by A. M. Wilson
Nothing ever happens in the neighborhood where I live, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.
Checking that the gun is loaded and the safety is on, I take it with me to the bathroom. Turning the shower on, I yank my shirt over my head and take off my jeans. I step under the warm spray and let the water wash away the beer and grime of the day.
3
Reece
Past – 11th Grade
A shrill ring signals the ten-minute warning before first period starts. I adjust my grip on the black backpack strap slung over my left shoulder as I scan the sea of bodies. The scent of disinfectant and body odor permeates the air in a cloud that says welcome back to high school. I defied my parents and left home without my sister, Tori, so I could get here early. She’s a freshman this year, and Mom didn’t want her to walk to school alone.
I feel a little guilty, but I wanted to spend time with Dani before class, and I’ll be damned to waste a second of it.
Her shiny black hair pops out from behind someone’s shoulder, and I nearly trip over my feet at the sight. Seconds later, the need to run to her replaces the happy feeling. That fury swirls at the presence of Jordan Wiles. Captain of the football team and starting quarterback as a freshman. He leans against the locker next to Dani’s with a cocky smirk on his face.
He won’t look so cocky when he gets a taste of my fist.
Everyone at Westbridge High knows she belongs to me.
With a forearm braced above the locker, he cages her in with his other arm holding the open door. She smiles up at him, but it’s calculating. Her eyes work beneath a heavy rim of thick lashes. I know Dani is smart, and I should leave it up to her to handle the jackass, but that’s not the kind of guy I am.
My dad always said my mom is the strongest woman he’s ever known, but even though she can handle anything herself, she shouldn’t have to. When he taught me how to service a car and change a tire, he looked up at me and said, “Did you know your mom knows how to change a tire?” I was surprised because I’ve never seen her do it, so I shook my head. “That’s because even though she knows how to, I’m still going to do it for her. That’s how you take care of a woman who means something to you, son. You know what she’s capable of and do the dirty work anyway.”
Girls get labeled so fast if they stand up to a guy, so I’m going to do the dirty work. And I’ll enjoy it too.
Jordan doesn’t notice me until I’m within striking range. I use my flat palm against the locker door to slam it wide open into the other lockers. The loud bang reverberates down the hall, causing students to fall quiet minus a couple of startled screams. Jordan teeters off balance in our direction.
I tuck Dani tightly against my side, letting my arm rest possessively across her shoulders and guide us into the bank of lockers and out of his way.
“Morning, Wiles.”
He rights himself without hitting the floor and straightens to his full height. We trade heated glares as we size each other up. Jordan is broad and quick on his feet. It’s no secret he has years of weightlifting and football on his side. I’m often underestimated for my lean physique. I make up for it by learning to fight on the streets.
His face morphs from embarrassment as he slides that cocky smirk back into place.
“Reece James! Have a nice summer?” The faux cheeriness slithers through me like a cheap shot of tequila at a field party.
I glance down at Dani. “We did.” When I look back at Jordan, my face hardens. “Mind keeping your hands to yourself next time?”
“I didn’t touch her,” he sneers.
“A girl leaning back when you’re in their personal space should be enough of a sign to back the fuck up.”
“We were having a friendly catch-up. I asked if she’s coming to the game this Friday. Chill.”
Dani leans forward from beneath my arm. “You asked me out three times, to which I told you no three times. Cut the shit, Jordan.”
I wrap my arm around Dani far enough that I can grasp her other shoulder and pull her snug against me. If I don’t hold on, I might end up suspended on our first day of eleventh grade.
“She’s made herself clear. Now let me. If you get in her space again, your football season will be over before it begins.” The gritty tone leaves no room for mistake. I’m a pretty laid-back guy most of the time, except when it comes to Dani or my family. I’d do anything for the people I care about.
“You can’t threaten me.” He leans closer and continues our stare down. I rest casually against the lockers behind us.
“I just did.”
“Whatever,” he sputters as he moves away. “When she dumps your poor, trashy ass, I’ll be waiting.”
Dani tears from my arms and chases Jordan three steps away. “You couldn’t pay me enough money to go on a date with you!”
Her words bring with them a chorus of snickers from the kids lingering to watch our show, reminding me we aren’t alone. Now that Jordan’s walked off, my temper cools exponentially. Enough that I can snag Dani’s elbow and pull her close again as an easy grin falls into place. I put my mouth to her ear and inhale the scent of sour apple shampoo. “Hey.”
That one word melts her against me. I spin her gently and back her up against her locker. Her eyes adoringly hold mine as she bites her lip and slings her arms around my neck. “Hey.”
I release a heavy sigh.
“I meant to spend more time with you this morning, but Wiles fucked that up.” I place a gentle peck on her soft lips. “I guess this will have to do.”
Using her grip, she pulls me closer and extends the length of our kiss a few extra seconds. The curves of her hips fill my hands, and her warm breath brushes my face. She slips her tongue between my lips, shocking the hell out of me. I manage to pull back an inch.
“Jesus, Dani. We’re in school.” Not that I’d normally complain about a little tongue action, but I can’t walk into first period with a raging boner.
Foregoing a verbal response, Dani yanks me into her again and smashes her tits against my chest. She kisses me fiercely and delves her tongue back into my mouth. The moan she releases is nearly pornographic and has me pulling back with sudden nerves.
“Dani, stop,” I mumble between frantic kisses. Her fingers twist in the fabric of my shirt, and she yanks me closer.
“I want you to fuck me, Reece.”
“What?” I rear back in shock. We haven’t done that yet. We’ve both been waiting for the perfect time. I wanted to make sure she’s ready.
“Fuck me, please.” She latches her mouth onto my neck and gyrates her hot little body against my aching dick.
“I want you to show everyone that I’m yours.” Without warning, she plunges her hand inside my pants and grips my needy erection.
“AH!”
I wake with a shout and immediately sit up in bed. My shoulders heave, and a mist of sweat dampens my brow.
Goddamn fucking shit.
Swinging my legs out, I drop my feet flat to the floor and settle my elbows on my thighs. My head falls heavily into my open palms, and my heels press into my eyes as if I can eradicate the images swirling in my brain.
That is not how the memory played out in real life. But I don’t want to think about that. I’ve spent twenty years refusing to think about anything relating to Dani Lawrence. Clearly, seeing her again has dredged up a part of my past we’d be better off leaving in the dark.
A glance at the clock on my bedside table tells me the time. The red numbers glow in the pitch-black darkness of my room, indicating it’s just after three in the morning. An hour earlier than I intended to be up. The job we’re working on is an hour out of town, so I have to leave before the fucking sun rises. I scrub a palm down my tired face and stand. Coffee it is. I might even go for a run. Anything to erase the images plaguing me this morning and repair my shitty mood.
After I dress in a pair of jeans and an athletic tee, I head to the kitchen and start the coffee pot. A yawn sneaks out as the elixir pe
rcolates, the steady stream the only sound in the room. I run my fingers through my hair in lieu of a brush. My morning routine is relatively simple. Knowing I’m about to get dirty and stand in the hot sun all day means I don’t do a lot to get ready. The cleanup comes once I get home after a long day’s work.
That first sip of coffee sets me in motion. I stuff my cooler with beverages and food. A sandwich and a bag of beef jerky serve as my main source of protein, followed by some fresh fruit and veggies. The physical nature of my job means I don’t have to hit the gym to stay in shape, but that doesn’t mean I eat like shit either. Especially after my dad suffered a heart attack a couple of years ago. Watching my idol in that hospital bed really put my own health into perspective.
I snag a protein shake out of my fridge to drink on the way out to the job site and slam my cooler shut. As I rise, my attention drifts out my window to the barely lightened sky.
“Son of a bitch,” I grumble at the mess littering the end of my driveway.
I slip my work boots on one at a time, foregoing the laces, and stomp out into the chilly morning breeze.
The first thought to flit through my mind is the wind must have knocked my garbage can over. This morning is pickup day, and sometimes a strong breeze can tip the can. The plastic bags are torn and strewn across the end of my lawn. An animal must have had the time of their life scouring through the remnants of food. I pivot and head into my garage for a rake. Even though I woke up early, picking it all up by hand will make me late.
After fifteen minutes of raking and re-bagging my trash, my mood has soured further. I walk back to the garage to return the rake. The sun continues to rise, turning the sky a deep purple. I need to get my ass on the road, or Jonas won’t let me hear the end of it. So much for being up early with plenty of time.
I deposit the rake in the garage and jog inside, through the mudroom, to where I left my cooler in the kitchen. With items in hand, I lock the deadbolt.
I nearly drop all of it when I round the hood to the driver’s side door to my truck.
“What the fuck,” I mutter audibly into the breezy morning. I’ve dropped more expletives this morning than usual, but they’re warranted. That unease from last night slithers through me again.
First the dream, then the garbage, and now an eight-inch drawing scratched into my door of a lightning bolt.
4
Reece
“Motherfucking hell,” I growl and glare down at the sledgehammer on the ground. Thank fuck I’m wearing steel-toed boots, or I wouldn’t have any toes left on that foot. Even so, it still hurts like a bitch.
I pick up the tool, tempted to chuck it through the outside wall we just repaired.
“What in the hell is up with you this morning, Reece?” Jonas asks, his brows jumping up at my harsh language. “You seem distracted this morning.”
Distracted isn’t the word I would use to describe what I’m feeling. Pissed off is more like it.
Propping the sledgehammer against a beam, I grab my water jug and chug back several swallows. Using the back of my hand, I wipe away the droplets left behind.
“I had some neighborhood punks vandalize my truck this morning. Scratched a huge lightning bolt in the side.”
“Damn, man. That’s fucked up.” He uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. “You report it?”
“No. I’ve got no proof of who did it. The most they’ll do is take down a report.”
He eyes me skeptically. “You sure it was kids?”
“Yeah. There have been a few incidents lately in the area. Nothing major. Just some idiots trashing properties.”
“I still think you should report it, so it’ll be on record when they catch them.”
“Maybe.” I pick up the sledgehammer. “If it happens again, I’ll call it in.”
Getting back to work, I spend the next thirty minutes taking down an interior wall. It’s backbreaking labor, but it’s a damn good way to release the anger I’ve felt since I saw the scratches on my truck. Seeing them reminded me of my childhood. Back then, a car being keyed was a common occurrence and one of the least worrisome issues we had around the neighborhood. Now though, since the area has been cleaned up, that shit should not be happening.
When lunchtime rolls around, all the guys sit out on the back patio and stuff their faces. I quickly scarf down my food and get back to work before the others. I hate sitting idle.
Hours later, we have the inside walls taken down and the debris hauled out to the dumpster. Since we’re at a good stopping point, I call it a day and see the relief on the guys’ faces. Today was a full day of labor, so they deserve to clock out early. I’m ready to get the fuck out of here myself.
“We’re heading to Rook’s for a drink. You in?” Jonas asks as he loads his tools in the back of his truck.
“Not today.”
Seeing Dani there a few days ago, coupled with the dream I woke up to this morning, has me wanting to stay as far away from Rook’s as I can. The less I see Dani, the better it’ll be for the both of us.
“You sure?” He looks me over. “You look like you could use a drink or three.”
“Yeah. I need to call Declan to see about getting my truck door painted.”
Not to mention, I’m dirty, sweaty, and would probably be piss-poor company.
He walks around to the driver’s side door and whistles when he sees the drawing scratched in the door.
“Damn.”
If I find out who did it, I’ll wring the little fucker’s throat.
“Yeah.” Anger boils my blood as I look at the scratch marks again.
He slaps my shoulder. “If you change your mind, you know where we’ll be.”
“Thanks.”
Getting in my truck, I take off down the road. Too tired to cook anything, I stop at a Chinese restaurant on the way home and grab takeout. As I exit the building, I come to a stop, gritting my teeth.
I’ve gone twenty years without seeing Dani, and now I’ve seen her twice in three days. Not only that, but I’m dreaming about the fucking woman when I haven’t in years.
Luckily, she doesn’t see me as she crosses the street. With my mood the way it is, I’m not sure I could handle another confrontation with her at the moment.
She’s wearing a pair of gray slacks that hug her hips and flare out slightly down the legs and a white button-up shirt with a gray blazer. Her hair is in a high ponytail, which swings across her back as she walks. She pauses at the driver’s door of a black Dodge Charger. When she begins to turn her head in my direction, I step behind an old telephone booth that hasn’t been in use for decades.
I feel like a pussy hiding from her. Dani’s always been able to bring out feelings I’ve never felt before. It’s like she has some kind of voodoo spell over me. Apparently, she still has that same power.
Her car starts and purrs as she drives away. I step out from behind the telephone booth and go to my truck. My body vibrates with long-forgotten desire as I make my way across town. The thought crosses my mind to call one of the few women I irregularly see when I need a release, but nix the idea as soon as it forms. I know from past experience that sleeping with another woman doesn’t do shit to alleviate my need for Dani.
When Dani first left town, I slept with anyone with a working pussy, thinking it would help me forget about her. It didn’t. The only thing it did was remind me of what I had and lost. There was never a comparison between Dani and other women.
Coming to a stop at a red light, I notice the street I’m supposed to turn down has a road sign up blocking anyone from entering. The street in front of me has a detour sign. The light turns green, and I press down on the gas, irritated that it’s going to take me even longer to get home. Prickles of awareness pop up on my scalp when I recognize the neighborhood. Anyone passing through who didn’t live here a couple of years ago would think this was a nice and ordinary street. To the ones who have been around a while know better.
I ey
e the white two-story house with loathing. That house brought fifteen years’ worth of unimaginable pain to my brother and Aislin. It should have been torn down the minute Clem Stewart was convicted. I quickly pass by it, wanting to get the fuck away from the horror-ridden structure.
Pulling into the driveway fifteen minutes later, I grab my bag of takeout and get out of my truck. I check the mailbox before grabbing the now empty trash can by the road and put it back beside the house over by the garage. Spotting a package in front of my door, I smile when I remember Niko telling me to expect a package from Maggie. She found something in one of the shops in Florida and said I just had to have it.
Juggling my takeout and the box in one hand, I unlock my door, then drop the keys on the table inside the entryway. I key in the code for my alarm before going to the kitchen. As good as the food smells, I want to wash the dust and grime off me first. My clothes get tossed in the hamper inside the bathroom, and I step under the warm spray. My muscles begin relaxing the minute the water hits my shoulders. Tipping my head back, I let it beat down on my face for a few minutes before I grab a washcloth and roughly scrub it over my body. My thick hair is washed next.
With water still dripping rivulets down my back, I throw on a pair of shorts. I pause before I go through the doorway, my eyes catching on the gun safe in my closet. I haven’t had any more creepy feelings since the night I went to Rook’s. It was probably the same punks who fucked up my truck. Those bastards need to be caught and taught a lesson.
The house is too quiet when I leave the living room, so I stop at the TV and pull up one of the music apps. Picking a classic rock station, I turn the volume on low, just enough to break the deafening silence.
Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I take it and my bag of Chinese to the island and sit on a stool. My stomach rumbles when I open the bag, and a waft of the pepper chicken hits my nose. Using chopsticks, I shovel a piece of chicken along with some rice into my mouth.
