Bet on Me (Bet on Love #2)

by Rachel Higginson

  My initial reaction was confusion. I thought we were talking about Ellie. But then I realized she meant her mom. She hadn’t talked to her mom in thirteen years and now her mom wanted to see her.

  I sat there for a minute trying to figure out what I would do if that were me. I couldn’t even put myself in her place.

  My parents had been nothing but a united support system over my entire life. Sure, they could be intense, and their expectations could feel painful sometimes. But they loved each other. And they loved us kids. That was never in question.

  They would never have left each other. If for no other reason than because they wouldn’t have left us kids. Not for anything.

  So I couldn’t even make my mind imagine what Britte had been through. Her mother had left her when she was just a kid. What kind of mother did that? I really wanted to know, so I asked her, “Why? Why would your mother do that to you? God, that sounds awful.”

  She dragged her gaze to mine, blinking away the wateriness. “What?”

  “I don’t get it,” I told her honestly. “She had you. She had a responsibility to you. Having beef with your dad is one thing, but you deserved more, Britte. I’m sorry you had to have her as your mother.”

  My gaze stayed riveted to hers, watching the play of emotions flicker through the depths. Her eyeliner had smudged in the corners, and her hair was a little wilder than when I’d picked her up.

  She looked like a feral creature like this, a wounded animal that was ready to maul the first poor idiot that stumbled along to try and help.

  Irrational fear curled in my gut. At the same time, a punch of appreciation socked me in the chest. This girl, this wild, untamed goddess was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to me.

  But she was more than that.

  She was more than pretty looks and interesting personality. She had depth to her, hidden wounds she didn’t show to anybody. She had dreams and goals and desires. She was a flame that burned as hotly as the sun, but only if you knew her.

  She only showed it to you if you somehow made it past all of her miles and miles of defenses, over those thorn-covered walls, across the mine fields and boggy quicksand, and managed to get to the heart of her.

  Her voice shook as she finally replied, “I’m sorry she’s my mother too.”

  I decided I wouldn’t let her scare me. I wouldn’t let fear of her pulling away or running away bother me. This girl needed truth.

  She needed to know someone saw her fire and wasn’t afraid of it.

  “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see her, though. She’s still your mother.”

  A bitter laugh fell out of her mouth. “Wow, Beckett, I had no idea you knew so much about my life. This is amazing.” She stood up. “You’re amazing. You know that? You have your perfect family and your perfect life and your perfect…perfect you…and so you can just sit where you are and judge me. Is that right? Just tell me how to live my life?”

  “That’s not what I’m doing.” Was that what I was doing? “I’m not judging you. And I’m not telling you how to live your life. I just think maybe your judgment is clouded.”

  “I didn’t even tell you anything about it! I said like three sentences. You have no idea what’s going on in my life. None. You’re hung up on this one little kiss we had forever ago, but there’s nothing here. Not really. You’re just a dog with a bone.”

  “You’re the one that’s wrong, Britte. You have no idea what’s going on. You think I’m stuck on that kiss, and maybe I am because that was a hot fucking kiss. But that’s not what has me dating you. That’s not enough for me to go through all this with you and still want to keep going. Trust me on that. You’re a hell of a lot of work, woman. There better be a whole lot more than a kiss at the end of this.”

  She took a step back, horrified by my words. I didn’t think what I’d said was that scary, but this was Britte. Who knew what was going on in her complicated head?

  “I want to go home.”

  We hadn’t even ordered a beer yet. “Fine,” I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her.

  She turned around and walked out to my Charger, sitting like a king in the middle of the parking lot. God, that car was something else.

  I watched the fiery woman stomping her way toward it. But even my pride and joy couldn’t compare to her.

  Would her fire burn me? Hell, yes.

  It had already started to leave marks.

  And it still wasn’t enough.

  I was ready for more. Maybe I’d take a whole goddamn bath in it.

  We drove back to her apartment in tense silence. I couldn’t even begin to guess the thoughts in her head or if she would ever talk to me again after today.

  I probably should have been questioning whether or not I would ever talk to her again, too. But my thoughts on that we crystal clear.

  Hell, yes.

  I had a lot to figure out in my life right now, but Britte Nichols wasn’t one of them.

  She’d already made her mark. Left her burn. Peaked my curiosity until I knew there would be no stopping until I’d gotten to the bottom of her. Until I’d uncovered every mystery, surprise, and secret scar.

  Chapter Twelve

  Britte

  I didn’t understand. And by that, I meant, I had no clue what the hell was happening around me.

  There was a guy up front, a grad student, not the professor. And he was going on and on and on and my brain couldn’t even begin to hope to comprehend the words he was saying.

  I felt like a first year trapped in the final exams of my senior year. This may as well have been a class in Russian.

  My fingers moved over my laptop keyboard as I struggled to take notes on concepts I hoped I could figure out later. There was reading I had missed for today. I’d somehow forgotten to write it down in my planner.

  Sure, it was on the syllabus, but the first day of every class, I tried to plan out all of the homework, day by day, week by week, so I knew what I had to study for or read throughout the semester. Sure, my days got filled up fast, and as the semester went on, I would only add to those already tightly packed days. But somehow I’d missed this.

  And instead of double-checking my planner with my syllabus on Sunday, like I usually did, I’d been on a date with Beckett, ruining any chance of there ever being another date.

  Ever.

  Oh, my God, I just wrote Beckett instead of biology.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Class wrapped up slowly…painfully slowly. I wanted to pull my hair out by the end of it. But at least it was my last class for the day.

  All of my classes had pretty much gone this way. This last one was made slightly better by the fact that nobody asked me a question I had to fumble my way through.

  Like my first class of the day.

  Teacher: “Nichols, what is the distinguishing characteristic of a P-type pump?”

  Me: “Uh, the…P?” Head to desk.

  Answer: It must be phosphorylated during the cycle.

  Duh.

  My professor had asked me if everything was okay after the end of class. I’d lied and told her that I had been up late studying for a quiz in a different class, and my brain was too tired to retain any other information right now.

  She’d completely understood.

  What was also sad, was that she hadn’t been surprised at my answer.

  Apparently, that was not an uncommon response.

  I was officially worried for health care across the country.

  College was this weird thing. I grew up thinking doctors were these super smart human beings that could never be wrong because it was their job not to be wrong. The same with teachers. And scientists. And business owners.

  But now I went to school with the future versions of all of those things. I was going to be a doctor. Me! Not anytime soon, but eventually…one day.

  I mean, did I trust myself? Did I think I could retain all of this information and one day be responsible for the p
rimary care of all my imaginary patients?

  Or what about Ellie who would one day be a psychologist? Sure, she was brilliant and intuitive and quick. But she was also too afraid to do her laundry in the complex laundry room because it was in the basement and there wasn’t a window.

  What if I get trapped down there, B? What if nobody can hear me scream?

  And her boyfriend, Fin. Sure, he was awesome. He was going to be a doctor too. And he was way smarter than me. But he had also run an under the table poker game during his four years here. He met Ellie because he thought she owed him a huge sum of money and he’d come to collect it.

  Mobster style.

  So he didn’t exactly restore my faith in humanity.

  All of these kids that spend their weekends doing keg stands and streaking across campus were the future of America.

  And I knew them.

  Sometimes that frightened me.

  I dug into my bag, reaching for my phone on my way out of the building. The autumn wind whipped me in the face as soon as I pushed through the glass doors. I gasped and rolled my shoulders forward to protect myself from the arctic chill.

  Wisconsin temperatures had dropped over the last few days. It had been sunny and bright all weekend, with the last fingers of summer desperately clutching the days. But that warm grip had finally let go, leaving with threats of rain, gray skies and tundra-like winds.

  Tightening my plaid scarf, I pushed into the wind and braced myself as I struggled toward my car. I just wanted to get home, put on my fuzzy socks and drink a hot cup of coffee. I had an hour and a half before I had to be at Bailey’s to waitress tonight.

  I’d started there as a hostess, but over the summer, I’d trained to be a waitress. The hourly was worse, but the tips were better.

  Thank God. I needed all the cash I could carry.

  Other students had dressed warmer than me, apparently prepared for the day to continue dipping toward frozen. I’d grabbed my huge blanket scarf, but opted to leave my coat at home.

  Stupid.

  Stupid mistake.

  Still, the kids I passed, had their heads dipped low and their arms wrapped around their bodies as they fought against the wind on their way to class or the cafeteria.

  “Nichols!” A muffled shout carried on the wind. I could have almost believed I’d imagined it. But then I heard it again. “Nichols!”

  I turned around, and the wind hit the back of my head, but I could hear clearly. “Britte!”

  My gaze moved to the source of the sound. Beckett. Shit.

  It was too late to pretend I hadn’t heard him now. Even though I could have gotten away with it just three seconds earlier. Damn, why had I turned?

  He wore a goofy grin on his face, and a maroon and gray school polo beneath a black fleece zip up. He jogged toward me, and I realized how unfair life was.

  It shouldn’t be so difficult to turn around and walk away from him. I had acted like the biggest idiot the other night. Surely he hated me.

  And if he didn’t, he should. I wasn’t too self-absorbed to realize he had done nothing wrong except been oblivious to all of my issues. I’d bit his head off for just mentioning my mom.

  There was no way he could have understood the deeper issues I had with her and why it was so impossible for me to ever see her or speak to her. He assumed the entire world revolved like his world, where everything was set out perfectly before you and opportunities just fell into your lap.

  Beckett was in grad school with the perfect job lined up for him. And if he didn’t want that job, he could chase his dream job instead and be a coach. Sure, he was having an existential crisis, but it was between two fantastic options.

  And no matter what, his picture-perfect family would be there to support him through everything.

  Sure, I had the support system in my dad too. But my future was less certain, less neatly lined up. My future was not a Hallmark movie.

  It was a series on the Disaster Channel.

  Oh, there wasn’t such a thing? Because nobody wanted to watch tragedy after calamity after catastrophe. It was painful.

  He stopped in front of me, shoving his hands into his pockets and keeping his boyish smile. “Hey.”

  I should have just opened my mouth and apologized. That would have been the right thing to do. But I was so confused why he wasn’t avoiding me, that I stood there awkwardly until he raised his eyebrows. Then I managed a smoothly brilliant, “Hey.”

  He was unfazed. “Just get done with class?”

  I shifted my bag on my shoulder. “Yep.”

  He took a big enough breath that his shoulders lifted and for the first time since he’d arrived, I realized he wasn’t unflappable. He didn’t know what to do with this strained energy between us anymore than I did.

  No, that was a lie.

  I knew I should apologize. I just wasn’t going to.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I have work to do. That’s why I’m here.”

  My chin jutted forward. “I recognized the polo.”

  His eyes glanced down at his chest as if just remembering what he was wearing. “Oh, right.”

  Silence followed and stretched and thickened the air between us.

  “I have to work tonight too,” I said just by way of filling up the space. “In like an hour.”

  “Is Ellie working with you?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  He shook his head, and the smile reappeared. “I don’t know what Ty is thinking always scheduling you two together. You’re trouble.”

  I bit my lip to keep from smiling. I had wondered the same thing more than once. “He loves us. And he loves our trouble.”

  “It’s pathetic what you two do to men.”

  I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I didn’t. We honestly didn’t really do anything to men. Other than mess things up with them.

  Or maybe that was just me.

  Ellie seemed to be doing fine with her man.

  “Hey, Beckett, about the other night—”

  He waved me off, “Don’t worry about it, Britte. I get it. I had no idea what I was talking about, and I shouldn’t have assumed my advice was welcome.”

  “Well…” I had already started in on an argument to tell him the very same thing so when his words finally penetrated my brain, I didn’t know where to go next. “Yeah, er, right.”

  His smile stretched to his eyes. “I’m the one that’s sorry, Britte. But you should know it might happen again. We’re just getting to know each other. I’m going to try to not stay stupid stuff. But odds are not in my favor.”

  A smile finally broke free on my face. “You still want to get to know me?”

  He took a step forward, “You’re kidding right? That’s pretty much all I want to do…get to know you…” His fingers brushed down my arm. “Every single piece of you.”

  His hand encircled my wrist, and I suddenly found it difficult to breathe. And had I been complaining about the cold? Because now I was pretty sure I was burning up from the inside out.

  His touch seared through me, straight to the bone. I found it comforting and unnerving and distracting and centering all at once. My emotions whirled through me like a brewing storm, dark on the horizon, filled with heavy weather and bursts of bright lightning.

  “I don’t like how we ended our time together the other night,” he murmured, stepping closer.

  His hold on my wrist felt like an anchor now. There was a part of me that wanted to run…to escape this intense moment that went against everything I had decided about Beckett and a relationship with him.

  But his touch kept me in place. His touch erased doubt and concern and fear.

  “What do you mean?” I managed to ask.

  His head dipped toward mine. “I let you go,” he whispered. “When I should have chased after you.”

  I closed my eyes against the assault of intense emotions. It was too much. Beckett was too much.

  His lips brushed against mine, whispering
words that made my heart pound in my chest and my skin tingle with anticipation. “And I should never have let you leave without this.”

  And then he was kissing me and stealing all reason and logic and rational thought. I melted into him without a fight…without resistance.

  He kissed me, and I kissed him back. That was it. Like it was supposed to happen all along. Like I was meant to kiss him. Like I was created just to bring his lips happiness.

  His hand moved from my wrist to my waist, tugging me against him at the same time he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Our tongues tangled together in blissful connection, and I made a sound in the back of my throat that I should have been embarrassed of.

  It only encouraged him, though. His other hand joined the first on my waist, holding me against him until I felt his entire body pressed up against mine, all hardened muscle, and masculine power. I felt soft against him, delicate and feminine, but powerful in the same breath.

  There was something about his hardness against my softness that gave me the advantage, not him. I felt it wash over him as his fingers curled into my hips and his kisses became hungrier…greedier.

  My hands landed on his chest and then slowly smoothed over his shoulders to entwine around his neck. This position was better. This position let me feel him even more. My nipples tingled where they pressed into his chest and my belly burned with something primitive and needy.

  His teeth bit into my lower lip, but his tongue was quick to follow, soothing the sting. I mimicked him a minute later, letting my teeth sink into his full bottom lip, enjoying the feel of it before running my tongue over the same spot.

  He made a growly sound and tipped me back, supporting my weight with one hand on my lower back and the other cupping my nape, holding my head in place.

  His kissed moved over my cheek, along the curve of my jaw and down my neck until he found the hollow of my throat. His tongue dipped into that spot and then he sucked, hard. I laughed, surprised by the sensation.

  His chest rumbled with laughter too, but then he was kissing lower, brushing the tops of my breasts through my scarf and sweater. My fingers dug into his hair, desperate for support. I felt his smile as he slowly kissed his way back to my mouth, enjoying every single inch of me.