Trust in Me: A Novella

by J. Lynn

  Avery hurried around the coffee table and sat on the edge of the couch.

  “What are you talking about, Cam?”

  I could lose her, I realized, but I had to tell her the truth. “You know how I told you we all have done shit in our past we aren’t proud of?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “I can say that from firsthand experience. Only a few people know about this.” I paused. “And it’s the last thing I want to tell you.”

  “You can tell me,” she said, scooting closer. “Seriously, you can talk to me. Please.”

  I didn’t know where to start. It took me a few moments. “I should be graduating this year, along with Ollie, but I’m not.”

  “I remember you telling me you had to take some time off.”

  “It was sophomore year. I hadn’t been home a lot during the summer because I was helping coach a soccer camp in Maryland, but whenever I did go home, my sister . . . she was acting different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she was super jumpy and when she was home, she spent all her time in her bedroom. And apparently she was rarely home, according to my parents. My sister, she’s always been this bleeding heart, you know. Picking up stray animals and people, especially stray guys. Even when she was a tiny thing, she always buddied up with the most unpopular kid in the class.” I smiled at the memory. “She met this guy. He was a year or two older than her and I guess their relationship was serious—as serious as they can be when you’re sixteen. Met the kid once. Didn’t like him. And it had nothing to do with the fact he was trying to get with my little sister. There was just something about him that rubbed me the wrong way.”

  I dropped my hands to my knees as I felt the familiar anger building inside me. “I was home over Thanksgiving break and I was in the kitchen. Teresa was in there and we were messing around. She pushed me and I pushed her back, on her arm. Not even hard and she cried out like I’d seriously hurt her. At first I thought she was just being dumb, but there were tears in her eyes. She played it off and I forgot about it for that night, but on Thanksgiving morning, Mom walked in on her in a towel and she saw it.”

  Avery took a deep breath, and I shook my head. “My sister . . . she was covered in bruises. Up and down her arms, on her legs.” I closed my hands into helpless fists. “She said it was from dancing, but we all knew you couldn’t get bruises like that from dancing. It took almost all morning to get the truth out of her.”

  “It was her boyfriend?” she asked quietly.

  I swallowed hard. “The little fuck had been hitting her. He was smart about it, doing it in places that weren’t so easily noticeable. She stayed with him. I didn’t know why at first. Come to find out that she was too scared of him to break up.” Unable to sit still, I stood and prowled toward the window. “Who knows how long it would’ve continued if Mom hadn’t walked in when she did. Would Teresa have finally told someone? Or would that bastard have just kept hitting her one night and killed her?”

  My head hung forward. All of this felt like yesterday—the anger and helplessness. “God, I was so pissed, Avery. I wanted to kill the fuck. He was beating up my sister and my dad wanted to call the police, but what were they really going to do? Both of them were minors. He’d get his hands slapped and get counseling, whatever. And that’s bullshit. I wasn’t okay with that. I left Thanksgiving night and I found him. Didn’t take much, fucking small town and all. I knocked on his door and he came right out. I told him he couldn’t come around my sister anymore and you know what that little punk did?”

  “What?” she whispered.

  “He got all up in my face, puffing his fucking chest at me. Told me he would do whatever the fuck he wanted.” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I lost it. Angry isn’t even the word to use. I was enraged. I hit him and I didn’t stop.” Pulse pounding, I faced her. “I didn’t stop hitting him. Not when his parents came out or when his mom starting screaming. It took two police officers to get me off him.”

  Avery didn’t say anything as she stared at me.

  I rubbed my palms over my cheeks. “I ended up in jail and he ended up in a coma.”

  Her mouth opened in shock, and there it was. Ducking my chin, I looked away as I sat in the moon chair. “I’d been in fights before—normal shit. But nothing like that. My knuckles were busted wide open and I didn’t even feel it. My dad . . .” I shook my head. “He worked his magic. I should’ve gone away for a long time for that, but I didn’t. Guess it helped that the kid woke up a few days later.

  “I got off easy—not even a night in jail.” I smiled wryly. “But I couldn’t leave home for several months while it got worked out. I ended up with a year’s worth of community service at the local boys’ club and then another year’s worth of anger management. That’s what I do every Friday. My last session is in the fall. My family had to pay restitution and you don’t even want to know how much that cost. I had to stop playing soccer because of the community-service gig, but . . . like I said, I got off easy.”

  Avery looked away, brows pressing together. Her face was pale and the longer she was silent, the sicker I felt. What had I—

  “I understand,” she said quietly. I stared at her, not sure I was hearing her correctly.

  “What?” I said hoarsely.

  “I understand why you did it.”

  Did she hear anything I had done? I stood. “Avery—”

  “I don’t know what it says about me, but you were defending your sister and beating the crap out of someone isn’t the answer, but she’s your sister and . . .” She paused, seeming to search for the right words. “There are some people who deserve an ass kicking.”

  I stared at her.

  She unfolded her legs. “And there are probably some people who don’t even deserve to breathe. It’s a sick and sad thing to say, but it’s true. The guy could’ve killed your sister. Hell, he could have beaten some other girl to death.”

  “I deserve to be in jail, Avery. I almost killed him.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  I opened my mouth, but there were no words. How could she be so understanding?

  “Let me ask you a question. Would you do it again?”

  The million-dollar question. “I still would’ve driven to his house and I would’ve hit him. Maybe not as badly, but honestly, I don’t think it would’ve changed anything. The bastard beat my sister.”

  She inhaled deeply. “I don’t blame you.”

  I continued to stare at her, feeling as if I should drop to my knees. “You’re . . .”

  One slim shoulder rose. “Twisted?”

  “No.” I smiled, absolutely dumbfounded. “You’re remarkable.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, grinning slightly.

  “Seriously.” I sat down beside her on the couch. “I thought you would be disgusted or angry if you knew.”

  Avery shook her head, sending strands of coppery hair everywhere.

  My God, she was . . . there were no words. Dropping my forehead to hers, I cupped her cheeks. It felt like a gorilla had been lifted off my shoulders. “It feels good getting that off my chest. I don’t want there to be secrets between us.”

  Her lips curved up and I kissed their corners. Overcome with relief, I sat back, cradling her to my chest. This girl was . . . she was perfect in all the ways that mattered.

  I kissed the top of her head, and her chest rose sharply. The relief I felt was staggering, and I honestly hadn’t prepared myself for Shortcake to be so accepting. Sighing, I closed my eyes and gathered her as close as I could.

  Avery had accepted my secret. Now if only I could get her to see that I would do the same for her.

  Twenty-Four

  “You don’t think that’s enough roses for today?” Ollie asked, nodding at the single-stem rose I held in my hand. And then he glanced at the newest addition in the corner of the living room. “Plus that? You’re making the rest of us guys look bad.”

  Jase laughed from his position on the co
uch, bottle of beer in his hand. “I really don’t think you could appear any badder, Ollie.”

  He huffed as he kicked up his legs onto the coffee table. “At least I know ‘badder’ isn’t a word.”

  Jase smirked. “That’s about all you know.”

  I rolled Shortcake’s present into the outside hallway and then turned back to them, brows raised. “Are you guys going to be here all night getting drunk?”

  “Yep,” they replied in unison.

  “Well, have fun with that.” Saluting them, I slipped outside and placed her present beside her door, against the wall. I knocked, fighting an idiotic grin as I heard the soft thuds coming from her gift.

  Avery opened the door, her gaze dropping to the rose. “For me?”

  “Of course,” I said, handing it over as I stepped inside. “I am really sorry about not being able to take you out tonight, but—”

  “It’s cool. I know you have those meetings.” She carried the rose to the vase on her kitchen counter, where the rest of the roses I’d been giving her were. Looking over her shoulder at me, she cocked her head to the side. “What are you doing?”

  I grinned. “Stay right where you are and close your eyes.”

  “I have to close my eyes?”

  “Yep.”

  Excitement flashed across her face, but she was desperate to play it cool. “So it’s a surprise?”

  “Of course it is. So close your eyes.”

  Her lips twitched. “Your surprises are just as scary as your ideas.”

  I scoffed. “My ideas and my surprises are brilliant.”

  “Remember when you thought it would be a good idea to—”

  “Close your eyes, Avery.”

  Her grin spread into a wide smile as she obeyed. Spinning around, I hurried out to the hall and rolled the gift inside. I kicked the door shut. “Don’t peek.”

  Her brows rose. “Cam . . .”

  “A couple more seconds.” I wrapped my hand around hers, leading her from the kitchen into the living room. “Keep your eyes closed, okay?”

  “They’re closed.”

  I squeezed her hand and then let go. Stepping up from behind her, I slid an arm around her waist and leaned over her, kissing her temple. Her fingers curled around my arm as she sighed.

  “You can open your eyes now.” I kissed her cheek. “Or you can stand there with your eyes closed. I like that, too.”

  She laughed, and I knew the moment she opened her eyes. “Oh my God, Cam . . .”

  I’d decked out a fifty-gallon terrarium, complete with sand and rock bedding and foliage. Peeking out from a hidey-hole was a small tortoise, craning its neck, checking out its new home.

  She made a tiny, squeal-like noise.

  I chuckled. “You like?”

  “Like?” Shortcake pulled free and placed her hands on the glass. “I . . . I love it.”

  “Good.” I moved to stand beside her. “I thought Raphael could use a playdate.”

  She laughed as she squeezed her eyes tight and reopened them. “You shouldn’t have done all of this, Cam. This is . . . too much.”

  “It’s not that much and everyone needs a pet turtle.” I swooped down, kissing her cheek once more. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  Avery spun around and threw her arms around me. She kissed me, stealing my breath. “Thank you.”

  I brushed my lips over hers. “You’re welcome.

  She slid her arms around my waist and leaned in. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “You know, I really don’t know. Supposedly you can tell by the shape of their shell, but hell if I know.”

  “Well, boy or girl, I’m going to name him Michelangelo.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “Perfect.”

  “We just need two more.”

  This girl was fucking perfect. “So true.”

  She wiggled free, smiling. “Be right back.”

  Before I could say a word, she pivoted around and took off down the hall. While she was gone, I pushed the terrarium against the wall and turned the heat lamp on. Hearing her approach, I turned around.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day. It’s not as cool as your gift, but I hope you like it.”

  A card was shoved at my chest. Smiling, I took it and peered down at her. “I’m sure I will.” Carefully, I opened the card. There was a message written inside.

  You mean everything to me.

  I stared at the message for probably what was too long. My heart was pounding and warmth flooded my veins. I smiled—I smiled like I’d just been handed a million dollars. And that was before I even saw the tickets.

  I held them between my fingers. “This is an absolutely amazing gift, sweetheart.”

  “Really?” She clasped her hands together under her chest. “I hoped you’d like it. I mean, I know not playing soccer sucks and I hope this doesn’t make you sad going to the game and you don’t have to take me—”

  I caught the rest of her words with my lips and my tongue. I liked the tickets. The gift was great, but I’d never tell her that it was those five words that I loved. “Of course I’m taking you. The gift is perfect.” I nipped at her lower lip, and she gasped. “You’re perfect.”

  Those words replayed over and over in my hand as I clasped her hips and pulled her against me. I was fully aroused, which seemed like a constant state of being around her.

  My stomach dipped as she looped her arms around my neck. I didn’t have to say anything as I lifted her. Shortcake wrapped those legs right around my waist as I kissed her deeply, drinking her in and refusing to let her go. She moaned, and a painfully intense lust slammed into me.

  I was on a mindless autopilot as I carried her back to her room and my stomach was still dipping as I laid her on her back. I stared down at her for a few seconds and then I leaned back, tugging my sweater off and tossing it aside. I leaned over, planting my hands on either side of her head. My chest was rising and falling in uneven breaths. I needed her as badly as I needed the rush of taking a ball down the field, of scoring. Maybe even more so than that.

  She traced a delicate, slender finger over the flames surrounding the sun on my chest. “I love this tattoo. Why did you get it?”

  “You really want to know?”

  Her thick lashes lifted. “Yes.”

  “It’s pretty lame.”

  She continued to follow the design, sending a bolt of electricity through my body. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “I got it after the fight with Teresa’s ex.” I slid my hands under her shirt, smiling at the feel of her soft skin and when she lifted up so I could remove it. “I was kind of messed up for a while. Couldn’t go back to school, was stuck in my home, and I’d done that to myself. I was worried that there had been something wrong with me to lose it like I did.”

  She lowered her hands to her sides as I placed mine on her bare stomach, mere centimeters under the fragile clasp of her bra. My hair fell into my face as I leaned over, placing my other hand beside her head. “I was depressed. I was pissed off at myself and the world and all that bullshit.” I smoothed my hand down her belly, smiling when her hips lifted just a little bit. “I think I drank just about every liquor my dad had in his bar over the course of a couple of weeks. I knew my parents were worried, but . . .”

  The hollow between her raised breasts looked absolutely lonely and distracted me. Lowering my head, I pressed a kiss between them and did it again when she sucked in a soft breath. “Jase came to visit me often. So did Ollie. I probably would’ve lost my fucking mind without them.” Placing my fingers on the clasp, I looked up, my eyes locking with hers. “May I?”

  She nodded.

  “Thank you.” I lowered my gaze as I unhooked the clasp, leaving the rest in place. I’d never seen her bare there before. I wanted to take my sweet-ass time. “It was something Jase had said to me while I was drunk off my ass. Don’t know why, but it stuck with me.”

  Her chest rose as I dragged a finger up the center of her chest
. “What did . . . what did he say?”

  “He said something like things can’t be that bad if the sun is out and shining. Like I said, that stuck with me. Maybe because it’s the truth. As long as the sun’s shining, shit can’t be that bad. So that’s why I got a tattoo of the sun. Sort of a reminder.”

  “That’s not lame.” She smiled.

  “Hmm . . .” It was pretty lame, but it had worked. I hooked my finger under the edge of her bra and pushed it aside, doing the same to the other cup.

  I devoured her with my gaze. The dusky pink tips of her full breasts immediately puckered, begging me. Staring down at them, I felt like I’d never seen breasts before. I wanted to touch them, lick them, and suck them. All at once.

  “God, you’re beautiful, Avery.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  I gently ran my hand over her breasts, marveling in the feel of them. Her back arched and my gaze flicked up to her face. “So perfect,” I said, the words a rushed, low growl as I captured a hardened nipple between my thumb and finger.

  I wanted to see more of her.

  Meeting her gaze, I lowered my hand to the button on her jeans. When she nodded again, it was like winning the fucking World Cup. I slid her jeans down, stopping at the skull-and-bones socks. “Nice socks. Very goth.”

  When her jeans and socks were gone, I slid the bra down her arms. Within seconds, she was in panties. Rocking back, I admired my handiwork. The length of her legs and the curve of her waist were only separated by a scrap of lace. I almost went to remove it, but instinct told me no.

  It didn’t matter what had happened in her past. Either way, I knew beyond a doubt she had no experience in any of this. All of these things—the kissing, the touching through clothes, being naked—all of it was a first for her. And I wanted to experience all of those things right along with her.

  I kissed her slowly as I skimmed my hand over her chest, following the swell with my fingers. She moaned softly when I left her lips, trailing a path of tiny kisses down her throat. I hesitated for only a second and then closed my mouth over the tip of her breast.