Root (Band Nerd Book 2)

by Danica Avet

  One of his hands slides up my neck to cup my jaw. His kiss is quick, but sweet. “That’s all I ever wanted; your love and trust,” he whispers against my lips. “And I know you can do this on your own, babe. You’re the strongest person I know, but just let me do this for you, okay?”

  How could I possibly refuse that?

  Anders

  My hands shake as I gently, carefully, slip the buttons out of the holes of her top. It isn’t nerves so much as fear and restraint. The once blinding white blouse is smeared with dirt and grease. Her leg sports a bandage where the bullet that shot her mother grazed her. No stitches, thank god, but if I close my eyes, I see her with a gaping wound, blood pooling on the ground around her. So I don’t close my eyes. Instead, I concentrate on her. She looks like a girl who’s been through some shit and it kills me that it happened in the first place.

  But I try not to let that show as I unbutton her top. Just like I will my body not to respond to the sight of her beautiful tits lovingly hugged by her plain, cotton bra. Focusing on helping her, and not how my dick reacts to her near nakedness, I unfasten her skirt, the material slithering down her long legs to pool around her ankles.

  I frown. “Where are your shoes?”

  Her long eyelashes sweep down over her big brown eyes as she also looks down at her feet. “I don’t know. I don’t remember taking them off.” She shrugs, tilting her head back to meet my gaze. “I sure won’t miss them. They made my feet hurt.”

  The smile she aims at me is like a kick in the balls. It’s shaky, yet sweet. Brave. She’s trying to hold her shit together for me. I return it, although I know mine is tight and grim. Lena kills me, she really does, and she does it in the best of ways.

  Turning my attention back to getting her undressed, my dick hardens as I take all of her in. My girl doesn’t spend money on fancy lingerie. Cotton is the way she rolls and it’s sexier than the skimpy shit any Victoria’s Secret model wears, because it’s on her. I have to force my eyes up, away from her body, although my cock pulses with excitement at my plan to take those plain Jane undies off of her.

  My hands start shaking again, but my fingers know what to do all on their own, unhooking her bra with ease. I still don’t break eye contact with her as the material slides down her arms before drifting to join the pile of clothes on the floor. It’s awful hot in here. So hot, sweat breaks out along my hairline. I give Lena a tight smile, my hands gliding over smooth, silky skin until I hook my thumbs into the waistband of her panties.

  Heart thundering, dick hard as a diamond, and balls aching for release, I start to remove her panties, which requires me to crouch down. Which in turn puts me on eye level with her pussy. Fuck it being hot, it’s like a goddamn sauna in here as the plain white cotton eases down her long legs. Her hand on my shoulder scalds me. And when she lifts one foot to step out of the undies, giving me a glimpse of glistening pink lips, I barely refrain from planting my face right in that sweet cunt.

  I don’t know where I find the willpower to stand again, to gently guide her under the shower, but I do. My dick hates me for it and I’m sure my balls will be the color of blueberries by the time she’s clean, but as I’ve already learned, there’s nothing I won’t do for my girl. Even if it’s torture myself with not taking her the way I want.

  Stepping into the massive stall with her, I do my best to keep my touch impersonal as I bathe her. It’s easier than I thought, but only because she starts to cry. At first, I didn’t even realize it since I’m washing her hair. When I spin her around to rinse her hair though, I see the huge tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Babe,” I say hoarsely, pulling her against me, wishing I could make her memories of this entire day fade.

  She lets out a little hiccough. “I-I knew you’d come f-for me and-and I thought N-Nathan was going to k-kill you! Or the others! God, when I saw Becca by the car…” she whispers into my chest, her body shuddering. Her fingernails dig into my arms as she starts to sob, the sounds harsh and painful. “I w-was so sc-scare for them, for you!”

  Fuck, she’d been worried about me. Not herself, but me.

  “Lena,” I groan when her sobs grow louder. “Baby.”

  Like a dam breaking, words spill from her in an endless stream of fear—for me, for her friends, for herself—betrayal, and grief. I close my eyes, holding her trembling body to mine, offering my support while fighting the urge to track Nathan down and slaughter him. And her mother too because that fucking bitch brought him into Lena’s life, failing her daughter again and again, only to nearly destroy her in the end.

  I don’t know how long Lena sobbed, her tears mingling with the water from the shower, but it took a while before she began to calm, her body sinking against me as though the release took all of her strength. She’s clean enough as far as I’m concerned, so I shut off the shower and throw the door open to grab one of the ridiculously expensive towels Savage had in there.

  Once she’s dry, I carry her to the bedroom. She doesn’t even squawk the way she normally would, or protest she’s too heavy, or any other excuse she usually gives me when I pick her up. That’s when I know she’s done. Placing her in the bed, I climb in after her. Before I can even scoot into place, Lena rolls into me, burying her face in my neck.

  Reclining back against the pillows with her cuddled into my side, I stare at the ceiling. I don’t know how to help her. I’m pretty sure the university has a counseling program for students. Whether Lena actually goes or not is up to her, but I make a mental note to check into it for her. This isn’t the kind of situation you just get over. Ever. And I can’t fix it for her, or protect her from her memories. Which I hate, but I’m only human.

  I don’t know what Savage and the others are doing, but I’m guessing they went out back since I don’t hear them talking. Probably for the best.

  “What’s going to happen to them—Nathan and Mom?” she whispers into the quiet of the room.

  Heaving a sigh, I draw circles on her shoulder with my fingertips. “I don’t know,” I admit. I know what I’d like to happen to them, that they feel the same fear and betrayal Lena had or, at the very least, get a serious beating, but my girl wouldn’t want that. “Nathan’s probably going to prison for a long time. Your mom, I don’t know,” I say on an exhale. “But that’s out of our hands, baby.”

  “I know,” she says softly, her body sinking deeper into mine. “I just… It isn’t that I want them to get away with what they did, but I don’t want them hurt. It won’t make anything better.”

  I don’t say anything. She’s right. Although I still wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone with Nathan. Still, both of those fuckers in prison would mean they’re nowhere near my girl, can’t talk to her, can’t see her, can’t hurt her anymore. And that’s all I really want.

  Faint sounds of the others filter through the door, but neither of us make any moves to join the group. In fact, Lena’s slow, deep breathing tells me she’s fallen asleep. She needs to eat something, maybe take some pain relievers. I know the last dose has probably started to fade, but when I look down at her, I can’t bear to wake her.

  Hugging her to me, because I need the comfort—yeah, I’m using my girl like a security blanket, so what?—I try to release the tension that’s been riding me for days, but I can’t let go of it. There’s still so much we don’t know, so many people in debt to Terrible, that I can’t relax. Not yet. But I’ll do my damnedest to keep Lena from knowing I haven’t let my guard down. I just hope I can keep my shit together until everything’s resolved.

  Lena

  “You doing okay?”

  Glancing over at Nessie, who’s watching me with concern, I smile. “Yeah, I’m doing okay.”

  And I really am. The Spartans are leading 35-21, the halftime show has been grueling, fast-paced, and exactly what I needed to stop thinking about yesterday. Well, not entirely. I don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking about it, dwelling on the what-ifs and what-could’ves, but at least concentrating o
n the show and game doesn’t give me time to replay it over and over in my head.

  Of course, last night hadn’t been the same case. I don’t know how many times I woke up with a gasp, heart pounding, and fear coursing through my veins. But every single time it happened, Anders was there, wiping away my tears and soothing me back to sleep. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.

  “Ride!” Walker shouts up at us.

  Nessie and I quickly sling our sousaphones over our shoulders. The Marching 300 breaks into an altered version of the song as the Spartans call for a time-out. I keep my eyes on the field, not on the drum major like I should, watching as Anders pushes his helmet up to take a squeeze of water from the bottle passed to him. He’s sweaty, the grease he put on his cheeks is smeared, but he’s never looked sexier than now.

  But there’s something…going on with him. I nibble on my lip. He’s had two penalties called against him tonight and almost got into a fight with a defender. I know he’s channeling all the aggression he felt toward Nathan into the game, but if he isn’t careful, he’ll end up getting kicked out.

  Coach Steady’s talking to him, his face hard and serious in a way I’ve seen with other players, but never Anders. He knows my guy is having issues. And it’s my fault. No, I know that isn’t true. It’s Nathan’s fault for being greedy and stupid and on the lookout for an easy fix for his problems. But I can’t help but feel responsible for Anders’ behavior tonight.

  As though he feels me watching, he turns towards our section of the stands, lifting one hand to shield his eyes. I give a little wave with my left hand, one that brings a brilliant smile to his face, finally wiping away the scowl he’s been sporting ever since he hit the field tonight. He didn’t want me to perform tonight, citing a multitude of reasons that all boiled down to him wanting to pamper me. When I pointed out I’d be home alone since our friends were either in band or football, he revised his opinion.

  That doesn’t mean he suddenly thought I’d be safe or fine though. I have proof of his need to protect me sitting right behind me.

  The song ends and we lower our instruments. Sitting again, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder. Rien’s reclined on the row above us, elbows resting on the bleacher behind him, taking up a lot more space than he needs to, but no one calls him on it. I don’t blame them. Even relaxed, he looks dangerous.

  He nudges me with his big, black boot. “Doin’ okay, girl?”

  I nod, embarrassed at being caught staring at him. “I’m fine. You don’t need to stay if you don’t want to.”

  His lips curl in a lethal smile, his gaze flicking over my shoulder a moment before coming back to me. “I always do what I want, girl.” He lifts his chin. “She does that the entire game?”

  Following the direction of his gaze, I see Becca standing on the bleacher with the other majorettes, all of them dancing seductively to a cadence the drumline has going. Becca twirls and sees me watching her, a huge smile breaking out across her face. Then she sees who’s sitting behind me and the grin fades, replaced by a glare. Her nose goes up and she turns away from us, but the sexy dancing doesn’t stop.

  I look back at him with a fake smile. “Uh, yeah.”

  Rien grunts and sits forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Did you know who her uncle was? Who her family is?”

  I shake my head. I’m still not sure I have all the information, although we spoke a little about it this morning. All I know is her family isn’t…typical business types. Does it change the way I see her? Absolutely not. She’s Becca. Her family doesn’t dictate who she is any more than my mom and Nathan dictates who I am.

  “It doesn’t matter who they are,” I finally tell him, looking back. “She’s my friend.” I hesitate, biting my lip. I want to ask him about Mom and Nathan, but on the other hand, I don’t really want to know.

  “Ask,” Rien orders quietly.

  I glance around to make sure no one’s paying us any attention and lean toward him. “What’s going to happen to them?”

  He studies me, jaw bunching and relaxing as though he’s literally biting back his opinion. “Johnny T took their house in payment and sold it to me. Your mom’ll probably get a light sentence, but Nathan’ll stay in prison if he knows what’s good for him.” His gaze pins me in place.

  “What?” I ask nervously, not liking that look.

  “You’re too soft, girl,” he tells me shortly. “Your ma fucked you over, that dumbshit was gonna sell you to pay off his debts. You don’t need to give a shit about what happens to them.” He lifts one hand and points at me. “Soft,” his voice is almost accusing. “But we’ll fix that.”

  “What do you mean we’ll fix that? Fix what?” Then I shake my head hard. “You bought my mom’s house?”

  His lips quirk. “Yeah, Johnny T offered me a job so I’ll be stickin’ around. Which means you and your little girl group are gonna be learning self-defense.”

  My brain goes blank. “Um.”

  “You coulda had that dumbfuck on the ground cryin’ for his mama before we even got there. You didn’t do bad,” he says with a shrug. “But you could do better and I’m gonna teach you how. You and your friends,” he adds, giving Nessie a weird look. “Gotta feelin’ you’re all trouble looking to happen.”

  I open my mouth to protest, because it isn’t as though I wanted to get attacked, but Nessie grabs my hand, and I’m able to hold back my protest. I know that’s not how he meant it. I hope that isn’t how he meant it at least.

  He grunts again, sounding like Anders. I can guess where my boyfriend picked up the habit from. “Now that’s settled, tell me about Short Fuse. Is she trippin’ or is she naturally that fucking hyper?”

  Rien’s moving to LaSalle. And he’s apparently interested in Becca the hothead. Nessie and I exchange worried glances. Holy cow.

  Anders

  A week later…

  “The junkie wants to speak with her,” Rien mutters on an exhale of smoke.

  Standing off to the side from the rest of the group gathered around the firepit, I dart a look at Lena, who’s talking with her girls, her smile firmly in place. But I see the mauve shadows under her eyes and the way her gaze flits around the backyard as though making sure everyone and everything is where it belongs.

  Savage only invited a few people back to the cottage tonight after the win. Rien, Lena’s girls, Tight, Crash, and Cube who all came with dates. No one from the inner, core group is talking about anything that transpired over the last week. Everyone’s pretending as though it never happened, but I can’t do that. I’ve fucking tried concentrating on classes, on football, on Lena, yet every night any measure of acceptance I find shatters.

  Why? Because nearly every night since the she was attacked I’ve had to wake my girl up from nightmares. She’s barely sleeping. Barely eating. And it’s taking everything I have not to break into the parish jail to make him pay for disturbing her peace of mind.

  I still haven’t found the balls to bring up counseling, but I know I have to. She can’t keep going on this way. Neither of us can. If that means I need to go to counseling with her, let some doctor shrink my head, I’ll do it. Just as long as it helps her sleep better at night, brings her closer to the girl she was before this happened.

  And now her fucking mother wants to talk to her? The woman who practically hand-delivered her to Nathan to do whatever he wanted. The same woman who may as well have held the gun on my girl herself.

  “No fucking way,” I growl.

  You’d think the grueling game we played today would’ve beat the aggression out of me, but it hasn’t. Another reason I probably need some counseling myself. Coach’s been watching me like a hawk. I’ve upped my weights, doubled the miles I pound out on the treadmill, and I’m on a hair trigger during practices. I need to dial it down, but I can’t. Not as long as Lena jumps at her shadow.

  “Isn’t your decision to make,” Rien says, subtly shifting so he’s blocking me from view. “And you need to
get that shit under wraps. She doesn’t need you huffing and puffing like a fucking bull. You think she hasn’t noticed the way you’ve been acting?”

  I know she has. It’s in the sad looks she gives me when I snap at others. It’s in the stilted conversations we have, my responses nothing more than grunts. I can feel how hard she’s trying to act normal around me. Only for me to hear her crying in the bathroom later.

  “Stay out of it,” I snarl. What the fuck does he know about what I’m feeling? “You don’t give a shit about anyone or anything. You don’t know what it’s fucking like to hear her crying in the middle of the goddamn night because I didn’t just go to the goddamn police! I was too fucking worried about my scholarship.”

  Rien steps into my space, his chest up against mine, his eyes hard and cold. “No, lillebror, I’ve never had what you do with Lena, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what it feels like to be helpless. But that’s your goddamn problem to deal with. Not hers.” His finger is hard and unforgiving as it digs into my pec. “You keep a lid on that shit. You comfort her when she needs it. What happened? It happened to her. Not you. Her nightmares? They aren’t about you. They’re about what happened to her. Now are you going to grow the fuck up and be the man she needs, or are you going to keep throwing a motherfucking temper tantrum?”

  My leash snaps. It’s as though I’m watching someone else as my fist lands a bruising punch to Rien’s jaw. His head jerks back in slow motion, my logical mind a very muted voice screaming at me not to do this, but the beast I’ve always kept chained is loose. And its target is my brother, who blocks my next jab with his arm, landing a blow to my ribs that sends blessed pain radiating through me.

  There are shouts nearby, shadowy movement as bodies surge forward, but they may as well be a million miles away. All I see are the shots Rien and I trade as he fights back, his expression one of pity. Fucking pity! All I hear are the thuds of fists making contact with muscles and bones. And all I feel is rage and pain.