The Summer We Changed (Relentless Book 1)

by Barbara C. Doyle

  Don’t say it.

  “Because of you.”

  I stay quiet. My heartbeat increasing in my chest, like the news is welcoming.

  I’m fighting this like I always do. It’s a constant battle in my mind. Like Will. Don’t like Will. The way my heart flutters at the thought of his staying for me tells me the truth. The way butterflies form when he’s around tells me the truth.

  But I lie to myself. I force down the lies like I force down nasty cough syrup. Both thick, disgusting flavors. But I endure it, because the fear of losing Will altogether is too strong to risk.

  Who else would deal with my crazy ass?

  Certainly not Ian.

  “You two are dense,” he groans, swiping a palm down his face. “You both like each other. It’s damn obvious to everybody but you two. Just sleep with him already.”

  My face heats up. “What does sex have to do with anything? You should be telling me to express my feelings or some crap like that.”

  He eyes me. “Do I look like I’m the touchy-feely type? I express myself through actions, not words. If I want a girl, I take her.” He winks. “In more than one way.”

  Now I groan. “You’re a pig.”

  “I don’t deny it.”

  “And you’re also a liar,” I accuse. “You act like you can get any girl you want? Then what about Kasey?”

  He presses his lips together, jaw ticking at the sound of her name. Averting his eyes, he avoids my glare.

  Yeah, he doesn’t like it when the shoe is on the other foot.

  I nod. “Yeah, I thought so. Don’t act all high and mighty. You might fall off that damn pedestal you’re so high up on.”

  Before he can reply, the doctor comes in, pulling back the curtain that gives the tiny exam room privacy.

  Ian stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ll wait outside.”

  Guilt bubbles up in my chest, but I beat it back down like a damn whack-a-mole. No way in hell am I going to feel bad about being right.

  He acts like he can get anybody he wants—like he doesn’t have feelings that he can relate to. He wants me with Will because he never got to be with Kasey. What makes us so different?

  Nothing.

  In that moment, I realize the truth.

  We’re both cowards.

  Four stitches and a concussion.

  Not exactly what I wanted to hear. I will say, the doctor sewing up my bleeding chin distracted me from the awkwardness between Ian and me.

  I shouldn’t have brought up Kasey, but I can’t go back and change what I said.

  I just don’t see how it’s fair that people can give me constant crap about Will when some of them are no different. What makes everybody feel the need to dig into my business and then get irritated when I dish it back?

  When I leave the room, Ian’s talking to a few nurses by the registration desk. He’s leaning toward one of them, his panty-dropping smile spread across his face. I know he’s putting on his charm, just like he always does when there’s boobs around.

  I give him space, waiting in the far end of the room. I see one of them, a student nurse based on her baby face, slip him her number. Or, I assume it’s her number. It’s a piece of paper that he slides into the pocket of his jeans.

  He winks at her, she blushes, and the nurses go about their day when he saunters off.

  When he sees me watching, a smile forms on his face. At least he doesn’t look upset.

  “You ready?” he asks, no sign of irritation from earlier in his tone.

  I nod, but can’t let it go. “Listen, about earlier—”

  He waves it off. “You had a point,” he says, putting his hands in his jeans pockets. He gives me a side eye, as if warning me. “Don’t get used to me saying so either.”

  I can’t help but smile. “Whatever.”

  We walk in silence to his car in the lot he parked in after I went into the ER. He unlocks it, opening the door for me so I can get in.

  Before he shuts the door, I say, “Be careful, Wells. I might just think you’re a gentleman if you keep opening doors for me.”

  He grins. “Just part of the image.”

  I give him a doubtful look.

  Before I know it, my door is closed and he’s in the car beside me. He turns the car on and plays with the radio, one of their songs coming on the local station.

  I go to turn it up, but he flips the station.

  “Why’d you do that?” Doubt is thick in my words.

  He gives me a sheepish look, shrugging. Ian Wells looks … embarrassed. Who would have thought?

  “I hear our songs all the time,” he explains, finding a rock station that comes in. “I guess it’s tiring when the same stuff always plays.”

  Linkin Park is playing, which he seems to be content with.

  I stare at him. “That’s … wow.”

  He backs his car out from the spot. “What?”

  “You’re just surprising sometimes,” I admit, leaning my head against the cool glass. “You’re confident, cocky, a little arrogant, but you’re also kind of laid back. It’s a weird combination, but it works for you.”

  “You got that all because I changed the station?”

  “On your own song,” I point out.

  “’Heart Attack’ plays a lot.”

  “Because it’s good.”

  “We have better,” he informs me, stopping for an older couple crossing the road. It still surprises me that he’d change the channel. If it were me, I’d be bouncing in my seat and jamming out.

  Guess that shows how we’re different.

  “Like ‘Relentless’?”

  A smile tugs on his lips, like there’s a joke I’m not understanding. “Yeah, like that one. Is that your favorite?”

  I nod.

  He chuckles. “Interesting.”

  My eyebrows furrow in. “Why is that interesting?”

  “No reason.”

  I call bull.

  “Are you tired?” he asks, changing the subject.

  I shake my head. “Not really. Mostly sore.”

  “Did they give you pain meds?”

  “I didn’t want any.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You’re as stubborn as I remember.” I don’t deny it. “Do you want to hang out? I’m planning on meeting the guys at my parents’ house. We’re going to work on a few new songs together.”

  “They’re all back?” I know everybody made plans to disperse on break, which I don’t blame them for. I can’t imagine being on a bus with the same people for an excessive amount of time.

  The tour they were on was a year-long, and they travelled all over the country. I watched their journey on Instagram, and followed their band’s Facebook page. Will never understood my obsession. He would always find something else to do whenever I was on one of their pages.

  I’m fairly certain I heard him call me stalker from where he sulked from afar. He wasn’t wrong.

  Not sure what that says about me.

  “You in or out?” he asks, stopping at the stop sign.

  I bite my lip, weighing my options.

  If I tell him to take me back to my apartment, I’ll just cuddle with Ollie and binge watch something on Netflix. My watch list is growing out of control, after all.

  But my inner fangirl is yelling at me to tell him yes, to hang out. It’s not every day you get to chill with the band members of Relentless. I know they were just like me not long ago, but they’re not the same as they were back then.

  The guy I gave my virginity to, as embarrassing as it is thinking about it now, is not the same guy in the car. This guy has a future—a name. A label. He’s got everything going for him, people adoring him, girls chasing him. His dreams are on full blast, just like the rest of him.

  If I can’t live like that one day, I might as well live vicariously through him.

  I release my lower lip from my teeth. “I guess it’d be a good time to work on the pictures you guys want.”

  He g
rins. “Good choice, Freckles.”

  I half-expect to feel like a weird and giddy fifth wheel when we get to his place, like I’m crashing their band time or something. Kind of like I did back in high school, when their biggest goal was to get all the notes right to the covers they did of Journey songs so they didn’t make people’s ears bleed. But the welcoming smiles and greetings I get when I follow Ian in makes me feel like no time at all has passed since the last time I saw them.

  Despite the buzz surrounding Relentless, the guys sitting around on the old, plaid, hand-me-down couch and chairs are the same guys I remember watching practice all those years ago.

  Out of all of them, I think Ian and I spoke the most. But there were times when I’d banter with Dylan about what the best movie was. I’m sure his answer is still Super Troopers. I firmly stand behind Dirty Dancing. Because, come on, Swayze.

  As for Bash and Ben, I never spoke much to them in school. At most, we would share gym classes or study halls, and even then, I would have my nose in the books or earbuds in my ears to drown everybody out. They were all focused on their band or the girls who wanted to be their groupies. Not really my cup of tea.

  Dylan gets up first, sauntering over and circling me like a bird that just found roadkill. I cross my arms on my chest as he studies me, my eyes narrowing when I notice his gaze lasting a little too long on my butt.

  I clear my throat. “Like what you see, Hilton?”

  He doesn’t look ashamed he was caught, which doesn’t surprise me. Instead, he grins, and wraps me up in a bear hug, squeezing the breath out of me.

  “Looking good, Tessa,” he tells me, releasing me from his hold. He holds me at arm’s length, his playful brown eyes dancing with appraisal. “I’m not surprised that Ian’s been hogging you all to himself. He always goes after the pretty ones.”

  I shove his shoulder, grinning back at him. “Oh, please. Ian can’t handle all this.’

  Ian snorts from where he’s sitting in the armchair across from me. “If I remember correctly, I handled you just fine before.”

  I shoot him a death glare.

  The guys all laugh, Dylan probably snorting the loudest. It makes my cheeks heat up, probably turning a hideous shade of pink. Even though I’m pale, pink isn’t a great color on me.

  Dylan drapes an arm across my shoulders. “Relax, Tess. It isn’t like we didn’t know.”

  My wide-eyed gaze turns to him, the statement something I don’t see coming.

  “You know?” I shriek, my voice higher than normal.

  He winces at my high-pitch response. “Was I not supposed to? Sorry, Tess. Shit like that is locker room talk. I’m pretty sure most of the guys know about it.”

  My fists clench tight to my sides as I turn and glare at Ian. I hope my gaze burns him, because it’s certainly fueling a fire in me that I don’t know if I can control.

  Ian holds his hands up. “Hey, I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret. Dylan is right, that kind of shit is what guys gossip about. It’s like a bonding experience.”

  Now my fists are as tight as they can possibly be, the knuckles white. “That is so not helping your case right now, asshat! Who else knows?”

  My heart stops.

  Oh, God.

  Does Will know?

  Ian leans forward, giving me a small, apologetic smile. I don’t buy that he’s actually sorry though. I should have known that he would tell people. Isn’t that what all high school guys do when they get laid? It wasn’t what most high school girls did. At least, it wasn’t what I did.

  Sure, I treated losing my V-card like a chore I could cross off on my to-do list, but I didn’t want it broadcasted to the whole damn school.

  Ian was a player. Still is, from what I’ve seen.

  Nothing has changed.

  He keeps his voice light, probably trying to dig himself out of the deep hole he fell into him.

  At this point, he would need a ladder to get out.

  That is, if I don’t shove him back in it.

  “I thought you knew why Will and I stopped talking,” he says, his stupid blue eyes locking with mine.

  Will knows.

  He’s known … for all this time? Why did he never say anything?

  My shoulders dropped. “I thought you said you stopped talking after he decided to stay behind instead of join you guys.”

  Dylan intervened. “They had a pretty epic fight the night Will heard about you and Ian. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. The whole town raved about it.”

  Ben laughs, stretching his long legs out in front of him. His messy brown hair is in his eyes, so he shoves it away, revealing two chocolate hued orbs. A small dimple appears with the grin he casts me. “I think they made posters.”

  Bash nods, putting his arms behind his head to get more comfortable. “Maybe even made a YouTube video.”

  I gape at them all. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if any of that was true. Nothing exciting happens around here. The biggest event we had that made the town paper, besides Relentless’s return, was when the town store was supposedly robbed. One pumpkin was missing from the stand out front. Not even a month later, it was revealed that one of the employees just miscounted the inventory.

  The damn pumpkin was there the whole time.

  So, yeah, the town would rave about a fight breaking out. Especially between two guys who were supposed to be friends.

  And over me, no less.

  I frown. “I’m the reason you two stopped talking?” I ask quietly.

  Ian gives me a pleading look. “Don’t get all emotional on me, Freckles. I don’t do well with crying. Yes, Will and I stopped talking because of what went down between you and me. But it wasn’t your fault we stopped talking. He was pissed at me because he warned me to stay away from you, and I didn’t. I broke the bro code.”

  Dylan sits back down on the couch, an amused smile plastered on his face. “He punched you right in the face. I wish I got that on camera.”

  My jaw drops. “He did what?”

  Ian has the nerve to laugh. “I deserved it. Left me with a bruised eye not long before we left. It took the makeup artist who was doing some promo shots for our tour posters an hour to cover that son of a bitch up.”

  I’m still trying to wrap my head around Will doing something like that. He’s never been violent toward anybody. And what real reason did he have to act out on Ian? They were friends! Who cared if Ian broke the bro code. That was a stupid code anyway.

  “You look confused,” Ben muses.

  I shift from one foot to the other. “I guess I just have a hard time picturing Will doing something like that. It doesn’t seem like him.”

  “Chicks make dudes do crazy things,” Bash murmurs, sounding like he’s speaking from personal experience.

  Dylan shoves his shoulder with his. “Thinking about Opal, are you?”

  “Shut up,” Bash grumbles.

  “Opal Anderson?” I question, remembering the quiet girl in the grade above me. I knew she and Bash dated for a while before they left. What I remember even more is the breakup.

  I was in Coyote’s Café the day he ended it—the day she walked out the door. I never knew her well, but I could see how much she loved him. I could also see how much the whole breakup hurt her, and I respected her for being the one who walked away that day.

  I know a lot about their story, like a news story I needed updates on. Like how they were once best friends before they started dating. Part of me wants to ask Bash how they decided to be more—why they risked it.

  “The very one,” Dylan answers for him.

  “You guys …” I bite my lip in hesitation. “You two were friends, right? Before you got together?”

  Bash’s lips twitch. “Yeah. Once upon a time, we were friends. Can’t really say that now.”

  And that is why the risk isn’t always worth it.

  “But,” he adds, sighing heavily, “that doesn’t mean I don’t care about her any less than I
did. We all have our reasons for doing the shit we do. I wanted her to have opportunities that didn’t tie her to us. I did it because I loved her.”

  That makes my heart fill with hope. “Do you still love her?”

  Ian laughs. “He talks about her just about any free chance he can,” he answers before Bash can. “The guys and I were debating tossing his ass off the bus.”

  Dylan ruffles Bash’s hair, and Bash shoves him away, a disgruntled expression on his face.

  “Shut it you guys,” he warns. His eyes go to me. “If you’re asking because of you and Will, don’t let what happened with Opal and I be the judge of what happens between you two. The second Will punched Ian, it became abundantly clear how he felt.”

  Ian nods along in agreement. It’s like he doesn’t even care that he was punched, or that he got a black eye from it. I’ll never understand his cool and collected attitude toward things. He’s like a walking contradiction.

  I shift where I stand, pulling at the sleeves of my shift. “So do you guys want to talk about the pictures for your shoot?”

  Dylan claps his hands, rubbing his palms together. “I’m glad you brought that up, because I have some pretty good ideas about what we can do.”

  Bash slaps him upside the head. “We’re not doing a nude shoot, ass wipe.”

  My eyes bulge out of my head.

  Dylan sighs heavily. “I’m just saying, it’s not fair. I mean, Tess has only seen Ian naked. She’s missing out on what real men look like. I’ve been told that I’ve got a lot to offer, and you can’t tell me that it wouldn’t get sales up.”

  Words are beyond me at the request.

  “We’re trying to sell our music, not our bodies,” Ian retorts, shaking his head.

  Dylan opens his mouth to argue, but Ben stops him. “Yeah, man. And I’m not doing a photo shoot with a bunch of naked dudes. If you’re into that, I’m not judging. But that’s not my thing.”

  Bash snorts. “If anyone is going to be naked, it should be some chicks.”

  Dylan’s eyes light up. “Not a bad idea, Everly.”

  “For Christ’s sake,” I burst, putting my hands on my hips. “Nobody is getting naked!”