Sunshine Bleeds A Black Edge (The Wild Things (standalone) Book 3)

by A. Wilding Wells

  “Please don’t tell my dad you caught us,” Bubble says.

  I chuckle a little at her state of panic. “Sweetheart, I won’t say a word. That’s not my business.”

  “Thank you.” She rushes to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders.

  “Rifle, time to make dinner. You’re on deck with pot pie. Bubble, you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner.”

  “You know how to make pot pie?” Bubble asks, throwing her hands in the air.

  She shoots Rifle a look so drunk with awe and curiosity that I burst out laughing. Teenage love is cute as fuck to witness firsthand.

  “I know how to make everything.” Rifle threads his fingers through hers and waggles his brow.

  “That includes babies,” I say, cuffing Rifle on the head. “But don’t. I’m not ready to be a grandpa yet.”

  Rifle and Bubble leave me on the porch as they proceed to the kitchen. I eavesdrop on their giggling and flirting, remembering the way Ruby and I used to do the same when I made dinner and dessert for her on occasion. Maybe that’s it? She wants a date. I’ll give her a damn fine one once she fesses up. More than a friend date though. I’ll play up this bullshit girlfriend act. Then, after that house of cards falls, I’ll take her back to our beginning and we’ll build a new house and life together.

  Open the door, Ruby. Tell me you got the box I sent. Tell me why those things in the box were tangled up together. What else is tangled up? Tell me I’m not making up stories in my head that’ll put you in a different house. The big house.

  Chapter 12

  Ruby

  Between the painkiller, the beer, and the meandering thoughts of Rebel and me, I finally fell asleep on the couch. At dawn, I wake up to Echo driving matchbox cars up and down my arms, his hot breath smelling of odiferous cheese gone one month too far.

  “Echo, sweetie. Go brush your teeth.” I kiss his forehead then nudge him.

  “Brushed last week.” He smiles, his teeth coated with miniscule butter-colored sweaters I can’t look at for a second longer.

  “Now.” I peel the cars from his massive hands and point to the bathroom.

  He stands, pouting. “Going,” he says, stomping away, his head hanging.

  “I’ll give the cars back when your teeth are white and shiny!”

  Echo arrives at my side a minute later, greedy palms open as he grunts at me. I place the cars on his palms and marvel at what a man he’s become. It makes me laugh because he’s six-two with a full beard that’s four inches long. My little twenty-nine-year-old brother.

  A pit forms in my stomach as I imagine what Opal would be like now and how different my life would be had she not died that disturbing night. I would have gone to Northwestern University with my full ride instead of opting for that modeling contract, and I would have kept dating Rebel, who never planned on going to college in the first place. He was going to start his own business. He was an idea a minute but hadn’t a dime to his name. Though I never doubted him.

  He worked two jobs all through high school, saving every penny to put toward his dream of becoming an entrepreneur. Crazy how things turned out. My demise allowed for his windfall of cash—or so I want to believe.

  Echo kneels in front of me and drives his cars up and down my arms again.

  “Hey,” I say to him. “I hear you’re taking classes at the center from Etta.”

  “Mama told me the gays go to Hell.”

  “Honey, Etta’s not gay. She’s…” I stop and think for a long sec. “She’s like Mom and me. She’s a woman.”

  “Not a man like me?” He pounds his chest and grins.

  God, he melts everything inside me.

  “No, not like you. She has female parts. Does that make sense?” I assume all he knows about anatomy is from Mom, which is something like, “If you touch your wee-wee, it will turn black and fall off.”

  “Like Opal?” His bottom lip thrusts out.

  “Yes, Opal was a woman like Etta.”

  “Is.” He scowls. “Opal is.” Echo looks away, wiping the edge of his eyes with the back of his hand, crushing me.

  I cup his cheek, bringing his face to mine. “Do you feel like Opal is still here?”

  “Mama talks to her, but I can’t find her.” He bends and peeks under the couch. Then he straightens. “She’s hiding.” He grins.

  “Where do you think she’s hiding?”

  “Away.” He points at various spots in the room and giggles.

  “But you remember she died? She’s gone.”

  Echo whines and shakes his head. “They took her.”

  “Yes. But she’s in our hearts.” I take his hands in mine and kiss them.

  Echo licks my kisses from his hands like a puppy might. His voice darkens, and his eyelids grow heavy. “She was my Opal.”

  “I know, honey. We miss her, don’t we?”

  He races cars across my shoulders, making sounds that fit his movements. “She told me bye.”

  “What?” I gasp, my insides frozen in fear. What did she say to him?

  “She gave me a goodbye picture.”

  Echo and Opal had talked mostly through cartoon drawings. It was their special way of communicating.

  “She said you hurt for her and she was going to hurt for you.”

  Covering my mouth, I wheeze in an unstable breath. My whole body jolts. “Echo…um…listen.” What do I tell him? I should have guessed she would confide in him. My mind zips around like a bumblebee.

  “Echo!” Mom screams. Then she whistles. “We’re waiting.”

  “Going on triples ride with Ma.”

  I stand and follow Echo outside. Mom busies herself with strapping Lake into the basket on the tandem bike.

  I cup Echo’s cheeks as we stare at each other. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m a man.” He hauls me into his arms and squeezes me like I’m his teddy bear. Squeezes me so hard that I fart. Then we both laugh.

  “Yes, you’re a man. I love you, E.”

  “You’re my Ruby. Don’t hide like Opal.”

  I nod because any words I want to say stick in my throat. Guilt floods my senses. Again.

  I urge him toward the bike. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  With Mom and Echo out on a bike ride, I go for a clear-my-head run. Curiosity gets the best of me, taking me down the road Rebel’s farm is on. I pick up speed as I near his driveway, my pulse racing in accord. Heartache thrives on torture.

  One second, I’m taking pleasure in the view of his manicured storybook farm nestled in rolling hills. The next, I’m flat on my back, no air coming or going, a pain in my ribs so severe, I roll my head to the side, looking for the punk with a steel bat who hit me.

  Air begins flowing into my lungs little bits at a time. I cannot have a broken rib, a broken wrist, and a broken heart.

  “Ruby?”

  I open my eyes and see a gorgeous, sweaty man over me. I hallucinate that it’s Rebel. Wait. It is Rebel. Great. I’m at the end of his driveway. That’s not obvious or mortifying. His beautiful, naked, drenched chest is dripping on me. His neck bulges with engorged veins as he stares into my eyes.

  “I know you don’t want me around,” I tell him. “But killing me is not the way to go.”

  “You trying to steal my mailbox?” He chuckles.

  I groan, trying to draw air into my achy lungs. Okay, maybe I didn’t break a rib. Please, God, for once…do something for me. Heal me fast. Then let Rebel lay his sweaty body on mine. I’ve had the weight of the world on me for years, when the only weight I want is his body pressed to mine. Naked. Sweaty. Rebel.

  “It attacked me.”

  “It won.” He smirks.

  “Will you see if my ribs are in it? I’ll take those and be on my way.” I lift my head, the pain in it and my chest so severe that I groan again.

  “Man, you’re just looking for attention left and right, aren’t you?”

  “That’s me.” I grunt and smile. “Little miss swim with the sha
rks when she’s bleeding out.”

  “I don’t want to move you until I take a look.” Rebel pushes my sweaty tank up my stomach. Then he shocks me to the core.

  Chapter 13

  Rebel

  She was racing so fast, like she knew I was behind her. Did she think she’d get a glimpse of my “girlfriend”? She slammed hard into my mailbox then flipped over the steel monster like a sozzled gymnast gut-checking a vault. She didn’t move for twenty seconds as I sprinted the last leg of my run toward her dead-still form lying half on the road, half on the gravel. Then she moaned.

  Ruby Mae Rose might have had the wind knocked out of her, but when she moaned, it didn’t matter. That moan got me. Hard. And, as I knelt over her sweaty body, I wanted more than to help her. I wanted to help myself. And claim her as mine.

  Peeling her top inch by glorious inch over her hard, sweat-covered abs, I suck a breath in through my nose. I’m unable to stop my fingers from shoving the drenched fabric higher. Then higher yet. I glide it over her perfect tits saddled tight in her running bra, waiting for eminent release. Ruby’s gaze meets mine, her lips parting, her tongue lining the slit until she pulls her bottom lip between her pearl-white teeth.

  “Rebel.”

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” I lie. I just want to see you naked.

  “I think my tits are fine.”

  “Yes, they are. Always been fine.”

  I travel my hands across the wet flesh of her waist, applying gentle pressure as I trace each rib. My dick isn’t the only part of me that wants her. My fingertips do too. My mouth wants in as well. Every cell in my body pulses to merge with hers. And fuck yes…I take my sweet-ass time meandering.

  Starting at one rib, I glide along with light pressure and promises of midnight fucks to come. At the next rib, I slow things down and appreciate her lips and the way her tongue cannot seem to get enough licking in. She must be hungry like I am. Poor girl is in agony, and I’m ready to come in my shorts like a seventeen-year-old.

  Pathetic as it is, I can’t stop. Jaws of Life couldn’t pry my hands off her. At the next rib, my fingertips take an exit route along her sweaty midriff. Her stomach undulates, which causes my dick to jolt. More than my next ten meals, I want to slide my fingers into her shorts. I tug them down; it’s nothing really. Harmless. Just a peek at her hip bones—that’s all I want. Just need to make sure she’s…okay.

  “Does this hurt?” I rub my thumb along a plum-colored bruise. “Can you take a deeper breath?”

  “I don’t think so.” She inhales a half breath. It hitches like she loves my touch. Hitches like she wants more right here on this country road.

  “Because it hurts too much right here?” I move my fingertips up along another bruise, scooting the bottom of her bra up until half her areola is exposed.

  Her throat bobs as she works small breaths in and out. Her chest blooms with color as her knees open wider, and her fingertips dig into the gravel at her sides.

  “Where does it hurt, baby?” I swallow hard and press my hips to hers. And I thrust once. Then once again.

  “Rebel.” She moans out my name. It’s so damn quiet. And sweet. And needy. I press harder and watch for more signs of need. Her face lights up like a Las Vegas billboard.

  Jesus, fuck me already. I’m dry-humping her. Roadside.

  “Here.” She moves my hand over her breast, exposing all of it until our joined hands rest on her heart.

  The beat of it is so strong I can hear it. I lower my head to her taut nipple and suckle her tit like it’s going to feed me for life.

  “Ruby. Fuck…” Lifting my chest, I press my forehead to hers, my face hovering over her lips, her sweet breath feathering my mouth. I need to kiss her. No. I need answers first. “Ruby. Dammit, woman.”

  “Rebel. I need it to stop hurting.”

  Fuck…so do I. And, if I keep this roadside exploration going, we might end up worse off than we were before I found her.

  “I think you’re going to be fine,” I tell her. And, though it kills me, I tug her bra over her breast, my heart aching as I do. Then, gently, I pull her drenched top down. “Got the wind knocked out of you.” Same as me. Almost got some common sense knocked out of me too. “You’ll be fine.”

  I help her up, embarrassment sitting on her face in streaks of pink.

  We stare at each other, both waiting for the other to say something, neither of us crossing the center line.

  “Talk to me, Ruby.”

  “I… Thanks for showing up.” That’s all she says.

  It would be wrong to shake the answers I want out of her, but it’s what I want to do. She’s not gonna budge an inch. So I nod. Then I cross the road and jog up my driveway. It was either that or I was going to shake her then fuck her in the ditch.

  “Say hey to your girlfriend,” she says.

  I know she thinks I might not have heard that snarky bullshit she’s tossing out. She’s forgotten; I survived.

  I turn, hands on my hips, dry patch in my throat. God fucking damn her.

  “I will, baby—when she wakes up. It was a long night. Then round three this morning.”

  “Just three?” She laughs then rubs her side and winces.

  Ruby Mae is still that same ballsy girl I fell in love with way back.

  “Well, yeah.” I chuckle. “Haven’t flipped her over yet.”

  Ruby smirks. “Well, enjoy that, Wishbone. Oh, and no need to help with the move. Rowdy stopped by earlier with donuts and coffee. He’s going to help me with the move. I don’t need you.”

  Well, fuck that shit. “Rowdy, huh?”

  “Yeah. We’ll be getting a late start since he’s taking me out dancing tonight at Tincat.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you there. ’Cause my girl and I have tickets for the band.”

  “Then you might want to make rounds four through eight on the flipside gentle.”

  “Don’t worry ’bout us, baby. We’ve perfected the art of fucking.” I walk toward her, talking shit all the while. I got game. All-fucking-day-and-night game. Super Bowl game. “I start her out real slow, my lips meandering every inch of her so she’ll come a few times before I fuck her hard. Then we make love like we’re one. You know how that is? Skin melting onto each other…hearts pounding…mouths parting only for air…”

  “You have to part for air?” Ruby glides a finger along my collarbone then up my throat. She stops on my Adam’s apple when it bobs. “That’s a shame, Rebel. If you were soul mates, all your air would come from her, because she’d take your breath away. Every last bit of it. Maybe you haven’t found the one yet. Now, that’s interesting.”

  Chapter 14

  Ruby

  Haven’t flipped her over yet, my ass. The only thing he hasn’t flipped over is his hard-on. For me. More like tripped over because it might be permanent considering I’ve seen it multiple times since I’ve come home. Felt it too.

  Maybe he thinks I didn’t notice it when he pressed his hips to mine while feeling up my ribs, my hip bones, and elsewhere. I should have feigned more pain. My other side… Check there too, Rebel. I think it hurts lower… Yeah…right where you’re pressing yourself against me. Don’t stop now.

  I need to get to the feed mill. Fast. If he beats me there, I’m toast. I’m up for playing this cat- and-mouse game if it’s what he needs to realize I’m his girl. What am I saying? His girl? Is this truly what I want? I’m so fucked if I fall hard again and then decide I can’t live in this damn town. Because the truth is, I don’t know if I can. But he’ll never leave it. He’s a Midwestern boy to the marrow of his bones. What if we fell in love again and neither of us was willing to move? Then what? That’s a hell of a commute. I want to call it impossible, though I’m willing to be hopeful. But first we need to be friends again and get beyond all his hate.

  Two miles to run. In high school, I ran a five-minute mile. Six is about all I can pull these days. And, now, I have this aching rib cage and the broken wrist I
’m lugging. Maybe I can do eight. Yeah, right. Knowing Rebel, he’s already in his truck, racing the other way, while I’m lazing down the road like a hobbling turtle. Yeah, he’s dashing there now because he wants to see my freaked-out expression when Rowdy asks what the hell I’m talking about.

  When I round the corner to the mill, nearly dead, I see him. There’s more pain in my chest than I thought could exist, and for numerous reasons. When I approach him, I don’t know who he’s talking to, but holy man beasts.

  “Hey.” I bend and place my hands on my knees, huffing and puffing like I’ve topped Mount Everest while toting a small village on my back.

  “Clocked in pretty quick, baby,” Rebel says, confident as the king of a lion pride. “Not quite your record, though.” He slaps my ass, and I jump.

  Straightening my stance, I glare at him. Mr. Flipside. “Aren’t you supposed to be flipping your pancake…buttering her backside? Li’l Missus Go Missing?”

  “She was a little sore. Said I split her too hard last night.”

  I burst out laughing. It’s big and fake, and goddamn, it hurts my chest, but I’m not backing down from his shit. “Wouldn’t have been the case if she were wet.”

  That scores me a dirty look.

  I turn my attention to the gents. “Ruby Mae Rose.” I shake the sexy beasts’ hands, holding on extra-long to ignite a spark in Rebel’s inner jealous jackass.

  When they introduce themselves, I all but lick their heavy British accents off the pavement.

  “Balthazar Cox.”

  The treble sinks lower.

  “Wolfgang Valentine.”

  Oh, Jesus. “Well, the pleasure is all mine.” I twist more toward them, my back facing Rebel, my chest jutted out even though it’s killing me.

  He clears his throat, dragging my attention to him. Oh, and there it is. Jealousy. That same jealous look he wore when any boy in high school talked to me. Especially the Kline boys.

  Rowdy swaggers down the stairs, two bags of feed slung over his shoulder, a girl in overalls following him.