. Knew how he was when he got drunk. I’d humiliated him publicly and then left the party with his biggest rival—I should’ve seen this coming. Stopped it somehow.
Instead I’d been busy fucking Riley Boone on a grave. Jesus. What the hell was wrong with me?
Shanda offered me a ride, which I took over Boonie’s protests. I couldn’t look at him right now. Not that he’d done anything wrong—I just felt so guilty. What kind of girl sleeps with another guy right after breaking up with the boy she loved?
We planned to go back to the trailer park but found ourselves driving around aimlessly instead, neither of us sure what to say. Eventually I couldn’t stand it anymore—I had to know if he was all right—so we drove to the hospital in Kellogg. But when we pulled up to the emergency room I wasn’t sure it was the right move.
“Should I go inside?” I asked
Shanda, feeling sick to my stomach. “What if he’s dead?’’
The thought was almost unbearable. Yes, I’d broken up with Farell—after dating him for eighteen months. He was my first and I’d thought he’d be my last. Oh, God . . .
“I’m here with you,” Shanda said, reaching over to catch my hand. “We’ll just check and see how they’re doing.”
I nodded, unfastening my seat belt. The sliding ER doors gaped obscenely as we walked in together, holding hands.
Half the high school waited in the lobby.
I saw Bryce and Erin huddled together along the wall. Both were crying. Clumps of young people I’d grown up with surrounded them, wiping their eyes.
“Bitch,” someone hissed as I walked past. Shanda spun around, glaring, but everyone looked away.
“Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up,” Colby said, striding toward me. Wow. Hadn’t seen that coming. He caught me up in a tight hug, and I felt myself start to tremble. Finally I pulled free, and swallowed.
I had to know.
“Tell me,” I said. “Are they . . .?”
Colby swallowed, his eyes red and puffy.
“Allie is gone.”
The words cut through me. No. It couldn’t be true.
“But she was screaming,” I said, shaking my head. “She was awake. We all heard her. How can she be . . . dead?”
My throat choked as I whispered the word. This was too awful, too real. How had a stupid party turned into Allie dying? Suddenly I didn’t care that I’d hated her, or that she’d slept with my boyfriend—we’d known each other since kindergarten, and now I’d never see her again. Not even a bitch like Allie deserved that.
And if she was dead, what about him?
“She lost consciousness in the ambulance,” Colby continued. “She was bleeding inside her head. They did emergency surgery but her heart stopped on the table. They couldn’t save her.”
“Oh my God,’’ I whispered. More guilt slammed through me—I’d wished her dead and now she was. I felt like I was going to throw up. Swallowing, I forced myself to ask the hardest question of all. “What about Farell?”
“He’s in surgery right now,’’ Colby said. “Nobody knows what’s going on. His parents are waiting in the chapel.”
He nodded toward a small door against the far wall.
“His mom’s been asking for you,” he added, his voice cracking.
Now I really needed to throw up. Renee Evans had been so incredibly good to me. When I’d first met her I expected her to hate me—after all, her golden boy had dragged home a girl from the trailer park. By valley standards I wasn’t even close to good enough for him. But Renee never cared about any of that. She’d welcomed me with open arms, and eventually I spent more time at their house than my own. I hadn’t let myself think about that until now—breaking up with Farell meant giving her up, too.
Pulling away from Colby, I walked over to the bathroom as fast I could without drawing even more attention. Thankfully it was clearly labeled and easy to find, because I barely made it inside before I started puking.
Everything tasted like beer and bile and betrayal.
“Darcy, is that you?’’ a familiar voice asked outside the stall. I stilled, clutching the toilet for support. Renee.
“I’m in here,’’ I managed to say.
“Thank God,” she said. “Are you all right?”
Better than Allie, I thought, feeling a touch hysterical.
“I don’t think any of us are all right.”
“Come out,’’ Renee replied softly. “I need to see you, sweetheart.”
She didn’t know, I realized. She still thought me and Farell were together, that I had a right to be here. What would she say when she found out? I flushed the toilet and stood, bracing myself. Then I stepped out of the stall.
Renee looked like hell.
Her hair hadn’t been combed and her clothes didn’t match. Way out of character, but I guess when your son’s been in an accident you don’t take the time to coordinate your outfit. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she gave me a small, brave smile as she held out her arms.
I couldn’t do it.
“Renee, I need to tell you something.”
“I already know—or at least I know enough,” she said softly. “Bryce told me about your fight. Farell had another girl with him. But I know you care about him and right now I could really use your support.”
Falling into her arms, I hugged her tight and sobbed. Everything was still awful and I was confused and scared, but just being close to her I felt better than I had all night.
“How is he?’’ I finally managed to ask.
“He’s in surgery right now,” she said, rubbing my back. “They told me his spine was crushed. We’re not sure exactly what that will mean in the long run, but it can’t be good. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, Darcy. I just don’t know. I’d like you to come wait with us, though. I think Farell would want that.”
I shook my head—she was wrong. Farell wouldn’t want that at all.
“You know, Marcus and I have been married for twenty years now,’’ she said softly. “That’s a long time—you learn after a while that you can’t judge a relationship by any one thing. People make mistakes. You have to look at all of it when you judge a man. Please come with me, Darcy. Maybe you don’t want to do it for Farell right now, so do it for me. You’ve been like my own daughter this past year. Help me get through this. Please.”
I nodded slowly, because what else could I do? Taking a minute to wash my face, I followed her back to the chapel.
________
He didn’t get out of surgery until nine the next morning. It was a success, in that he was still alive. We wouldn’t know about brain damage until he woke up.
If he woke up.
I stayed at the hospital with Renee and her husband until late afternoon. That’s when Shanda came looking for me.
“Let me take you home,” she said. “You need a shower and some rest.”
“Will you be all right?” I asked Renee. She nodded, her eyes heavy.
“Get some sleep,’’ she replied softly. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”
Thankfully, Shanda seemed to understand that I needed quiet so she didn’t pester me with questions as we drove. We pulled into the trailer park around six p.m., and I saw a motorcycle in front of my house.
Boonie.
He was waiting on the porch, his face shadowed. I got out of the car and walked over to him.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
We studied each other, and for once I didn’t feel any kind of attraction. I didn’t feel anything at all—I was hollow. Used up.
Exhausted.
“I heard about Allie,” he said quietly. “Bad shit.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice catching. “Farell’s in rough shape, too. They don’t know when he’ll wake up, or whether he’ll ever walk again. I guess it’s pretty unlikely. It was a bad accident.”
“So you were with his family . . . What does that mean?’’
I shrugged, wishing I had an answer.
“I have no idea,” I replied softly. “I don’t know what to think about any of it. I’m just so tired . . .
“And us?”
His eyes bore through me, black as coal. I studied him, remembering how he’d felt deep inside me. It’d been good. The best I’d ever had, that was for sure. But what did having sex together really mean? He’d slept with half the senior girls this past year.
“So you’re leaving tomorrow?’’ I asked after a long pause. He nodded.
“Yeah, I have to be at the Spokane airport by five in the morning.”
“Wow.”
“You need to sleep,” he said finally. I blinked. He was right—I did.
“You want to come inside?” I asked. “My dad’s home, but he won’t care.”
He probably wouldn’t notice. Between the beer and the painkillers, he’d turned into a per
manent lump in front of the TV. Boonie nodded, standing and reaching out his hand. I took it, then led him to my bedroom, where we collapsed together on my twin-sized bed. I’d like to say we made sweet love all night, or that we talked and it was beautiful and special.
The truth is that I passed out in his arms and didn’t wake up for fourteen hours. By the time I stumbled out of bed he was gone, but I found a note. He’d promised to write to me.
I took a shower and went back to the hospital.
________
FOUR DAYS LATER
“He wants to talk to you privately,” Marcus told me, his eyes weary. Farell had been in a medically induced coma since the accident to let his brain heal. They’d woken him that morning, but I’d had to work and couldn’t be there. I’d come over right after finishing my shift, still wearing my uniform.
Glancing toward the ICU door, I swallowed. I felt like a giant phony, waiting at the hospital like I had a right to be here. Renee seemed to appreciate it so much, though, and even Marcus looked happy to see me.
I couldn’t understand it at first. Then Shanda pointed out that I was more than someone to sit with in the waiting room. I was a living, breathing tie to their son.
It was a lot of pressure.
Now I found myself walking into Farell’s room, wondering why the hell I was putting myself through this. He lay on the bed, hardly looking like himself. Between the bruises, the tubes, and the casts, he could’ve been an extra on a hospital drama.
His eyes opened as I sat beside him carefully.
“Darcy?” he asked in a rough, painful whisper. “Are you really here? I’ve been having dreams . . .”
“It’s me,” I said, blinking back tears. Fuck. I still cared about him—I’d come to that unwelcome realization after the second day of sitting in the hospital. Guess that’s one of life’s little jokes.
Feelings don’t just turn off.
“I talked to Bryce earlier,” he said. “I don’t remember graduation at all, or the accident. Dad told me Allie Stockwell is dead”—his voice broke—“and that I was driving the car. I killed her, Darcy. I was drunk.”
I cleared my throat, blinking rapidly.
“Yeah, that’s what happened.”
