I spit. “Get in line like everyone else and follow the rules I set.”
“You hit me first! Some captain you are,” he calls out, his chest puffing up.
“Stop, please!” Dane begs, clutching my arms as some of the defensive players pull Liam away.
I jerk out of his hold and nod my head at Liam. “And you call him your best friend? Did you not hear what he said?”
I’m talking about Mom and what she went through, but they don’t know what broke her in the end, and their eyes bounce back and forth between us, watching Dane pale.
“And you,” I say, spinning to Chance. “She cared about you,” I growl. “And she doesn’t lie. She walked back in here because she’s better than you…and me.” I tug at my jersey and let it pop. “How does it feel to know you turned your back on a girl like her? Wake up, Chance.”
His mouth gapes. He’s stunned. “Knox…”
“Everything okay, boys?” Coach’s voice cuts into the tension as he approaches us.
A long exhalation comes from my chest.
I’m losing it, but I can’t seem to stop myself from caring. I’ve kept this anger and resentment bottled up for months, thinking I had control of it, but since she came back…fuck.
Coach looks at all of us warily. “No more bullshit. If you want to be a team, you need to start acting like one.” He pauses. “If this is about last year, we’re past that. Got it?”
I glare at Liam.
“Knox! Do you want a championship this year or not?” Coach touches my arm and focuses a hard glance on my face.
“Yes, sir.” I nod, slowly forcing my shoulders to loosen.
I turn steely eyes on Liam, smirking at the swelling I see under his left eye. Figure I’ll have one to match. I lean over to him, keeping my voice low. “I mean it. Say her name again and I’ll fucking hurt you.”
Anger colors his face and he sneers but can’t hold my gaze.
That’s right, asshole. Be scared.
9
Tyler looks up at me with wary blue eyes, and I read the nervousness there. I smile down at him. On the other side is Sister Margaret, holding his other hand.
“W-Will they like me?” he asks as we walk into the elementary campus of Camden and head toward the sign that points to the headmaster’s office. Dr. Rivers, a lady I researched online, appears to be well-educated and admired by colleagues and former students here. I met with her yesterday after school, and she’s expecting us. I see her down the hall, approaching from her office. I look back down at Tyler. Geeze, he’s so small compared to kids his own age. Like many children with FAS, he has small eyes, thin lips, and a small upturned nose. He’s holding his backpack with fingers that are disjointed and knotty, not that it holds him back. He’s a normal rambunctious kid who loves sports, especially running. His little legs are quick, and he can move like the wind. He does have slight hearing loss and thick wraparound glasses sit perched on his nose, but thankfully he was spared heart or kidney defects.
I lean down until I’m at eye level. “You better believe it. Plus, you’re brave.”
“Like when Luke and Han take down the Death Star?”
I laugh. “Just like that. They were just like you once, little but strong.”
“Will I get a medal like they did? Will people clap and stuff?”
“A gold star for sure, and I’m always cheering for you.”
He nods. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
I sigh. Dang, I’m going to miss seeing him at the group home. “If you want, you can spend the night with me in my dorm and I can bring you to school tomorrow?” Sisters of Charity isn’t run by the state of Tennessee, and thankfully there’s some leeway in the group home’s rules. I’m eighteen and his sister; they’ve agreed to let me sign him out for little excursions before. I’m not actually sure if he can stay the night with me, but I glance up at Sister Margaret and she nods.
I straighten the collar on his little blazer, which I picked up yesterday. Dr. Rivers stayed late for me, which was nice of her.
He bites on his fingernails. “Maybe later I’ll stay over. I-I like to sleep in my own bed. And Axel is there. He might miss me.”
I smile. Of course. That’s his home, and Axel is his best friend.
“Okay, that’s cool. We can go get an ice cream later this afternoon and you can tell me all about your day.”
He nods.
“Be good, okay? No darting off from your teachers, bozo. I mean it.”
He looks away from me, that look of stubbornness I know he gets from me growing on his face. “Th-They better be nice to me or I’ll cut their balls off and stuff them down their throats.”
Sister Margaret rolls her eyes.
“You can’t say those things here.”
“You say them,” he replies.
Sister Margaret gives me side-eye.
I hold my hands out. What does she expect? I was shuffled between tents under the bridge, a foster home, shelters, and inner-city apartments.
Tyler looks up at me. “I-I could have said fucking balls, so it’s not a bad word. Boys have balls. And a dick—”
I hold my hand up. “Nope. Can’t say that word either. School is a lot like Mass, okay? We have to be respectful.”
The nun shakes her head, but I swear I see her lips twitch.
I ruffle his hair. “Did you know they have a killer art department here? Check out that mural. It was done by students.”
He looks to where I’m pointing, an awed expression growing on his face. He adores drawing.
Dr. Rivers has reached us, wearing a smile, and I squeeze his thin shoulders. Tall and attractive, she’s dressed in a cream suit, her hair up in a sleek chignon. She’s here to greet us, which is noteworthy. I’ve never even been able to even talk on the phone with any of the administrators at Tyler’s old school.
My heart clutches, and hope—that thing that’s been so delicate and tenuous with me for months—grows a little stronger as I watch her bend down and greet him then offer to show him to his class.
She stands back up. “Tyler’s going to have a fantastic day, I assure you, and I have your number in case we need you.” She looks at Sister Margaret and nods. “We have the group home’s number as well. Everything’s all set.” She pauses. “Also, congratulations on getting him enrolled. Headmaster Trask pulled quite a few strings to get everything arranged.”
Good.
She smiles. “He’s going to fall in love with his teachers.”
That well of emotion pulls at me again, making my throat tighten. I look around at the artwork, the plush furniture I can see inside the classrooms, the excited faces of teachers as they greet each student. I can’t be his real mom, but I can do this. I can give him a good start. “Thank you.”
She nods and begins to walk with Tyler down the hall.
He sends me a final wave then gets distracted by a little girl who runs up to him, takes his other hand, and leads him off along with Dr. Rivers.
I did the right thing by coming back to Camden. I did. He’s going to be okay.
10
“Holy cow. That’s quite a shiner you’ve got there, Cold and Evil,” are the first words out of my mouth when I take my seat next to Knox in class. I barely made it here after dropping Tyler off, but the high school starts half an hour later than the elementary campus, so I had enough time. Even sat in my car for five minutes, waiting until the last second to get out. Still, I’m not late, and Mrs. White isn’t even standing at the podium yet.
My seat is a mere few inches from his, and I’m aware of the heat from his leg next to mine.
Knox eases away from me, putting more distance there, giving me a half-shrug as he keeps his gaze on his laptop. He’s erecting a force field. A big one.
It makes me want to tear it down, zap it with a ray-gun, peel back the layers, and see what’s underneath.
“If you don’t want to talk, all you have to say is Be quiet, Ava in that deep voice of yours.”
&nbs
p; Dang, why did I have to say deep—like I’ve noticed what his voice sounds like.
He taps his fingers on the top of his thigh.
I’ve never seen someone so self-contained. Along with that force field, he’s got a few armored tanks set up on the perimeter when it comes to me. Locked down with cannons itching to fire.
Do not engage with Ava, they seem to declare.
It’s always been that way with him when it comes to me.
Except for that one time…
“Come on, Ava, let’s go upstairs to my room.” Chance breathes in my ear. His hands are on my ass, palming me as we dance.
Loud music blares from speakers set up around his den. His parents are out of town for Labor Day. It’s not a Shark party, like their postgame keggers with only football players and whoever they invite, but more of an all the popular kids from Camden shindig. A few people from Hampton High. Some townies.
“Be mine for real, baby.” His voice slurs.
“You’re drunk.”
“So? Everyone is.”
“I’m not.” Nerves hit me. Maybe I should be—to fit in. Only, I don’t like alcohol and what it does to a person.
People move around us, dancing slow, lost in the deep thump of the vibrating bass. A couple make out on the couch. Liam has Jolena pressed against the wall in an alcove in the foyer, her hands pinned above her head as he kisses her. She hooks a leg around him and tugs him closer. His hands lift her skirt up from behind and I tear my eyes off them.
Chance kisses me as his hands slip under my peasant blouse and brush against my stomach. “Babe, you feel so good. I promise I’ll go easy.”
I glance around.
Nobody is looking at us.
Except for him.
Knox.
He isn’t dancing, but unbidden, my eyes keep going back to him, keeping tabs as he sits on a loveseat in a dark corner, his position separate from the rest of the crowd. His figure is shadowy, but the broad shoulders and muscled arms splayed out along the top of the seat give him away. I know he’s there; I feel the menace emanating from him, like a king watching his subjects. There’s a pretty girl standing behind him, someone random. I don’t know her. She has her hands in his hair, scraping her nails over his scalp then drifting down and massaging his neck and shoulders, the movement of her languid ministrations sensual and slow, sliding from his silky hair to his chest. Another girl sits at his feet and rubs his thighs, her hands caressing. Don’t know her either.
With a sly look up at him, she moves to the crotch of his jeans.
My heart races, and it has nothing to do with Chance’s fingers caressing my skin. I barely notice.
His voice groans. “Don’t you want me, Ava?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, picking me up and sitting with me on the couch, maneuvering me so I straddle him.
I still see Knox.
He won’t take his eyes off me.
I watch with fascination as Knox bites his lower lip, digging in deep, so hard I expect to see blood bloom there.
I return his glance, letting him see that no, I haven’t forgotten seeing him nearly naked in that locker room, and yes, somehow he’s crawled inside me, sitting behind me in class, those long looks he gives me at lunch when I sit next to Chance.
The girl asks him something and I wish I could hear what she says, but I figure it out when she unzips his jeans and her head lowers.
My stomach drops.
“What are you doing?” Chance asks when I jump up off the couch. My chest rises and I put my hand on my flushed cheeks. I lift my eyes to Knox, and he’s a statue, body tense, watching me.
“Bathroom,” I mumble, slipping away from his hands when he reaches out to grab me.
“Babe—”
“Give me a few minutes,” I say firmly then slide farther away from him, jostling between people dancing.
I march past Knox with my hands clenched, my face turned from him so I can’t see his expression, so he doesn’t know he’s in my head instead of Chance.
What is wrong with me?
Thank goodness the bathroom down the hall is empty. I dart inside and stand for a moment and stare at myself in the mirror. I should leave. I should just walk out the front door of this house and go back to the group home, but my car isn’t here. I rode with Piper and she’s out there having a good time. Last time I saw her, she was making out with a guy from Hampton High.
“I just need a minute,” I mutter to myself in the mirror. I shove the shower curtain to the side and step into the pristine clawfoot tub, jerking the curtain back into place. Maybe, just maybe, if I hide here long enough, the party will end, Knox will leave, and Piper and I will go back to her house.
I lean back against the rim of the tub and will my body to relax.
Fat chance of that when the door opens. Dang it—I didn’t lock it.
Peeking out around the edge of the curtain, I see Knox leaning against the door, his head thrown back, his breathing heavy. My eyes search for the girls from the den. They aren’t here. My lip curls. Well, that blowjob didn’t take long.
Peeking, I watch as he scrubs his face and walks to the sink, turns on the cold water, and splashes his face. Once. Twice. Water drips down his cheek to his tan throat, slipping inside his tight black shirt. He looks up at his reflection and grimaces, his fingers trailing down his face. “Ugly, stupid, asshole motherfucker.” I hear him grunt. “You can’t have her.”
Leaning over the sink, he clutches the edge with one hand while he unzips his pants and takes out his shaft. It’s long, thick, and hard, like the rest of him. My breath hitches when he strokes himself, groaning, eyelashes fluttering against his chiseled cheeks. My ears tingle at the sounds he makes, the slap of his fist around his length as he works himself. He grabs his mushroom-shaped head and twists it, shuddering and rubbing the drops of white at the tip down his skin. “Hades and Persephone,” he mutters, almost angrily, as he shoves his jeans and underwear farther down. Slick, slick, so slick and wet, he thrusts into his hand in a greedy way, a flush starting at his neck and working its way to his face. Every second he leans down and groans stretches out and lingers, every tick of the clock dense and thick with anticipation. I bite my lip before the sound I want to make escapes.
Seeing the head Shark jack off shouldn’t mean a thing. It shouldn’t!
It’s nothing, just nothing.
Yet it’s everything.
My pelvis gets warm, desire curling. Holding my breath, my hand plunges into my jeans, rubbing at the soft mound between my legs. My sensitive nipples pebble, as if he’s right here with me, touching them. What would his caress feel like? Soft or hard? I remember him under the bleachers. Wild. Hot. Intense.
Wiggling, I move lower, pushing at my jeans. Fire burns inside me when I slip my fingers under my panties and touch soaked skin, skating over my clit. A shuddering groan escapes my lips, and I freeze, coming back to reality when I sense a change in the air, a quiet tension replacing his sounds.
Did he leave? I didn’t hear the door open—
The curtain is ripped back and he looms over me, his throat working soundlessly as he rakes his eyes over me and stumbles back, falling on the floor.
“Ava! What…” He hurries up to his knees, his face horrified. “Shit, shit, shit, what are you doing in here!”
Embarrassment flares on my cheeks. I can imagine what I look like lying here in the tub, my hands inside my panties. “Same as you, apparently,” I mutter. I stand up shakily and try to maneuver over the rim of the bath, but I forget my pants are at my knees and I end up falling.
He springs then, moving to help me as I simultaneously tug at my clothes to get them back up. He wraps his arms around my waist to steady me, but we end up tumbling down on the tile with me on top. His chest presses against mine, and I’m barely keeping myself from melting, wanting to curl into him. His thick erection is between us, and my body throbs with something I’ve never had, for a sweet pinnacle, to feel that elusive release, and now—
“You can’t be in here with me,” he grinds out, his hands on my upper arms. His grip is hard enough to bruise, but I don’t care.
I wrench out of his grasp and reach out to his face. He thinks he’s ugly? Never.
I lick my lips as my hand falls to my side.
“Chance,” his voice scratches out raggedly. He looks shaken and a little wild, and it’s the most revealing emotion I’ve ever seen on his face.
“Why didn’t you say something when I came in?” He scrubs his face, scooting farther away from me, his back leaning against the door.
“Does it make me a voyeur to say I was enjoying the show? Most definitely a deviant.”
He shudders. “You don’t even like me. I frighten you.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
He tucks himself back into his underwear, wincing.
I bring my pants up and zip them. My heart thuds painfully, my movements jerky, unsatisfied.
Voices outside the door move him to action and he jumps to a stand with athletic grace, yanking his pants up. He goes back to the sink and splashes more water on his face.
“Get up, Ava. Get the fuck out.” He clings to the edge of the counter.
“Why were you staring at me out there?”
He stiffens. “I don’t have to answer your questions. Don’t you know who I am?”
“Screw you, head Shark. I want to know!”
“Stop yelling.”
“Then tell me. What’s going on with you?” With us.
I stand up. I’m brave—for now. I admit he makes me nervous, that darkness I sense in him, the opposite of Chance. “Did she suck your cock?”
I’m tormented by the image.
His eyes swirl with emotion as he glares at me in the reflection of the mirror.
“No,” is ripped from him.
“You want me.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
Silence reigns as he seethes, fighting something inside himself. He flips around and stalks over to me. “You belong to Chance.”
Dear Ava Page 9
