by Danah Logan
CHAPTER TWELVE
Wes hasn't been back to the bar since he left The Grizz. That was last Tuesday. Today is Monday. To say I have not been obsessing about it would be like trying to make someone believe I had a normal childhood.
I know from Kiwi, who was told by Zeke, that Wes missed Wednesday practice because he took Denielle to the airport. Why has he not been back? Maybe I shouldn't have ignored him, but my armor of indifference and self-preservation immediately snapped into place as soon as he wrapped his arms around the dark-haired girl. I've seen pictures of her on social media and also a video in which a flock of paps had been following her and Lilly. But encountering her in real life…how can I stand a chance against what she and Wes have? Even if it would just be friendship (which it certainly didn't look like). Maybe he would eventually accept me. Denielle never would.
The last few days, I kept myself busy with work. I took on two extra shifts to be distracted, with a small part of me clinging to the sliver of hope that Wes would walk in. He didn't.
Saturday evening, Kiwi showed up with Zeke, and during one of my breaks, I finally caved and asked Zeke about Wes. The glance he gave my best friend was everything I needed to know, and I didn't stay for his answer. Kiwi tried intercepting me several times before they left, but I…couldn't.
I got it. Wes realized what a nutcase I was and checked out.
So, with my extra shifts from this week, I texted Grizz Sunday morning and asked for the night off. He called me back about an hour later to tell me it was no problem and he'd see me Monday night.
With that, I packed up the Jeep and was walking the last supplies out as Mags pulled into the driveway.
"Where are you going?" she called out, exiting her car.
"Taking a break. I'll be back tomorrow." Hoping she'd drop it, I turned toward the open door. "ECHO! Let's go, girl."
After a few seconds, my dog shot out of the house and straight into the Jeep, sitting down expectantly on the passenger side. We'd taken a few girls' trips like this since I got her, but not in the last few weeks.
Mags came closer until she was in my personal bubble, and I fought the impulse to step back. "Everything okay?" Her tone was wary, and she scanned me up and down—days like this, I cursed her choice of education.
I rolled my eyes. "Of course." The words pitched like one of those blonde sorority bimbos yapping about the newest designer shoe Daddy's credit card bought them.
Mags pursed her lips, not buying my Broadway-worthy performance one bit.
"Echo complained that I've neglected her, so I'm making it up to my baby." It wasn't a complete lie; I had spent less time with her because I had been too wrapped up in my own personal Weston Sheats soap opera.
But now that it was over, it was time to get back to reality—work, squatting in classes I didn't belong in, and saving as much money as possible.
Mags stared at me expressionless but then miraculously dropped it. "Okay."
"Okay?" Now I was the one with the jaw on the ground. Who was this girl, and what had she done with my roommate?
"Close your mouth before you catch a fly," she chuckled, then leaned in for a hug. "Are you going to your usual spot?"
I nodded, and she gave me a forced smile. Mags didn't like when I was out of reach, which I would be. There was no cell reception once you crossed into dirt-road territory, as we called it.
About an hour and a half out of town, there was a small lake in a forested bowl at the base of the mountains. If you didn't know about it, you would never expect it to be there. One of Mags's friends had told me about it, and during my first need to escape, I drove up there. About halfway, I thought I would die the way the road (I'm using the term loosely) was laid out—or not laid out, for that matter. But once you got there, holy shit, it was like something out of a fairy tale. There was a small campground nearby, but that was about it. You lost service less than a mile after leaving the paved roads, and that was still seven miles before you reached your destination. My personal place of mental peace was the epitome of "off the grid." A few more weeks, and the road would close for the winter.
"When are you back?" Knowing my roommate, she'd wait on the doorstep for my return to make sure I was safe. Even after all this time, it was still new to me to have people in my life that were this concerned about my well-being.
"Before my shift tomorrow." I settled into the car, and Echo circled in her seat once before getting comfy. I blew Mags a kiss through the window and watched her get smaller in the rearview mirror until I turned at the end of our street.
The night away was exactly what I needed.
After setting up camp, Echo and I hiked and then settled on the edge of the lake. Wrapped in my heavy jacket and a blanket around my legs, I watched the sun go down while my dog tried to catch critters.
With my floodlight-style flashlight Kiwi bought me after I brought him with me one time, Echo and I made our way back to camp and ate dinner. Lying in my tent, Wes crossed my mind, and I briefly let my mind wander. What could happen inside these thin walls if he were up here with me? My sleeping bag quickly felt like I was wrapped in a heating blanket, and I had to pull my beanie off to cool down.
Throwing my hat across the tent, I balled my fists. "It doesn't fucking matter. There is no Wes and King."
Echo lifted her head from her paws and stared at me with her head tilted. Tears started pooling in my eyes, and I dug the heels of my hands into them. I came here to escape, not to be reminded that the words Wes whispered in my ear at the bar last week would never come true.
Something dropped into my lap, and I let my hands fall on it. Echo had brought my beanie back over. I took her snout between both hands and planted a kiss on her wet nose. "Thanks, girl."
She settled next to me, and I covered her with her own sleeping bag.
Oblivion thankfully came, and in the morning, I felt better. The Wes phase was over. So what if Sheats lived in the same town? At least now I didn't have to worry about "him" coming. For a hot second, I was afraid of what he would do if he found me with Wes.
Echo and I went on another hike before packing up, and by the time I reach the Welcome to Stonebriar sign, I have formed a new plan. Finish this semester and move on. Kiwi can stay, and I would come back to visit him and Mags. It's better than—
"What the fuck?" I bring the Jeep to an abrupt stop in the middle of my street. The front of our house is in full view, Mags's car is gone, and in its place sits a Harley.
His Harley.
My heart stutters, and I glance left and right as if I'd find the answer of what to do outside the Jeep. I could turn around and pretend I was never here. Go straight to work. He'll have to leave eventually. But what am I going to do with Echo? Out of the corner of my eye, I see my dog scrutinizing me as if asking why we're stopped.
I inhale deeply and slowly ease off the brake. I don't press the gas pedal down and instead roll at a snail's pace until I am in my parking spot. I peer to the side, scanning the bike. It's his. Every bit of doubt I was building up in my head is eradicated and stomped on like the roach I once found in one of my old places.
Fuck!
Opening my door, Echo squeezes between me and the steering wheel and races to the side door we usually enter the house through.
My childhood Ritalin experience floods my mind as I try to slow my thrashing pulse—unsuccessfully. I slowly slide one leg out of the car and let my foot hover over the cracked concrete. Drawing in a deep breath, I close my eyes. This is my house. My home. I'm not letting him chase me from that.
With more determination, I get out and follow my dog, who is now dancing on her paws.
"Calm down, girl. Why are you so excited?"
I twist the knob, and before I can open the door all the way, she pushes forward, racing inside.
"ECHO! Heel!" But she's gone. "Shit."
I bite the inside of my cheek. I could leave. She's in the house.
Before I can talk myself into running, I walk farth
er inside. There is no sign of Wes in the kitchen or living room. That leaves only…
I push the door to my room open and—fucking hell.
My treacherous dog has her front paws on Wes's chest—who is sitting on my bed—and licking his face like he's the most delicious treat.
She's not wrong there. Damn it!
I watch as his full attention is on Echo. His belly laugh is infectious as he fends off her doggy kisses. Warmth unfurls through my chest, taking in his interaction with her, and for a brief moment, time stands still.
"Whoa. Hey, hey, slo—" He falls backward, and Echo is immediately on top, pinning him to the mattress. He's shit outta luck now. She knows how to use her fifty-eight pounds to hold you captive.
"Echo, heel." I keep my voice low but use the commanding tone her previous owner taught me. My girl immediately swivels her head, and when she takes in my expression, she is off our guest in no time and by my side.
Wes raises himself onto his elbows, and our eyes lock. Taking him in on my bed, my breathing accelerates, and all my good intentions to move on from him and Stonebriar are out the window.
I envision myself walking over slowly and straddling his legs, pressing my already needy core to his—nope, not going there. I shake my head at myself, and Wes quirks a brow.
Neither of us says anything, and I use the elongated silence to calm my racing heart. It's time to let the old King out again. Maybe if I remind him of my knives, he'll leave.
I tilt my head and scan him up and down. She snaps into place, and I let the numbness spread through every cell Wes's presence has sent into disarray.
"What are you doing here?" Most guys would flinch when she comes out to play, but not Wes. He is not impressed.
"I was looking for you." He makes no indication of abandoning his comfortable position.
I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. "And what gives you the right to invade my home?"
Wes's eyes drop to my boobs, which are—thanks to my motion—pushed up and halfway out of my low-cut tank top. When I packed, I went for comfort and did not consider who I might encounter upon my return. This shirt is one of my favorites and is oversized. It hangs loose and low on my frame, and my unzipped hoodie doesn't help to cover anything up either.
"Eyes up here!" I bark. Not that I don't enjoy them on me. The slickness in my panties definitely contradicts my attitude, but I need to keep up the charade.
"I didn't invade your home." Wes finally sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed. "Your roommate let me in."
I'm going to kill her.
I hollow my cheeks, signaling him that I'm not buying it. I know he's telling the truth, but he doesn't need to know that.
"I got here when she was on her way out," he elaborates. "She said you should be back soon, and I could wait inside."
"Inside did not mean on my bed." I grind the words out between clenched teeth, propping my hands on my hips.
Wes shrugs, and I want to throttle him for his nonchalant attitude.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket and tap the screen. "I have to get ready for work." Maybe switching gears will help.
"Okay."
I'm starting to lose my patience. Not because of him, but because my body wants him here while I change and maybe him touching me…
"Get out!" I cut my internal thought process off, and instead of stomping like a toddler, I channel my pent-up (sexual) frustration toward Wes.
He slowly pushes himself off the mattress and saunters over. He stops next to me, but I keep my eyes forward as he leans down, whispering, "I'll be waiting outside."
His breath against the shell of my ear… His arm brushing against mine as he moves on… Even the old King pants like a dog in heat.
I remain in place as Wes walks down the hallway.
"Echo, come keep me company." His voice travels through the house, and before I can stop her, my dog dashes after him.
"Motherfucker!" I whisper-screech, stomping my foot. What is he doing here? I don't understand.
The creak of the back door, followed by it swinging shut, signals that Wes took Echo outside. I drop my arms, and the breath I was holding leaves me with a whooshing sound. Resigned, I pad to my closet and pull my medium-wash skinny jeans off the hanger. I'm so glad Grizz doesn't care what we wear as long as it's paired with the bar's T-shirt. This particular pair has seen better days, and the ripped material over the knees and up the thighs reveals more skin than my self-cropped work tops. I glance behind me at the open door, then decide that I don't care. This is my house. Plus, he's outside.
Despite my non-caring pretense, I change quicker than usual, then head to the bathroom to apply mascara and pull my hair up in a messy bun. It's the best I can do after sleeping in a beanie last night.
Through the glass of the back door, I see Wes throwing Echo's favorite ball. She chases after it and brings it back. He repeats the motion a few more times before he calls out, "Are you coming outside, or are you gonna keep ogling me?"
His question is muffled by the barrier between us, but it's obvious he's enjoying himself.
I open the door, and the immature child in me wants to make Echo heel so that he can no longer play with her. I stop myself, though. This is getting ridiculous.
I put the old King back into the dark corner of my mind that she calls home and slowly walk across the lawn. With every step that takes me closer to Wes, I force my racing pulse to slow more. Whatever happened this past week after he kissed me, after he left with Denielle, none of what I was dealing with was his fault. He doesn't owe me anything, and for once, I want to be the adult my mother raised me to be. I stop several feet away, and Echo saunters over, pressing her trim body against my leg. I lean down and scratch behind her ear, not breaking eye contact with Wes.
He is the first to speak. "Can we talk?" His earlier cockiness is gone.
I focus on the far end of the yard, collecting my thoughts. It's exactly what I was hoping to hear from him last week as I waited. Flicking my gaze back to his, I ignore the fluttery feeling in my chest. "I need to go to work."
The corners of his mouth turn down, and I want to forget everything between our kiss and this moment—pretend it never happened. That I didn't ignore him and that he didn't leave with Denielle.
Wes nods once. "What time do you get off tonight?"
He still wants to see me?
"Ten."
"I'll see you here at ten thirty." He comes closer until we're toe to toe. I have to crane my neck to see his face, but I don't step back. His gaze searches my eyes, and he lifts his hand to cup my cheek. His thumb strokes back and forth, and I lean into the caress, shivering at the sensation.
There is no way in hell I can leave this man voluntarily. The mere thought of moving on after this semester is a joke. What was I thinking?
Wes lowers his head, and for a fraction of a second, I think he'll kiss me again. Instead, his lips graze my other cheek, and he whispers, "I'm sorry."
Before I can ask for what exactly, he turns and walks out of the gate. I'm rooted in place, listening to the engine of his bike come to life and slowly fade as he leaves the neighborhood.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I glance at the dashboard. It's almost four in the morning, and now I'm going to get to bed even later—or earlier, however you want to see it. Of course I forget my damn cell the one time I don't have to be back for a full forty-eight hours—which is, like, every six months.
I rub my stinging eyes for the hundredth time. The smoke in the club is going to make me blind one day. As I pull into the parking lot, I notice E's car in its usual spot—that's odd. My breathing becomes erratic. I could've sworn he left before me. Only one of the security guys was there when I headed out thirty minutes ago.
My hands tighten around the steering wheel. Whatever he's doing here, maybe he won't notice me if I'm quiet. Yeah, right, my inner voice clucks at me. Even if the alarm is not triggered, the cameras that
monitor every inch of the place will pick up on the movement. There is nothing that is not being recorded here. Insurance policy, as my boss calls it. Or live porn.
Shit. Why today of all days? I could already be in bed.
Something is off. My gut is never wrong. A cold feeling snakes its way across my skin, and my stomach clenches. A voice in my head begs me to turn around. I can make do without my phone for two days. Who's calling me anyway? Besides Kiwi, I have no one left. Kiwi. I promised him I would message him when I got home. He'll lose it if he doesn't hear from me. He hates my job.
I stare at the back entrance for several minutes in a failed attempt to get the sudden onslaught of terror under control. What the hell is going on? I'm not scared of E, but if he has one of his guards in there, that's a whole different story—some of them have tried to cop a feel before. My heartbeat accelerates to an almost intolerable speed, and I let one hand glide down my exposed leg down to my Doc Marten boot. It's there. Why wouldn't it be? I never go anywhere without my knives. Even when I dance, at least one is tucked into my knee-high patent-leather boots or strapped to my hip as an eccentric accessory to my thong, garter, and lace bra. Sometimes the blade is all I wear.
I'm going to be fine. In and out. It won't take more than two minutes.
I open the door and step out of my Jeep. My legs tremble for a second. After pulling a double shift in four-inch heels all day, it's a miracle I can stay upright.
I approach the back door, and with every step, the hair on my neck stands more. I glance at the camera above the entrance, the red light taunting me. I hold my breath and carefully try the knob. It turns without resistance. He's definitely here.
Pulling the door open, my ears are assaulted by Niykee Heaton's "Nexus". The club is soundproof, including all the doors. No wonder I didn't notice it until I was inside.
The strobe light is flashing in the main room. What the hell? The dressing room is to my right, but instead of being smart, grabbing my phone, and leaving, my feet carry me toward the commotion. The song gets louder, yet it is dulled by the thrashing pulse in my ears. The closer I get, the more sounds filter through the music.
