“Come on.” We’re leaving before she changes her mind or distracts me with her wicked ways.
We agree— no easy feat— to eat at Olive Garden. She’s skittish and pulls away when I try to touch her, and I’ve had enough. “This is a date. It isn’t making us Facebook official or a wedding invitation. You will let me hold your hand, touch you, or you’re reneging your part of the agreement.”
“Bossy. You aren’t really a catch, you know that?” She tries to be immune to me, but she isn’t.
“Remind me of that when you’re riding my dick. And screaming my name.” I wink at her as the blush covers her cheeks.
“So sure of yourself.” She laughs. Not really, she actually makes me doubt myself a lot.
“Sure I’ll make you come.” She slaps my chest, and I grab her hand.
And.
She.
Doesn’t.
Pull.
Away.
“So, what’s your schedule like?” She’s pushing her salad around her plate and seems unsure.
“What is it, Doll?”
“That question seems so ‘relationship-y.’ I don’t want you to get freaked.” Is she for real?
“Ask me anything. In case you haven’t been listening to the same thing that’s been coming from my mouth . . . I want us to be relationship-y.” I smirk and wink.
“So your schedule?” She smiles, and it takes me a minute to focus on anything but her beauty.
“Some journalism classes. Public speaking. They’re all morning classes because of practices and games.” I’m not a slack ass with my workouts, but thinking of all the time I’ll be unavailable to her stresses me. I’ve never had someone I want to spend time with . . . for more than a few hours. “What about you?”
“English. A photography course. Just basic shit.” She seems disinterested.
“What do you want to do?” I play with her fingers and get her attention.
“Photojournalism. I want to travel to war-torn places and capture the despair. I want to make people see what it’s like, capture the pain, and hopefully people will open up. There’s so much bad in the world, but I want to highlight the good.” Damn. It’s admirable, and I love how she gets animated when she talks, but I’m not comfortable with her in places that aren’t safe.
“Like freelance or with a network?” She shrugs. “You may want to look into network stuff because they’ll provide security.” Her lips purse. If she thinks that was too much, wait until she shares with her brother. “Let me guess . . . you haven’t discussed your plans with Brody?”
“No.” Her eyes roll, and my mouth turns up. “But I’m good. I’m really good, and he can’t stop me.” It’s cute how naïve she is.
“Do you have some stuff I can look at?” Her eyes widen. “What?”
“You want to see my stuff?” Clueless. Stubborn. Beautiful. Defying. Pain in the ass.
“Yes.” I elongate the word to show her my frustration with her.
“I can pull some stuff up in my Dropbox when we get back home.” She swallows. “I mean your house.” Her head dips, and her salad becomes the center of attention with her slip-up.
Except it wasn’t a slip-up. “Home is right.” Her head snaps up. “You hearing me now?”
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“Thank fuck. I was afraid you needed hearing aids.”
Eye roll.
Smile.
Kiss.
Elation.
Looking at her photos, the raw beauty she’s able to capture stuns me. I’m speechless. She’s fidgeting next to me, and I put my hand out to still her. “These are fucking incredible.”
I’m not exaggerating. I don’t think there are enough letters in the alphabet to string an explanation of how her photography captures me. Captures the image. Translates the story. The little girl watching the balloon in the air— it’s like you can see the dream she has in her mind as the hot air floats upwards. The castle. The prince. The pink sparkles. Brecklynn shows me that. The homeless man outside the coffee shop. You see his loss. The family he had before he hit the bottle. The night his wife had enough and left him. The struggle to stop drinking until he didn’t, and he has nothing to fight for. You feel that. You want to go down there and help him get to his feet and fight— show him the right path.
She’s going places. Places that are scary to me but they’re a story to her. A triumph. A tragedy. An ending. A beginning. An epic journey waiting to be told through her lenses. Fuck me. My chest aches thinking of her with bullets blazing by her head, the conditions she’ll be forced to live in. “Why?” I explain to her. “Your life will be in danger. Your living conditions deplorable.”
“That’s their life. Why should it be any different for me than it is for them?” It happens in that moment.
I fall.
I soar.
I fear.
I struggle.
I love.
Her.
The pressure he’s placing to define what we are is killing me. I want to throw caution to the wind and say yes . . . until I get a social media alert from the WSU baseball page showing Mason with some girl. I don’t think it is recent, but I don’t expect him to give up the lifestyle for me.
“Hey, you going to dinner with us tonight?” Emberlee asks as I’m watching mindless television. She said she had some news to share with everyone.
“Yeah, if that’s okay.” I assumed I was included, but I wasn’t sure since she was asking me. I wasn’t part of the originals.
“Are you going to drive so you can make an excuse when we leave with someplace to be, circle the block, and go back to Mason’s?” I freeze. My smile fades, and I scan the room to make sure my brother isn’t here. “Oh, he went to get me ice cream. I’m craving it. But it won’t be long until he puts two and two together. He’s trying to figure out where you disappear to and why Mason is gone at the same time. Tick tock, Breck.” Her smart-ass tone and smile to match, irk me.
“It shouldn’t matter who I’m sleeping with.” I’m defensive, but I’m trying to protect whatever it is we have. The more people who know the more obstacles for us, and we aren’t in a place to jump hurdles. We’re still fresh and unchallenged.
“I don’t care who you sleep with. He will. It’s his nature. In his eyes, you’re four and riding a Big Wheel.” My lips curl in disgust . . . aggravation. “I can’t help with his overbearing tendencies. He doesn’t hide his crazy, and this will feed it.” She has my brother pegged.
“He’ll get over it.” Highly fucking doubtful but I’ll pretend.
“He won’t, but I agree it’s your business. Why hide it? Are y’all in a relationship or having fun?” First Mason, now Emberlee asking me the same question I don’t have an answer to. If I say fun, Brody will flip his shit— worse. If I say relationship I’m lying.
“He hints he wants to be in a relationship. I don’t know— he’s kind of a big deal with baseball and the ladies— a player in all things. Neither one of us is seeing anyone else, so I guess we’re exclusive and biding our time. We’ll see in a couple weeks once school starts and we give our self a bit to get in the swing of things.” She nods in agreement as she is deep in thought.
“I think you should tell your brother.” Her singsong voice makes me roll my eyes. “Before he kills me for keeping secrets.”
I giggle despite the fact she’s in the middle. “We still going to your parents tomorrow for lunch?” I’m trying to change the subject.
“Yeah. Fun fun.” Her sarcasm is apparent. “We need to go shopping in the morning for the skimpiest bikinis we can find.” She’s brave. He’ll fucking have a coronary. She messes with her phone and has her Cheshire cat grin in place.
“Oh, shit. You have this look, and I know it means trouble.” I clap my hands with giddiness. Our crazy blends perfectly. Emberlee’s the sister I never had but always wanted.
“Yep. We should have some extra people joining us for lunch. I need to call my mom and let her know.�
� What the hell? She disappears, rattling to her mom— caterers, towels, and pool party. I just want to soak in the sun and enjoy the days before our semester starts.
Saylor and Deacon are home from their honeymoon and look relaxed. I’m jealous of their stories. To find your future that young with so many complications in front of you is amazing. Emberlee clears her throat and stands. I see Brody grab her hand, and I have a twinge of envy with their love. “I have some things I want to share with y’all.” Her lip quivers, but she continues. “So this doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I want to explain some things.” Her friends drop their food, and I slink back. I wasn’t part of whatever went down, but I’ve heard snippets. I’m a firm believer in not judging. You don’t know someone’s reasons. If they try and make amends, you help them. If they don’t, cut ‘em loose.
“Go ahead, Lee Lee. But know it’s water under the bridge. We’re done with it.” Deacon speaks, and I see the shock cross Lee Lee’s face. She hurt him and Saylor the most.
I listen to her story, and my heart aches for all of them. So many mistakes, so many apologies, so many wasted moments. I can’t disagree with her friends’ reactions, but I can’t see banishing her from their lives. Her heart is huge, and she follows it— sometimes to her own demise. But, it’s also pure from malice yet her actions contradicted her intentions.
“Holy shit.” Mason pushes his plate back, and it knocks his drink over. Emberlee tries to clean it, and he waves her off, doing it himself. “Why didn’t you come to us?” Anger and hurt mar his face. I feel weird. If she had, would they still be fuck buddies? Would Brody have won her over if she had them? I shake my head, trying to rid the thoughts, but they plague me.
“Knock it off,” Caden warns him. I watch him turn to Emberlee, and I let them sort their shit. I disappear and walk outside. This isn’t a place for me. I think she feels she has to include me because of Brody, but I’m an adult and can make my own friends.
Mason finds me on the patio. “Why’d you disappear?”
Shrugging, I stare at the darkness. “Not my deal. I wasn’t involved, and I’m not part of y’alls inner circle.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re a part of us. You’re family.” He lets his hand rest on my shoulder, and I look to see if anyone is watching.
His frustrated growl tells me it didn’t go unnoticed. “Uh, if you consider me family and do what you do to me . . . we have issues.”
“Always with the sass.” He grins.
I end up going back to the apartment, and I know Mason was irritated. I can’t help but think he’ll go to a party or club and let a ball bimbo ease the ache. Emberlee starts praising the gods, while Brody fucking tries to put a hole in the wall with the headboard, and I regret coming back here. The dorms aren’t looking so bad. Fucking nymphos. I chuckle. Pot . . . meet kettle. I can’t get enough of Mason either.
The sun has barely crested, and Lee Lee is dragging me to the mall for swimsuit shopping. She has a death wish, but I love the entertainment factor, so I don’t discourage her. As she takes the skimpiest scraps I’ve seen, I bite my tongue. She’ll have a whole shit load of crazy dumped in her hands with these choices.
Her toned legs, arms, stomach, ass— it’s all displayed, and the green material sets off her eyes. Brody will need an ambulance for his heart and handcuffs to restrain him from using any male who looks at her for batting practice for the team. She’s pushing some huge boundaries, and I need some popcorn for this shit show.
I catch the bikinis, and I call them that with question. I wonder if she loves my brother at all if she’s trying to kill him. I try a few but the black one . . . I love. It’s like it was made for me. “You have to get that one.” Her mouth is curved, and her eyes study my body.
“Really?” I turn at an angle and second-guess myself. Maybe I don’t look as good in it as I thought. It doesn’t exactly cover my ass, and my tits don’t fill the top as well as they could.
“Uh-huh. But don’t be surprised if Mason loses his shit and outs you.” She tosses me a wink. What a fucking wanker. She’s purposeful in her plan . . . and she’s dragging me with her.
I flip her off and look at her hand to see which suit she chose. At least she’ll be a distraction for my brother. “I hope not. You getting the green one?” I mimic her reaction. “I’ll get this.” I wave my hand in front of my body.
I hope she knows this is gonna end for her as well as a hooker walking into a police station looking for a date.
Let the games begin.
I follow her through her parents’ house and make sure we are covered . . . if Brody sniffs a plot, he’ll snuff it before we can reveal our new bathing suits. Speak of the devil.
“Hey babe.” He pulls Emberlee close and kisses her.
“Hey brother. I’ll pass on the greetings you’re giving.” I give him a quick hug, and Emberlee takes him outside. There are quite a few people I don’t know hanging near the pool, and I wasn’t expecting a full-blown party when I agreed on the black snippets covering my body.
We make our way to the crew, and Caden questions. “Why the party, Lee Lee?” I’m quite interested in her answer.
I miss her answer, but I see her nodding towards Mason and I. Fuck.
I head to the food trying to get some distance from the disturbance she’s hell bent on causing. Crazy ass. She’s pushing her luck because when Brody learns the truth and hears she knew and didn’t tell him . . . I’ll need a hotel for a week because my eardrums can’t take their fucking.
I’m lounged in a chair watching the fun and laughter when Emberlee appears. “Ready to take a dip?”
“Your funeral.” I stand and strip the clothes off my body. Emberlee dives in, so Brody doesn’t have time to react, but he’s rushing to get her. I saunter to the shallow end and toe the water as I take the steps. Brody stops mid-stride, and it’s like he’s watching a Ping-Pong match. His head swivels as he decides me . . . or Emberlee.
I forge into the water as eyes rake my body, making me feel dirty. What started as a fun joke has me careening back to that night. Rude gestures, hungry stares, callous thoughts . . . all making me feel naked and exposed. Inside I’m dying for my brother to turn into Gumby and rescue the girl who has his heart and the sister he’s always protected.
A few guys move closer, and despite the cool temperature of the pool, my skin is clammy, and my breath is coming in shallow pants. Black spots blur my vision, and I grip the metal pole to keep my balance as I’m close to going face first in the vast blue water.
Emberlee is surrounded by Saylor and Avery, and Brody is pulling her from the water. I’m trying to telepathically tell her to help, send my brother to me, but it’s to no avail. I release the pent-up anxiety as hands grab me. I try to scream but no sound comes. I want to swat the hands holding me tightly, but I’m frozen. My mind shuts down, and I’m thrust into darkness. A kaleidoscope of colors distorts my vision before disappearing, sounds are distant, but my cheeks are wet from the fear leaking from my eyes.
I’m carried across the patio inside the house, and I stop fighting. I resign myself to what’s going to happen. My body feels like lead and goes lax in the arms of my captor. “Brecklynn!” The voice tries to rouse me, but I squeeze my eyes tighter. “Doll! Open your eyes!”
That voice.
I inhale, and it feels as if I’m breathing for the first time. My eyes blink, trying to focus, and I see him. I claw his chest struggling to sink into his comfort, my body catapulting and climbing him to get closer. His arms tighten and hold me as my body shuts down.
Shivering.
Shaking.
Tremors.
“I’m going to be sick.” I push as hard as I just pulled him close. He doesn’t release me. I slap my hands over my mouth, and he lunges to a closed door, opening it and depositing me in front of the toilet just in time. Every delicacy I ate is expelled from my body . . . violently. He holds my hair, rubs my back, and I’m mortified.
“Stay put.” He rif
les through some cabinets and wets a cloth he grabbed. Placing it against the nape of my neck, he grabs another, repeats the process, and begins wiping my face. I stand, my legs shake and protest, supporting the weight of my body. I cup water into my mouth to rid myself of the disgusting taste trapped inside. “You okay?”
Fuck. No. The tears come full force and for the life of me I don’t know what triggered that episode. I haven’t had one in three years. “I don’t know.” The toilet flushes, and he scoops me up in his arms. This time I relax and curl into his body. He guides us down a few halls, finds a room, and shuts the door. I wiggle for him to put me down and see red.
Blood.
Scratch marks down his chest. His lip is trickling. “What did I do?” My hands begin pressing the wounds, and he grips my wrists.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. What the hell happened?” I sink to the floor with my arms extended where he still has a grip. He follows me down and pulls me into a hug.
“I don’t know.” A lame answer but I don’t know where to begin.
“Bullshit, Brecklynn.” I sigh. He sighs.
I start talking. “I was fine. Then I wasn’t. All those stares. The comments. I felt like everything was closing in — suffocating me.”
“What did you expect wearing that bathing suit?” I push him off me and narrow my gaze.
“Bullshit. That’s like saying if a girl wears a skimpy outfit she’s asking to get raped. If a high school girl goes to a party and drinks something that is spiked, it’s her fault. Or if she finds herself in a dark room with three guys standing over her, talking about what they’re gonna do to her and removing her clothes and she can’t fight back because she’s been drugged— are you saying that’s right? It isn’t.” I pound my fists into any piece of flesh I can connect with. “Or if she finally garners strength to scream and fight back and they hit her— time after time— trying to hold her down and rip her clothes off. Is that fine, too?” My voice is raw from screaming, and my arms fall limp from exerting so much force.
I dare to look at him and wish I hadn’t.
Karma (Endgame Series Book 3) Page 5
