Damn. Despite my advice. I wasn’t right all of the time. I knew the players’ histories, the team history, but I couldn’t predict the future.
“Not your fault, Dev.”
I frowned, feeling a cocktail of confusion mixed with denial. I wasn’t accustomed to being not guilty in anyone’s eyes.
“I have to pay Sonny,” Cade said.
“And Tex?”
He looked away from his cooling coffee. “I don’t know.”
Maybe in the middle of this insanity, I’d finally found where I belonged. In a pocket with Cade, of all people, the only real family I had left. And Rena. Somehow I knew they’d both be here when I walked away from Sonny.
Walking away was something I had to do on my own. I couldn’t take him Cade’s money just to soften the blow for myself. Cade needed to soften the blow for his dad. That I could give him.
“Eight-oh-four,” I started.
Cade’s brows rose.
“Got your phone?” I asked. When he pulled it out of his pocket, I recited the rest of Sonny’s phone number and gave him the address to the pizza parlor.
Rena
Tasha’s roommate was snoring on the other side of the dorm room while Tash and I watched her, lattes in hand.
“Shelby sleeps through anything,” Tash said. “Anyway, go on.”
“Do you think I was right to stay? I just feel like he…needed me.” And this morning, I woke up so overcome with feelings—dangerous, dangerous feelings—that surpassed the horny ones. Was I falling for Devlin?
Tash shook her honey-colored hair, pulled into a sloppy mess on top of her head. “You’re on shaky ground, my friend.”
I lifted one eyebrow. I loved her, but my bestie wasn’t exactly full of sage advice in the relationship department.
“You wanted Devlin because he was a bad boy.”
I opened my mouth to argue. The attraction was there despite how “bad” he was, but she kept talking, so I stayed quiet.
“Now you’ve got him, and you’re trying to turn him into Joshua.”
My head jerked on my neck in shock. There was no way, none, Devlin could ever be Joshua. Devlin was too much of a free thinker, and he was confident, and so sexy any woman within a ninety-mile radius noticed. And also: “I don’t want to turn him into Joshua.”
“Oh, you don’t?” she challenged. “You wouldn’t like it if Devlin called you every day? You wouldn’t like him to take you out to candlelit dinners? You wouldn’t want him to buy you jewelry?”
She was hard to take seriously in a bunny pajama set. She was also wrong.
“I don’t want that,” I answered honestly.
What she said made me think of Devlin in the real world. How would a “normal” relationship work with him, exactly? I pictured him coming for dinner at my mom’s, hanging out with Tasha and Tony at a frat party, or us at the grocery store. It alarmed me how awkward it was to picture him in the monotony of everyday life. He was easy to fit into private, stolen moments at work—in the freezer, or in the cramped office doing things we weren’t supposed to. Or in my apartment, bloody on my doorstep, or behind me in the hallway. That was Devlin in his element: in charge, full control, and wowing me with his badness. And me going along for the ride. Would being a couple make our hot hookups tepid by comparison?
“Plus, you don’t want to be, like, dating a guy who runs a restaurant, do you?” Tash scrunched her cheeks. “The hours are horrible.”
I blinked at her. Restaurant hours were the least of my worries. Devlin involved in criminal activity, however…
Yeah, that was an issue.
“Maybe you should keep it light. Have a good time with him, but get out before it gets to be too much.” She scrambled off her bed and stretched.
I sat, my head leaning against her wall, my latte cooling in my hand. What if it was already too much? My phone chimed, jarring me from my thoughts. Tasha and I exchanged glances. The text message was from an unknown number.
“Loverboy?” she teased.
“I don’t know.” But I did know.
The text read, COME OVER.
“Your smile says yes,” my best friend sang.
I typed in, who is this?
The response, again in shouty caps, made my insides tingle. YOU’D BETTER BE KIDDING.
“Well?”
I smiled at Tasha. “He wants me to come over. Should I?”
“Yes.” She plunked back onto the bed and took my phone, typing before I could grab it. When she handed it back, I saw she’d written, HELL YES!
“Tasha! He’s going to know that wasn’t me!” Her roommate stirred, and I covered my mouth.
“Lower your expectations, sweetie. You’re allowed to have good, hard, against-the-wall sex with your boy toy, as long as you don’t let yourself get in too deep.”
I slid off her bed. “Look who’s talking, Mrs. Tony Fry.”
She shook her head, but it lacked conviction. “I’m—we’re keeping it casual.”
“Tash…”
“I know! Okay? I know.” She pulled a pillow onto her lap and squeezed it tight. “But at least I know it’s not going to work out. I know he’ll get bored of me in a few weeks.”
My shoulders slumped. I hated seeing her like this. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You’re gorgeous, you’re intelligent, and you’re going to be the most epic therapist Ridgeway has ever seen. You could have any guy, like a real guy. Not a Tony.”
“Yeah? So could you.”
But Devlin was the guy I wanted. Despite what she thought, he was as real as they came.
“Hey, come out with me tonight.” She threw the pillow aside.
I looked at my phone screen, but Dev hadn’t texted me again. “Parade?”
“Not Parade. A group of girls from my sorority are going to this street race on Alley.”
“A street race?” Since when was Tasha into cars?
“Yeah. I wouldn’t go, normally, but Casey’s boyfriend, Roger, is racing.”
My phone chimed again, and I studied the screen.
“Loverboy?”
I nodded and picked up my latte. A smile broadened my features, and I didn’t try to hide it. “He wants me there after work.”
She heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Standing up your best friend for your bad-boy boyfriend. It starts.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, but as I waved goodbye and let myself out, I thought that maybe, despite my misgivings, I wished he were. Having a wish at all felt good.
Really good.
Chapter 15
Devlin
Donna delivered a slice of Triple Threat and a Pepsi to a booth by the window. Sonny excused himself when he saw me and had just now returned. With my new cellphone.
He plunked the shitty flip phone onto the table. “Don’t lose this one.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d already purchased one for myself. One not hooked to him, or the business. I took another bite, trying to think of the best way to say what I had to say. Then again, maybe there wasn’t a best way. He sat across from me and folded his hands.
I pushed the phone away. “I’ll get my own.”
He inclined his head.
Now or never. Time to see what I was made of. If I had the balls to say what I’d been silently wishing for years, and had pronounced to my new half brother hours ago.
“I’m out, Son,” I told him, emboldening myself enough to meet his eyes. I wasn’t timid about much, but disappointing him roiled my stomach. “I probably still owe you money, and I’ll pay it. We agreed as long as I work for you, you cut what I owe, but if you want to retract that agreement, I get it.”
His glare nearly burned a hole through my head. It took almost all of my courage to hold his gaze.
“You probably still owe me money?” he repeated flatly. “If I want to retract our agreement?” he said, hitting the letter T’s extra hard.
“I will pay it.” I said, trying not to fidget but failing. I balled a napkin in my
left hand. “If I have to I can—”
“The kid with the photographic memory,” Sonny grumbled. He sipped his coffee. “You probably still owe me money.” He huffed, a halfhearted chuckle. “How much do you owe me, smarty?”
I frowned. “I don’t know.”
“You know. Bet you have the exact amount down to the change logged in that big brain of yours.”
I swallowed. I did know. I just didn’t want to think about it. “If I pay you the amount I originally—”
“Devlin.”
Something in his craggy face softened and made me choke on my argument. I took a breath, and told him the truth. “We’re square,” I muttered. “Have been for a few years now.”
A slight smile tweaked his mouth. “A few years?”
“Twenty months.” I crunched the napkin tighter. “We’re square.”
“Yeah, kid. We’re square. So why you hangin’ on?”
I had to think about that. As much as I wanted a chance to see what I could be without him, I also hated to leave. Because he was what I knew. This life was what I knew. What I was good at.
“You want free of this shit, Dev?”
I did. At least a shot being free. I shook my head, unable to give voice to my thought. Why was this so hard?
“You should.” Sonny took a long gander around his tiny pizza place as we listened to the clattering coming from the kitchen, the soda machine running as a customer refilled his cup.
“I just…I want to try to make it. On my own. Live the kind of life…” I thought of my father. My mother. The faded photos in the album holding dreams never realized. I wanted to live the kind of the life I could be proud of. The kind of life with room for Rena. And more. At the idea of more, the hand wrapped around the napkin began to shake. So I changed the subject. “The apartment,” I told him. “I’ll move.”
“Your call, kid.”
“And I’ll return the SUV.”
“Keep it.”
I’d negotiated the SUV for payment when a bettor didn’t have the cash. It felt wrong to keep it if I was out. “Son—”
“Kid. Keep it.” He pushed a fist into the table and stood, taking his mug with him when he went. Without turning, he called over his shoulder. “Keep the phone, too.”
Six years being Sonny’s guy and he was letting me go. Granted, I’d offered to leave, but part of me…the part repeatedly damaged by abandonment, felt the sting of that cut. At the front door, I ventured a glance over my shoulder. Donna was wiping down the red plastic dine-in trays, Sonny nowhere to be seen.
He’d cut me loose.
I dropped the phone in my pocket. My parting gift, and last line to my mentor.
Not gonna lie, it kind of bothered me that he’d accepted my resignation so easily.
Rena
I showed up at Devlin’s after work. We didn’t make it to the bed.
“Your kitchen floor is surprisingly clean,” I said, admiring the virtually spotless slate tiles. “But freezing.” I shuddered.
Devlin lay on his back next to me, stark naked and mouthwateringly beautiful, his chest a series of lines and planes, shadows and highlights. His eyes were focused overhead, one hand resting on his chest. He’d been quiet tonight as if mulling something over. Earlier, I’d attempted to fill the air with a story from work when he grabbed me and kissed me hard on the mouth. Things had sort of gotten out of hand from there. I had no idea where he’d tossed my bra.
I propped my head on my hand and looked at him.
“What?” He smiled. It was so good to see him smile. He’d definitely relaxed since I showed up.
“Nothing. I’m just looking at you.”
“Tell me.”
My turn to smile…and ask him the question I’d been wondering since the infamous night in my hallway. “Do you think we’ll ever have sex in a bed?”
A low chuckle bobbed his throat. His openness expanded my heart…and made me remember Tasha’s warning. Melinda’s warning. Guys like Devlin weren’t keepers. He’s too dangerous. But even as the thought came, I shut it down. He wasn’t dangerous. What he did had risks, but he’d been at it for a long, long time. Obviously, he was good at staying safe.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “If you stay tonight, we’ll do it in the bed.” His blue eyes glittered in the LED lights illuminating our bodies.
I had peeked into his bedroom the last time I was here. Huge black iron bed with dark blankets, mahogany furniture. The room even smelled like him—not like cloying cologne or body spray, but the faint essence of spice, maybe from his soap or deodorant. It was the way he smelled now. I loved it.
Picturing us spread out on his black bedding, and then waking up on the pillow next to him in the morning, made me certain. I wanted the very thing with Devlin I shouldn’t let myself want.
Him. For good.
Forever.
I wasn’t at all ready for that level of attachment. The sex was light and fun, but somehow, the intimacy of sleeping with him—when he was sober, unlike the other night when bourbon had been his bedmate—was almost too much to handle.
I reached across his body and traced the number seven tat on his triceps. “What’s it mean?”
His eyes went to mine. I pulled my hand away.
“Lucky number?” I guessed.
“Was that night.”
I waited. He watched me as if deciding whether or not to share. It made me wonder if tonight had been intimate for him, too.
After a deep sigh, he finally spoke. “Dad took me with him to bet on the ponies sometimes. I watched every race, remembered every winner. When he realized I had a knack for remembering details about the horses—which were winners, which were favored—he started asking for my advice. I was ten years old the day we won, and won big.”
Moved by how much he’d shared, I whispered, “Thank you.” He gave me a sweet kiss I felt down to my freezing toes.
“The horse’s name was Lucky in Love.”
“Number seven?” I guessed.
“Number seven.”
“It’s a nice tattoo.” The 7 was an artistic font with big, balloon-shaped ends, shaded dark, and spanning the underside of his upper arm.
His lips lifted and his eyes warmed. I was suddenly nervous. Maybe I wasn’t ready to be on this level with Devlin. I shifted away from him, ready to make my escape. I needed distance from the heavy emotions crashing into me like waves on sharp rocks.
“I told Tasha I’d meet her for a thing tonight,” I said, trying to sound dismissive.
“What thing?” His brow marred in question.
I reached for my shoe and searched the kitchen for the other one. “Some street race thing. I don’t know.”
He tugged my shoe to get my attention. “Some street race thing?”
“Want to go?” I swallowed thickly. Did he? I had no idea. What would Tasha say when she met him? I wanted to know and didn’t want to know at the same time.
Before he could answer, his phone rang. He did a sit-up, clenching those mouthwatering sculpted abs, and reached for his phone on the counter over my head.
“Paul,” he said instead of hello.
His brows scrunched.
“When?”
Silence. Further scrunching.
“Where?” He stood and stuffed his legs into his jeans, the phone balanced between his ear and shoulder. “On my way.”
I gathered my clothes, and was pulling on my own jeans when he said, “Cade wrecked his car.”
I froze, naked from the waist up, and blinked at Devlin. He bent, and when he stood, he had my bra in hand. Numbly, I accepted it.
“Is he okay?” The pit of my stomach burned in warning.
“It’s bad,” he said quietly.
My racing heart skidded into my chest wall. Memories of the night I was in the car wreck, the night Joshua died, rained down over me. The eerie silence. The fear preventing me from pulling in a full breath as I wrestled with my seatbelt. I pu
t on my bra, my eyes unfocused on my surroundings. My shirts were stuffed into my hand next. I managed to pull on the tank top, but when I tried to fix my inside-out long-sleeved shirt, I burst into tears.
Devlin took the shirt from my hands and my vision became a sea of black when he pulled it over my head. I threaded my arms through the sleeves, my face wet, my nose running. He sat at a chair at the kitchen table and hauled me into his lap. With the pads of his fingers, he brushed the tears from my cheeks, then pushed my hair aside.
“Rena,” he whispered, so softly, I could hear how much he cared for me in those two spoken syllables.
His face went wonky as my eyes pooled with tears again. He pulled me closer, palming my head. I dropped my cheek onto his solid shoulder and sniffled.
“He’s alive.” His voice was gruff but tender at the same time.
“Okay.” My voice was watery and not stable at all.
“I’ll drop you at home.”
“I’m going.” No way could I go home alone after this news.
“Baby.” The word was soft, but his hold was firm.
I lifted my head. “I want to.”
He frowned.
“I’m going,” I insisted, getting frustrated.
With a sigh of acceptance, he muttered, “Okay. Call Tasha.”
“But she and Cade hate each other.” If Tasha’s reaction to him at the party was any indicator.
“They don’t,” he said, and his voice held the slightest bit of amusement.
My tears were drying, my cheeks beginning to cool. “I’m pretty sure they do.”
“Pretty sure they don’t, sweetheart.” He tweaked my chin. I liked being on his lap, being called sweetheart, being consoled. “Call her.”
This time I didn’t argue. I slid off his lap and stood.
“Your shoe’s in the sink.”
“Seriously?” I blinked, stunned.
“We’re wild, baby.” This earned me a full-fledged smile. A blinding flash of white against his tanned skin. At his disheveled hair and crinkled blue eyes, I smiled back. Devlin swatted my butt as I crossed the kitchen.
And despite the situation and the fact I should be more concerned about Cade than myself at the moment, Devlin’s words hooked into me and didn’t let go.
Fighting for Devlin (Lost Boys #1) Page 16
