Wanting Reed (Break Me) BOOK 2

by Candela, Antoinette

  I take a left.

  Night has fallen and it harder to see as I approach her house on the right. I know she doesn’t live there anymore, but I don’t care. I notice the leaves have changed colors and have started to fall. A car idles in the driveway as I pass her house and instantly my heartbeat skyrockets. There is someone sitting in the passenger seat as Elle’s mom walks out to the car. I can’t help but think it may be Elle. I pull my hoodie over my head, unsure if her mom knows what kind of car I drive. I hope she doesn’t. I feel somewhat creepy doing this, but somewhat relieved that everything seems okay.

  I make the loop around the street and glance back as she reverses the car out of the driveway and heads in the opposite direction. Watching the car disappear pisses me off. I pull over and roll down the window, slamming my palm against the steering wheel. “Why the fuck am I doing this?” I grumble through clenched teeth. I throw my head against the back of my seat. I’ve got to keep my shit together, not being able to see her is fucking harder than I thought it was going to be.

  The ringing phone jars me from the thoughts. I let it ring a couple of times before I snatch it, cursing under my breath when I see that it’s Sierra.

  “Hey,” I answer, trying to sound composed.

  “Do you have time to talk?” she coos. Hearing her voice fucking grates on my last nerve for some reason.

  “I’m on my way to work, but I’ve got a minute. What’s up?” I ask.

  “We’ve got to work out the details of our plan.”

  Shit.

  “About that...” I say, thrusting my fingers through my hair.

  “What? Don’t tell me you’ve changed you mind,” she says, sounding annoyed.

  “No, not yet.” I grimace. “Depends on what you have in mind. I don’t want this to blow up in my face.” My frown deepens, wondering what her plan entails.

  “It won’t.” She laughs. “Can I swing by your job when you get off?

  “Not sure. I...”

  “We need to chat. We can’t sit on this,” she interrupts.

  I definitely don’t want any more time to pass. I want to be with Elle sooner rather than later.

  “Fine,” I reply, reluctantly. What other options do I have at this point? “Meet me at midnight. I should be done by then.”

  “Cool. See you then.”

  I hang up without saying bye and power off my phone. I don’t want her harassing me while I’m at work. I throw the phone into the glove compartment, deciding the best thing for me tonight is to separate myself from all communication since the only person that matters to me won’t and hasn’t reached out to me.

  The gravel crunches under my tires as I pull up to the parking lot and kill the engine. I park in the back where there’s a large tour bus and some limos scattered with the limo drivers hanging outside. It must be some bigwigs from the city or hopefully the owner of the Patriots, Robert Kraft, is here if I’m lucky. I’d like to throw out my name in those circles. I don’t particularly like Tom Brady, but I don’t have a problem catching for him.

  I notice that Link and Bo, members of Crimzen, are unloading some heavy sound equipment from an SUV and carrying it in through the back door with Piper’s melodic voice directing them. Disappointed, I scratch the whole idea about the Patriots and enter through the back door behind them as Link and Bo set down the speaker.

  “Hi, Reed.” Piper greets me with a smile.

  “Hey there.” I nod, stopping to chat.

  “What the fuck did I tell ya?” Bo growls, after setting down the speakers and wiping his hands on his black coat. “They’re fucking socializing while we’re busting our asses over here,” he seethes as he pulls his hair back into a messy ponytail.

  “Fuckers.” Link rubs his hands together.

  “Who’s that and what’s going on?” I follow their gaze toward the stage where Nick is standing with a group of guys looking over some documents and checking out the sound equipment.

  “Our new manager and a record label interested in the band.” Bo beams, patting Link on the shoulder. “One of their reps heard us play the other night. They wanted a private show.”

  “No shit,” I say, turning to him. “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah, you can thank my woman.” Link grabs Piper by the waist and pulls her close. “It was her song they heard.”

  “Thanks, babe, but you and the band had as much to do with it as I did.”

  “I know, sweets.” He kisses her on the forehead before he motions toward the stage. “Come on. Let’s go meet the people who are gonna line our pockets with some green.”

  “I’ll catch up with you guys later. I’m on the clock tonight.” I laugh as I head over to the bar. “Break a leg.”

  By the time midnight rolls around, I’m ready to call it a night. I let Danny know I’m leaving. I grab my keys and hang out at the bar for a minute to watch the sports highlights on TV. My boys won. Romo only threw one interception. I smile.

  “Hey, can I get you anything?” Sammy flirts from behind the bar while stocking some glasses.

  “Water is cool.”

  “No prob sweetie, She flirts, batting her false eyelashes.

  A couple minutes later Sammy slides the water in front of me as I turn to the stage, watching Bo and Lance pack up the sound equipment while Nick is wrapping up with the reps from the record label. Piper and Link walk over hand in hand and our the first ones to meet me at the bar. An ache grows in the pit of my stomach seeing how happy they are. Shit, what I wouldn’t do to have that feeling back.

  “A good-looking dude like you and you’re going home alone tonight?” Link asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, what’s up with that?” Nick walks up behind him. “Are you gay or something?”

  “You know I’m not, asshole.” I laugh, putting my glass down on the bar.

  “Oh, yeah. I remember now.” He smirks, grabbing his ringing cell from his back pocket. “Speaking of chicks, I need to take this real quick.” He wiggles his eyebrows and turns, heading down to the end of the bar.

  I take a deep breath, thankful for Nick’s impeccable timing. I don’t want to have people all in my business, especially since Piper knows Elle. I turn, grabbing my water and notice Piper staring at me. Oh, shit.

  “So, you had a girl?” Piper inquires.

  Fuck. She doesn’t miss a beat.

  “Stop being a fucking snoop, Pipe.” Link chuckles.

  “It’s okay, man.” I nod. “Yeah, this past summer,” I confirm, ready to end the subject.

  “It didn’t work out?” she asks, her dark eyebrows knitting. The gleam in her eyes is practically screaming ‘I’ll find out one way or another’.

  “You can say that.” For now. Damn. She’s persistent. I bet she can be a pain in the ass. A cute pain in the ass.

  “Are you guys ready to go?” Nick clasps his hand on Link’s shoulder. “I’ve got a hot date with Jade tonight.”

  “Sweet, she’s my fave,” Piper replies sarcastically with a raised eyebrow.

  “Keep your girl in check, Link. She’s a hot-blooded little thing.”

  “Yeah...yeah, she is.” Link smacks her ass. Piper giggles and squeezes his arm.

  I’m trying to picture this petite, fragile-looking thing causing any kind of trouble. Big things come in small packages they say.

  “You’re a nut, babe.” Piper leans up to kiss Link.

  Fuck. I miss that. I had that with Elle.

  “Ready to roll?” Bo asks, coming up behind the group with Lance in tow.

  “Shit.” I glance at my watch. “I’ve got to meet a friend,” I say, glancing toward the back door.

  “Well, we’re done here, so we’ll walk out with you,” Bo speaks as he zips up his jacket.

  Shoving open the metal doors, I see Sierra is right on time. She’s leaning against my truck and texting on her phone with frustration written all over her face. She must be texting me. Fuck. I called it. My phone must have been ringing off the hook tonight. I give
her a nod as I approach, noticing that she’s wearing a pair of tight black jeans and black jacket over a red tank top. She looks hot as sin, but I’m not about to get burned.

  “Damn, my friend. You’re definitely not gay.” Nick slaps me on the back. I’m not in the mood to explain the situation. He couldn’t care less anyway. He’s looking at Sierra like she’s his next meal. As far as I’m concerned, he can have her.

  “Later.” I glance back and catch Piper’s inquisitive eyes. The wheels are spinning in her head as she tries to figure me out and if Sierra is the one. I’m not going to disclose anything; it’s a story I don’t want to share since I’m the one that fucked up.

  “Have fun tonight, bro,” Nick calls out. I nod and smile and head toward my truck, anxious to get this over with Sierra and go home.

  “You’re late,” Sierra says in a harsh tone that I don’t care for. She called me to meet, so she’s just going to have to deal with me being late.

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” I unlock the doors and open the passenger door for her. My mom raised me to be a gentleman. She hops in and I close the door and head around to the other side.

  “Where do you want to go to chat about your so-called plan?” I settle into my seat and look over at her before I start the truck and pull out of the parking lot.

  “Your place,” she answers a little too quickly.

  “I was thinking some place more public,” I counter, staring out the windshield.

  “What’s open after midnight on a Sunday?” she laughs, rubbing her hands over her thighs.

  “We can talk while I drive, and I can drop you off at your place,” I say. Peeking over, I gauge by the way her lips tighten into a straight line that driving wasn’t part of her plan.

  “Fine,” she snips and glares out the window. “I talked to Cane today.”

  She’s pissed, but that’s not my problem. Females always wear their emotions so clearly on their face. Elle’s face was perfection regardless of her mood. I could stare into her expressive hazel eyes, kiss those lips, touch her skin and that would be enough for me. Fuck! I would give anything to be Tyler right now.

  “And?” I force out not in the mood to play guessing games and annoyed that Sierra is sitting next to me and not Elle.

  She looks at me, her face closing off before she answers. “Well, I found out that Elle is taking Tyler out for his birthday this Friday. They’re going bar hopping in Boston.”

  “There is a ton of fucking bars in Boston,” I reply incredulously, stopping at a red light. “I’m not stalking her all night, and how do you know for sure?”

  “Jace told Cane. I guess he was over at Elle’s today.”

  “Oh.” Shit. Even Cane gets to see her. Of all fucking people.

  “Relax. I’ll get more details. For now, you just need to take off Friday. That’s a start.”

  “Cool. I can do that.” Perhaps Sierra isn’t so bad, but it’s still early in the game for her to fuck up. If I am having these doubts about her, why the hell am I still going through with this? Probably because she’s my only option at this point. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

  We pull up in front of a brownstone on Beacon Street about a block away from Fenway Park. I’ve passed this very location many times with a different passenger. Rolling down the window, we sit in silence while she rummages through her purse for her keys.

  “You’re welcome to come in for a minute,” she breathes, glancing over once she finds them.

  “I don’t know. Your roommate may not like a late night guest.” I swallow, assuming she lives with someone.

  “That won’t be a problem. My roommate just moved out.” She smiles modestly, biting the inside of her lip and giving me an open invitation.

  “Hmm...” I glance down and check the time on my watch. “Thanks for the invite, but I’ve got a hectic few days ahead of me. Maybe another time,” I counter. Her eyes fall from my eyes, travel down my chest and back up. I can’t be in closed quarters with this one; she’ll attack me like last time. I can’t be caught in any compromising positions. I can’t be tempted. Not having sex for a couple of months can drive a dude crazy. Any kind of invitation, especially the one I’m getting now, is fucking hard to refuse.

  She suppresses a smile by pressing her lips firmly together and gives me an innocent look. “You must really love her,” she whispers.

  Why does she care? She wants Cane. We’re just partners, plotting to get back the one person we want. That’s all this is, at least to me anyway. I don’t care to know what she’s thinking. I just want her to follow through on whatever plan she has in mind.

  “I made that pretty clear the first time,” I answer. “Just like you said, you want Cane back. You must feel something for him, too.”

  “Yeah,” she speaks as she motions to open the door. “I’ll be in touch with you if...I mean…when I get any more details about this weekend.”

  “Sounds good,” I reply as I watch her gracefully slide out of the truck.

  “Things will work out. We’ll both get what we want. I always do.” She winks before she closes the door.

  I wince, rubbing my forehead as I watch her perfect ass walk away. Her long red hair hangs to the middle of her back, and I picture winding it in my fist and pulling it hard. Fuck. I turn away and shake the thoughts from my mind. I need to go home.

  I pull up in the driveway, ready to crash, I hope. That’s my intention anyway. I kill the engine and dig out my phone from the glove compartment. I liked not having the distraction all night probably because I knew it was Sierra. Powering it up, I walk up the steps, unlock the door, switch on the light and set my keys onto the kitchen table. Grabbing a water from the fridge, I scroll through my messages as I head to my bedroom. I stop cold in my tracks. I get a chill and then punch the wall. I should punch myself in the head instead. None of the messages matter except for one. It’s the one that I shouldn’t have missed from the one person I’ve been trying to reach since I’ve been back.

  I take a deep, excruciating breath. You can fix this. Just call her and explain everything. She’ll understand. I laugh to myself. Who the fuck am I kidding? I start to type a message anyway as my heartbeat pounds in my ears. When it fucking rains, it pours for me. Call her. Just call her. I hit speed dial instead and put the phone to my ear. It goes straight to voicemail. I leave a message, keeping my voice even and calm. I must sound like an ass to her. I hang up.

  No sleep for me tonight.

  I woke up this morning to find a voicemail from Reed, telling me how sorry he was for missing my call and that I need to call him back. With his return, I need to sort through the overwhelming emotions I am feeling. What exactly am I feeling? Love? Anger? Sadness? All of the above? What would I do if I see him again? Slap him, hug him, or kiss him? Do I even want to know? What could have been if he hadn’t disappeared?

  Utterly frustrated with the situation, I close my eyes and my book, unable to think, let alone study. It’s all but over. He’s locked in my brain now, and I can’t let him escape. I don’t want him to escape. I want him here with me, but then I don’t want him at all. I hop off the couch, deciding to leave early for class, hoping that lectures will somehow deceive my mind into thinking about other things and not some guy who didn’t have the decency to tell me the truth.

  I don’t particularly like this uneasy, empty feeling in my stomach as I walk to class with a heightened awareness of him. My eyes fly in every direction, scrutinizing every tall guy with brown hair. The phone in my hand seems to weigh a thousand pounds as I play his voicemail over and over again. Listening to the anguish in his voice stabs at my heart. It’s so pathetic that my heart skips a beat anytime I see a Hummer.

  After class I head over to Starbucks to unwind and to possibly try studying again. I grab a vanilla latte with an extra kick to get me through the afternoon and a fruit cup to hold me over until dinner. Lucky for me, I find a table at the back of the café to study and hide from the world for a little
while.

  I’m so engrossed in my studying that I don’t notice someone approach until I hear the chair scratching across the parquet floor as it’s tugged away from the table. I glance up just as Chad sits down across from me. I haven’t seen him since the night at the Middle East. The blood rushes to my face momentarily when I see how he’s looking at me. I smile and close my book and rest my hands in my lap.

  “Hey there,” I breathe, looking around the café and then back at him. His eyes are this stunning Caribbean blue, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. He looks casual and sexy, wearing a blue and white checkered shirt, faded jeans and brown boots. His chiseled face sports a week’s worth of stubble, full lips and his blonde hair is windswept, but perfect at the same time.

  “Hi, beautiful,” he greets with potent blue eyes that never stray from mine. He removes his Nikon camera from around his neck and sets it onto the table.

  “Hey. I greet cheerfully. “Nice camera.”

  “Thanks. She’s my baby, an expensive baby,” he jokes as he folds his arms across his taut, firm chest. He tilts his head slightly to the side. “So, are you avoiding me, or are you camera shy?”

  “Why do you say that?” I counter, shooting him a curious look.

  “I texted you the other day, hoping that we can set up a time to take those photos you promised,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

  “What are you talking about?” I reply, snatching my cell from my backpack and scanning my recent texts. “Oh,” I say, crinkling my brow, seeing that his text came through right before Reed’s. I can understand how I overlooked it. He’s always had that effect on me. My world revolved around him. “Sorry for missing it.” I say, blowing out a frustrated breath as I peek through strands of fallen hair that I gently brush away.

  “No problem,” he says, leaning back in his chair while rubbing his chin in contemplation. “I’ve got an idea.” His mouth lifts in a mischievous grin.