Last Time We Kissed_A Second Chance Romance

by Nicole Snow

  “Thought you'd be smarter, Usher. Don't judge a book by its cover.” Jace gives me the side-eye. “Turns out, Snowball left school loaded. Hell, maybe he always was, I'm not really sure. While we were off chasing citations and internships, this glorious motherfucker was making bank. We were his market. Kids love to experiment like hell on campus these days.”

  My throat goes dry. The saltwater ocean breeze in the air wafting up my nostrils only makes it worse. “Market for what? Ecstasy? Weed? Heroin?” I cough on the last one, dreading the answer.

  “Think a little more salt of the earth, Usher. A little cheaper. That crap you're holding isn't just for rednecks and biker pricks anymore. Breaking Bad did wonders for marketing this shit to a new crowd.”

  Methamphetamine.

  My face dips down in disgust at the poison I'm holding. It isn't sky blue like it was in the TV show. It's dirtier, in just about every sense. My hand slips, subtly shaking, and the bag hits a rock tucked in front of my toe.

  “Hey, asshole, careful with that!” Jace growls, snatching it up, bringing it to his chest. “There's at least another ten grand in here, and plenty more where it came from.” His eyes shift to the pit, which might as well be a smoking crater, threatening to open wide and bring my whole world into hell.

  “You're fucking crazy!” I bite down on every word, ramming my palms in his chest. He rocks back, throwing the bag into his spider hole when he's steady again. “Goddamn, dude. A drug dealer? Don't tell me you've thought this through!”

  “If you'd lay off the kick in the balls for two seconds, ass-wipe, you'd know I'm not selling anything.” He talks like it's plain as day, written on his forehead or something. “I'm more like...a middleman, let's say. Giving these babies a nice home until it's time to send them down the distribution chain. Snowball has some wicked friends across several state lines, Usher. He's paying me big money for storage – nobody would ever suspect any of the places I've picked out. They're practically invisible.”

  “Places?” I growl, shaking my head. “You're telling me there's more?”

  “No shit. I told you, it'd be dumb to put all my eggs in one basket. Your ma's dogs have been sleeping right next to one.” His smile darkens, as if to say, fuck you, you're in this whether you like it or not.

  “Get a damn grip. I was real careful every time,” he whispers. “Made sure your ma and pops didn't see anything. Kept it away from the dogs, too, at the edge of the garden, so nobody'd ever –”

  I don't let him finish.

  My fist plows into his face.

  First time in my life I've ever hit another man and meant to do damage. Serious fucking damage.

  Crunched bones and bruises. Ruptured blood vessels.

  Whimpers. Tears. Heartbreak.

  Everything a shady, backstabbing, sociopath cock like my soon-to-be-ex-best-friend deserves.

  “Leave my parents the hell alone. You're not welcome in our house anymore.” Thunder ripples in my throat. I stare through him, wishing my eyes could burn a hole through this asshole's chest.

  "Usher, you fucking coward...should've known you weren't man enough for this." He stands up taller. "If you're kicking me out of your parents' house for the summer, then you're not showing your face around here either. Go home. Pretend I never showed you anything today. You rat me out, you're a dead man."

  Pain stabs at my chest. It's not his threat that bothers me. My thoughts go to Amy Kay, blissfully oblivious to this shit flinging. This nightmare on her doorstep.

  Fuck, I need to leave, but I also need to say goodbye. "Whatever you say, asshole. I'm going."

  I'm not thinking straight. Turning my back on this traitor, without growing eyes in the back of my head, is a huge mistake.

  I've only taken a few steps toward the house when he rushes forward, shoving me face first into the ground as hard as he can.

  I roll, so pissed my blood burns, ready to kill him and throw his body into that pit on the beach.

  "That's for putting your hands on me," Jace growls. "I'm warning you, Usher, you're not as fucking brilliant as you think. Let me stop by your place one more time to get my stuff. If I find out you've touched it, wrecked it, thrown it away before I get there, you've got a guaranteed ass kicking coming."

  I nod, standing, retreating toward the house and this time looking over my shoulder. Of course, I'm planning to rip his filth out of ma's garden first chance I get.

  Shit. As bad as I need to talk to Presh, I need to get home more.

  My parents could have their lives ruined by a DEA raid every second his crap sits on our property. There's no telling how sloppy he's been. For all I know, this house is under surveillance right now, Federal agents waiting for the right second to swoop down like hawks.

  I practically punch the door open, stepping into the kitchen. This time, my stomach growls, but it's all rage fueling it.

  I find a pen, tear a page off the notepad stuck to the fridge, and start writing frantically underneath the Chenocott and Morse Legal header.

  I keep it short and sweet.

  What fucking choice do I have?

  I can't just tell Presh her brother is a meth slinging halfwit. Not like this.

  I say there's urgent family business – true.

  Tell her last night meant the world – true.

  Swear I'll be back to explain everything – almost true.

  I don't know when, or how, or if I'll go for the jugular and make sure the Chenocotts find out the danger this asshole put them in.

  I hesitate on the last part, but only for a second.

  Love you Presh, I write, because I'm not sure I'll ever be in the mood for games again. I'd rather have her know and think I've lost my mind, saying it too soon, versus risking her never hearing it at all.

  Hell, now that it's on the page staring back at me, I know it's something I should have said a lot sooner. Jace's bullshit changes nothing. After this is sorted out and things are fixed at home, I'm heading back here, having that talk with Maxwell.

  I look up, ready to storm out to my car. Jace is waiting by the door, blocking an easy escape.

  Fuck him.

  I'm so on edge, it's hard not to run him down like a screaming bull. I stomp toward him, hating the thought of tearing up the Chenocott's lovely home if he throws another punch.

  There's no choice – it's on him.

  Despite the urge to knock his teeth out, if I squint carefully, I still see a brother. His twisted flip to the dark side can't change what we were: friends, fighters, wing men, endless bawdy laughs.

  Students, partners, inseparable as twins.

  We balanced each other's soft points. Made ourselves better together. Now, that's gone forever.

  “What's wrong? Too big a baby to walk past the guy you're about to screw over?” His words are a slow poison drip on my soul.

  “It's not too late to fix this.” We both know it is. I don't know why I'm bothering to give him wishful thinking, but I do. “Dig the crap up. Destroy it. Dump it back on Snowball. Pay him every cent you owe, and extra for the weed, too. Call it good. I'll go to the police with you.”

  Jace's face goes red and he scratches at the ten o'clock scruff on his cheek. “Fuck you, Usher. I don't need your brains to bail me out of this one. Too late for second thoughts. You were the one who said we needed capital, remember? I did this for us. Hell, if my money isn't good enough, then maybe I'll just throw the whole wad at something else. I see what I get now for ever listening to you. I –”

  I cut him off. We go back and forth, slinging accusations, getting absolutely nowhere.

  If Presh isn't awake by now, goddamn, she will be if we get much louder.

  It's past time to go.

  Last time we lock eyes, I can't believe how soulless he looks. His anger comes out mechanically, reactionary, without apology. My best friend is gone forever.

  He's too wrapped up in his own shitty excuses, his daddy issues, his own twisted ego. He can't see why housing meth to get
ahead is the biggest mistake of his life.

  Jace's nostrils flare, and the last words I ever want to hear from his evil mouth sour the air. “You're not family, asshole. Never were. My parents. My house. My sister. You want to keep that perfect goddamn grin, you'll keep away from everything. I'll pick up the pieces and we'll be done.”

  There's nothing left to say.

  I wheel around, slamming the door shut so hard behind me I think I damage the roof.

  He's faster than I think. It's a late summer night and I'm working like a maniac. I'm dirty, exhausted, in a mad rush to fix ma's garden. All so I can get the leather duffel bag unearthed and in my truck.

  Amy Kay's texts rattle my phone all day. I'm forced to ignore them.

  Haven't decided what to say back. There's nothing to say while I'm still struggling to get several pounds of drugs in plastic wrap off my property.

  I'm cleaning up, carrying the bag to my truck, when I hear another vehicle roar onto the curb next to our driveway. Stopping cold, I peep through the window, hoping Pops doesn't notice the sound.

  He's slumped peacefully in his recliner, the TV going. Right where he should stay for a few more hours until he lumbers to the other side of our rambler and crawls in bed for the night.

  Good. Means there's a chance I'll be able to deal with the asshole on our doorstep without anybody being the wiser, if I can keep my voice down.

  If we don't rip each other to pieces, I tell myself.

  Seems like the likeliest outcome after Jace climbs out of his convertible.

  Wait. Convertible?

  My eyes narrow. A coolness creeps into my veins. Jace drives an Escalade. Same black luxury beast he got for his eighteenth birthday.

  This is Amy Kay's car, and I can't imagine an excuse for him driving it that doesn't make me want to cave his face in.

  “Hold it right there with the bag, Usher,” Jace snarls, slamming the car's door. He stands, fists at his side, ready for a brawl. I'm not close enough to tell if he's drunk, but there's a good possibility.

  “Just hand it the fuck over and I'll be on my way. Don't care about my clothes. I need what's in that bag.”

  “Finders, keepers. Asshole,” I add.

  He snorts. “What, so you can sell it off behind my back?” Jace creeps closer, the moonlight turning pale in his eyes. “Or maybe I ought to be worried you'll just snort it up yourself and burn your smarts out, Usher. A boring, two-timing orphan piece of dog shit like you probably can't wait to have a little excitement.”

  My fingers white-knuckle the bag. It suddenly weighs a hundred pounds.

  Not so heavy I won't hesitate to throw it into his criminal face. “Fuck your excitement. I already get plenty of that with your lovely sister, thank you very much.”

  His eyes go big and he bares his teeth. I don't regret pissing him off.

  Amy Kay's too sweet to kiss and tell – I'm not that kind of asshole – but I knew it'd be the perfect way to bait him. Even better because it's true.

  I never take my eyes off her car behind him as he lets out a few more muffled curses and charges forward. We're roughly matched with strength. My reflexes are better.

  He's too enraged, and I'm eerily calm. I step aside just before he grabs my throat, throwing my full weight into his side. Jace never knows what hits him before he goes head-first into my tailgate.

  There's a savage echo through the metal after his head impacts it. He goes down groaning, clutching at his neck with both hands.

  “Move, asshole, so I know there's nothing broken.” I'm not so cold I'll leave him suffering out here if he's done real damage.

  It takes my shoe pressed into his ribs to turn him over.

  “Fuck...you...” he grunts, every syllable on fire.

  Smiling, I grab his arms, pull him onto the lawn. The vicious looks never stop while I dig in his pocket for his phone, finding her keys. “Can't have you messing around with this. You know the gas station up the street? The guy there'll probably let you use his to call for help. Whenever you're able to walk again. Rest here as long as you need to, buddy.” I slap him on the shoulder.

  He takes a swing at me, but it's way too slow and sloppy, sending him into the grass again. “Don't work too hard. I'll put this dirty laundry where it'll never bother you again. I'm sure Snowball won't be happy your little hiding spots weren't as secure as you said, but hey, at least you've got four hundred grand to pay the damages – and you won't even have to worry about laundering it.”

  A parting kick to the ribs leaves him breathless. That's how I want it.

  He gives me the finger as I throw the bag in the backseat, burying it under an umbrella and a blanket from a picnic we had a few weeks ago.

  Fuck, it was so much simpler then. How did everything get this complicated so fast?

  It's a question I keep asking as I turn onto the highway and drive south to Olympia. The gas tank is low, so I stop for fuel and a coffee after twenty minutes on the road. I want to go at least an hour or two down the Olympic peninsula, where the touristy places turn into the boonies.

  Something's been rattling around in the trunk since I squealed out of the neighborhood. I open it on my way back to the car and freeze. It's got nothing to do with the loud thunder booming overhead, a storm cracking through the atmosphere.

  “Oh, Jesus.” Words can't do justice when I see a familiar, dirty metal box.

  My fist bangs against it lightly before I remember I'm not alone here. I slam the trunk shut and jump back in the driver's seat, trying not to have a fucking panic attack.

  Jace must have come looking for all his drugs. He knew he couldn't trust me to stay quiet after our fallout, and hell, maybe it's the smartest thing he's done. If I'd managed to dispose of crap he buried by ma's flowers, I damn sure would've figured out a way to clear the Chenocott's place next.

  Looks like I don't have to. That's the only good in this. Amy's little car is stuffed with what I'm pretty sure is his entire very illegal stash.

  Of course, it also means I'm driving through the night with enough drugs to get a twenty year prison sentence. Fuck, maybe life.

  “Just breathe,” I tell myself, fusing my hands to the wheel, driving more careful than I ever have in my life.

  It's harder once the sky rips open. Hard rain pelts the road in a thick ocean deluge. Somebody pissed off Poseidon bad.

  But I follow the dark twisting highway as it narrows past Olympia. Into the night. Into the icy silence cut by wind and rain and nerves. Into my only chance to fix this shit for me, my folks, and the woman I love.

  It's an ugly miracle. I should be thankful. I keep telling myself I just need to find a ravine, somewhere with tall trees and water flowing back into the sea, where I can make this disgusting secret disappear forever.

  Lightning knifes the sky the further I drive. I'm somewhere near the edge of the Olympic forest, searching through the darkness for an isolated campground I can try, when it happens.

  Another shriek of blue howls through the darkness. I hear the wind whistling through the trees, but no thunder. It's too soon.

  There's no warning whatsoever before the top of the huge cedar slams into the road in front of me.

  No time to skid around it. No time to hit the brakes. No time to save myself or the car or my whole fucking future.

  There's a crunch of metal, a split second vertigo, and then I'm out.

  I don't wake up until morning, when I run miles, torn and bleeding to the nearest gas station.

  I tell Pops everything. He picks me up a couple hours later, brings me back, and we spend the next twenty-four hours in a mad rush to pack everything. The police were already picking through the wreck when we drove past it. What was left of its fire-blackened husk, anyway.

  Jace will never admit to his shit. He'll throw me under the bus and the Chenocotts will hire the best lawyers in Washington to save his skin.

  I see my only chance, and my parents agree: we have to leave Seattle forever.

 
11

  Love Unblinded (Amy Kay)

  Present Day

  My lungs work so hard they shake my whole body.

  Still not enough to stop the world from spinning while I press my back into the bed, knees trembling together, staring at the haunted man in front of me.

  “Presh? You okay? That's the long and short of it. You can pretty much guess what happened next, and fill in the gaps on your end.”

  Oh, I can fill in the blanks, all right.

  My heartbeat quickens to a sickly thump against my ribs, dark memories coming in threes.

  It started with the visit from the cops the next morning, not long after my parents came home. They questioned all of us, except for Jace. Dad wouldn't let him talk without a lawyer.

  I knew he was guilty. Knew it the instant I saw him with his busted lip and bloodshot eyes, not to mention the huge scratch across his head he tried to hide, angling his face up unnaturally.

  He also did the unexpected. He poured his heart out.

  My rock solid asshole brother actually broke down in a whimpering mess.

  How could I not believe him? Show him no sympathy?

  I'd never seen anything like it, him regressing to a little boy. A scared little boy at that.

  Usher's fault, he said.

  Two words I've staked the last six years of my life on. Two words I never wanted to believe.

  Two words I now know were planted by a liar, a hypocrite, and a coward.

  I press my face into my hands, wishing I could make Trent go away. It's not his fault the truth hurts so bad, sure. But him watching it sink in, seeing my misery...what the holy hell took him so long?

  My mind scatters in a dozen directions, stuck in the past.

  I see Jace shaking, walking with dad's lawyer, after he delivered his statement where he called Trent a drug dealer, a mastermind, a schemer who needed a dim-witted accomplice. He told the district judge it was Trent who hijacked my car, filled it full of the drugs he tried to bring to the police, and then crashed it on an isolated stretch through the woods just south of Olympia.