Wanderer (The Nomad Series Book 2)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Apparently the school frowns upon dropouts and doesn’t allow them to escort any of the student body to any functions. So here we are, parked under the Verrazano Bridge listening to sad songs on the radio, wishing for another life.

  A chance to be normal.

  A chance to be two kids under the bleachers without a care in the world and bag of peanut M&M’s.

  Reaching inside the pocket of my tuxedo jacket, I pull out the bag of M&M’s and juggle them from one hand to another before finding the courage to look at her.

  “Hungry?” I ask pathetically.

  She turns to me and I watch as her eyes dip to the yellow bag in my hand. She doesn’t say a word and she doesn’t crack a smile, but she takes the bag of candy. Tearing the corner with her teeth, she pours some into her palm and knocks back a handful.

  “You’re welcome,” I joke, hoping she’ll take the bait but she doesn’t and simply eats another handful. “You going to share?”

  Her eyes slice back to mine and she raises an eyebrow before she digs into the bag and produces two M&M’s.

  “There,” she says, handing them to me.

  I bend my head and eat them straight from her hand before turning her hand over and pressing my lips against her knuckles.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get to go to prom,” I rasp against her skin. Her gaze softens as she looks back at me and blows out a breath.

  “I never cared about prom, Jagger. It never mattered to me if I went or not,” she confesses. “Truth?”

  Narrowing my eyes in confusion, I nod and straighten in my seat.

  “I only went because I know it’s something Alexandria would’ve wanted to do. Before we even entered high school she was planning on what she would wear to prom,” she whispers, looking out the window.

  “Let me guess, it was a purple dress,” I say.

  She nods and I turn my head, dropping it onto the steering wheel.

  “I dreaded tonight since you agreed to go with me. I thought about all those people who talk shit about us any chance they get and I could picture them whispering as we danced.”

  The silence engulfs us as the ghost of my sister’s memory looms heavily between us.

  “She would’ve danced all night, smiled until her cheeks hurt, and when it was all over she would’ve wished she could do it again,” she whispers.

  I lift my eyes to her and watch as she wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands.

  “She should be here. She should be wearing this dress,” she cries, fisting the material of the dress until it tears. “Not me.”

  “Shut up! Just shut the fuck up,” I yell, pulling her hands away from the dress. “Don’t you dare say you shouldn’t be here,” I order, holding her wrists.

  Staring at her tear streaked face, I immediately feel like shit for raising my voice. I release her hands, take her face and wipe away her tears with my thumbs.

  “Please don’t say that,” I whisper. “You’re the only thing worth sticking around for,” I rasp, leaning my forehead against hers. “You’re everything.”

  The last three years have been a nightmare, and she is the reason that has kept me from swallowing an entire bottle of my mom’s pills. She’s the reason I haven’t quit the nightmare.

  It’s her.

  It’s the stolen moments where we block out the rest of the world, it’s the tally of her smiles I keep in the back of my mind, and it’s the collection of firsts I’ll always cherish.

  It’s her.

  Always her.

  Struggling for control, I brush my lips against hers. I meant for it to be an apologetic kiss. I meant for it to be gentle. I meant for it to be slow and everlasting

  It was none of that.

  It was desperate, angry and sad.

  Symbolizing the burn of a brand, it was the beginning of the end.

  The end of our innocence.

  Her fingers urgently pull at my hair as her mouth opens and she slides her tongue deeper into my mouth. Tasting the slightest hint of chocolate on her, I lose the last bit of control I had left and kiss her harder, using my teeth and my tongue to claim her mouth.

  Breathless, she pulls back and drops her hands to my shoulders as she stares at me. I open my mouth to tell her I’m sorry, but her finger touches my lips, silencing me.

  “I’m ready,” she whispers.

  I’m sure I heard her wrong. I lean back and wrap my hand around her wrist, dragging her finger away from my mouth.

  “You’re upset,” I say, shaking my head. “You’ll regret it.”

  “You’re the only thing I’ll never regret. Make a memory with me, Jagger. Let’s turn a shitty night into a really beautiful memory.”

  I should probably put more of an effort into changing her mind, but I’ve never turned down the opportunity to take a first from her. I don’t want her to think back on her prom and remember crying in the car and wearing a dress she didn’t even like. In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, she doesn’t even particularly like the color purple.

  She fucking hates it.

  “Only going to ask once,” I say hoarsely as I lean back in my seat and stare back at the ridiculous dress begging to be on the floor of the car.

  “Go ahead, ask,” she insists.

  “You sure, Cel, because you can’t have it back once you give it to me,” I warn, blowing out a ragged breath as her eyes flicker with need.

  “I’ve never taken back a single first and I don’t want to.”

  “It won’t be a romantic story to tell the kids,” I remind her, glancing around the small car.

  “It already is,” she argues.

  “One more time…are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s get you out of that fucking dress,” I growl. As the words leave my tongue, my lips quirk and I smile at her.

  “It’s hideous, right?” she laughs.

  Placing one knee on the console, she gathers the skirt of her dress and drops a quick kiss on my lips.

  “Can you unzip me?”

  As I lean over and drag her zipper down, it hits me—this is really happening. She’s choosing me once more, giving me another first…giving me all of her.

  That’s the last coherent thought that crosses my mind because that’s when she pushes the dress down her body and climbs into the back seat of my dad’s car wearing nothing but a pair of panties. I watch as she lays back against the leather seats and smiles nervously at me.

  I tally the smile as I shrug out of my tuxedo jacket and toss it to the side, along with her dress. She crosses her arms over her chest, hiding her perky tits from my hungry eyes and I quickly undo the buttons of my shirt. Lifting the console, I pull out the condom I threw in there just in case and climb into the back seat with her.

  Her arms move away from her chest and she spreads them wide, welcoming me as I position myself awkwardly between her legs. She wraps her arms and legs around me and leans up to kiss me. I inch back to look her in the eye.

  “I love you,” I tell her before I thread my fingers through her hair and pull the pins until it fans across the leather.

  “See, I told you it was a romantic story to tell the kids,” she jokes. I note the nerves laced between her words.

  “You don’t have to be scared,” I soothe. “It’s just you and me making another memory.”

  “I’m not scared of what we’re about to do. I’m scared I’ll forget how I feel at this exact moment.”

  “You won’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I’ll never let you,” I promise before I bend my head and take her mouth. With a single kiss, I wash away her doubt and seal my vow.

  She relaxes in my arms and when my mouth travels the length of her neck, she moans my name. It’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard and I become hungry for more. My hands snake around and squeeze her ass as I wrap my lips around one of her nipples. I suck, lick and bite, enticing another moan from her. It drives me wild and I lose myself a
little more in her when I feel her fingers fumble with the button on my pants.

  A laugh escapes her as I lean back on my haunches and smack the back of my head on the roof of the car. Her laugh does something to me, always has and always will. But the sound quickly fades away as my hands glide over the insides of her thighs. Our eyes lock and we both inhale sharply as we reach for her panties.

  It’s not the first time I’ve peeled them off her. It’s not the first time I’ve seen her completely naked. It’s not the first time I’ve touched her there. It’s not the first time I’ve kissed that sweet spot.

  No, I took all those firsts already.

  Still, as I pull my dick from my pants and roll the condom on, I can’t help but feel like that boy under the bleachers. Pushing aside her panties, positioning myself between her legs, I’m that boy without a care in the world. I’m the boy with the prettiest girl in the whole damn school.

  I’m hers.

  And she’s mine.

  Always mine.

  She grips my shoulders and I press my lips to the tip of her nose as I nudge my way inside her. Her face distorts with pain and she tries to turn away. I force her eyes back to mine as I push deeper. Tears prick her eyes and I kiss her slowly, trying to take her mind away from the pain so all she feels is me loving her.

  I wait for her to return the kiss before I move again, until my control snaps and I’m pumping in and out of her, chasing the high of an orgasm. She awkwardly moves under me, trying to match my thrusts as she squeezes my ass.

  It’s messy.

  It’s awkward.

  It’s everything first times are made of and everything I’ll never forget.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Age: 18

  Covered in motor oil, I turned the beat up truck I bought for five hundred bucks onto the street I grew up on and spotted the patrol cars parked in front of my house. Pulling into the driveway, I killed the engine and sat there debating whether I should even go inside.

  It’s the same scene over and over again.

  My mother sits on the couch.

  My father stands by the door.

  The police tell them they’ve got nothing, promise to keep looking and drop a card on the coffee table with the address to one of those support groups for the families of missing children.

  Sighing, I bite the bullet and climb out of my truck. I take my boots off, leave them on the front porch so my mother doesn’t bitch about me dragging dirt through the house and make my way inside.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Richardson,” I hear the cop say. “We’ve done all we can.”

  “That’s it? You’re done,” my father fired back.

  It’s been a hell of a long time since he’s shown any signs of life and as I stood in the foyer watching him, I saw every emotion he’d kept bottled up finally surface.

  Running his fingers through his graying hair he shook his head in disbelief.

  “Don’t tell me you’re fucking sorry,” he hollered, causing my mother to flinch as the tears fell down her cheeks. “I gave you people four years. I trusted you to give me something more than a fucking apology. I trusted you to bring back my daughter.”

  “Keith,” my mother interrupted.

  “No,” he shouted, pointing to the detectives standing alongside the two blue and whites. “You’ve sat here with us, made promises you couldn’t keep and wasted our fucking time. Now you come into my home and tell me you’re closing the case. I don’t have my daughter or a name of the person who took her from me…I got nothing but a fucking card and a referral to a support group.”

  He tore the card in half and pointed to the door behind me.

  “Get out of my house,” he ordered.

  “Mr. Richardson—”

  “Out!”

  That was two days ago.

  Two days reliving the nightmare.

  Two days digesting there is no hope for my sister.

  She’s gone, and she’s never coming back.

  We’ll never know what happened to her that night, never know if she went peacefully or if she was tortured. It took one night to end her life and four years for her to become a statistic. Now everyone expects us to mourn her in two days.

  A knock on my bedroom door startles me before it swings open and I stare at my father. In four years I can count on one hand how many times he’s given me his attention.

  One fucking hand.

  “Something you need?” I ask as I go back to lacing my boots. I told Celeste I’d take her to the movies tonight and the last showing is in twenty minutes.

  “I’ve been a horrible father,” he blurts, causing me to lift my eyes again. “I’ve been so wrapped up in finding out what happened to your sister I lost you too,” he acknowledges as he pushes his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say right now,” I admit.

  “Nothing,” he replies with a shake of his head. “I just wanted to apologize to you even though I know an apology won’t erase the years of damage. I owe you that, son, and a whole lot more.”

  I don’t know where his guilt comes from or why he’s choosing to unleash it now, but I’ve waited a damn long time for my father to look at me. I’ve waited a long time for him to take an interest in me—too bad he’s a day late and a dollar short.

  I’m done seeking my parents’ attention. I’ve spent the most important years of my life rebelling, hoping that they’d give me their time, and now I’m too far gone to care.

  “I’m sorry you lost your daughter, but I lost my sister too. Everything you’ve been feeling for the last four years, I’ve felt too. It may not be as intense but that doesn’t make my pain insignificant or any less hurtful than yours. I don’t know a life before her because there was no me before her. Bet you and mom never thought about that.”

  Disgusted that I let him get as much of a rise out of me as he did, I stand and grab my jacket, but he doesn’t budge and blocks me from leaving.

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

  “I went to the basement today, Jagger,” he rasps, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I saw the holes in the walls,” he admits. “Then I came up here and saw some more.”

  I brush his hand off my shoulder and take a step back.

  “You want me to patch your walls? Fine, I’ll get on that tomorrow, but right now I got some place I need to be.”

  “I don’t give a shit about the walls,” he hisses. “But they opened my eyes to your pain and your anger. Sit down.”

  “Thanks but I don’t need a father now,” I hiss, balling my fists at my sides as I glare at him.

  “I guess you don’t but you need to listen to what I’m about to tell you. Two days ago when the cops closed the case I turned the information they had collected over to a bounty hunter, a man named Rick Grayson. Now you might think I’m grasping at straws but I can’t go on not knowing what happened to her. I can’t go on knowing I failed both my children,” he pauses and something flickers in his eyes, something that’s been missing since Alexandria disappeared.

  “Two dozen girls went missing in the tristate area around the same time Alexandria did and every single one matched her description,” he reveals.

  It was the first piece of new information I’d heard in years and I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him correctly.

  “The cops told you that?” I ask.

  “No, the cops don’t know,” he answers, shaking his head as he draws in a deep breath. “I saw their pictures, Rick has files upon files on them. He’s got a name, but until he can connect Alexandria to those girls, he won’t divulge.”

  “Wait a minute,” I croak, clearing my throat. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “We will find who took her, Jagger. We will find him and I swear to God in Heaven, I will make him suffer for everything he’s done,” he seethes as his eyes fill with tears.

  I stare at him, watching as he comes to life before my eyes. Staring at him, I learn in
that moment the promise of revenge holds great power.

  Revenge resurrected my lifeless father and gave him purpose.

  He continues to explain the situation, making me understand that Rick couldn’t give us back Alexandria but promised to deliver closure in the form of vengeance. He’d deliver whoever was responsible for the nightmare.

  However, everything has a price and before I flee my room and that morbid house, I learn that the price of revenge is sacrifice.

  Once I’m in my truck, my phone rings and I glance at the clock, realizing I’m more than a half hour late to pick up Celeste. I fucked up our plans. Reaching for the phone, I miss the call and notice the five missed calls prior and the three unread text messages.

  My father’s voice lingers in my head as I debate on whether to read them.

  “We have to leave New York. Rick wants us off the grid, says whoever took her could be watching and now that the case is closed, the timing is perfect. It looks like we gave up and moved away from the memory to rebuild. It’s our only chance to make whoever took her pay.”

  He didn’t give me a choice even though I’m sure he’d argue and say he did. Sure, he told me I didn’t have to go with them, but if I didn’t then I would compromise their only shot at putting my sister to rest.

  I open her first text message.

  Celeste: Where are you? You’re never late that’s my gig.

  Then the second.

  Celeste: The movie started.

  And the last.

  Celeste: Is everything okay? Answer me, I’m worried.

  I lean my head back against the headrest and play back my voicemail. My eyes close the minute I hear her voice and before she can say anything more than my name, I delete the message. I think about the last four years and how much we tried to be normal, how we fought to stay in our bubble. I think about the purple dress and the college acceptance letter I found thrown in the wastebasket next to her bed.