by L A Cotton
“Kim,” I said touching her on the shoulder. She spun around, beaming at me.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to hit the restroom then get more drinks, you want?”
“Root beer please.”
“You’ll be okay?”
She nodded and continued dancing to the band. They were good. Less heavy than some of the bands who played here. Weaving through the crowd, I made my way to the restrooms at the back of the building. Before I entered, I pulled out my cell phone. There were two missed calls and one voicemail. I dialed in and waited, expecting to hear Dad’s voice. But everything slowed down when Macey’s trembling voice filled the line.
“D- Devon, it’s... it’s me,” she sobbed. “I know you hate me, and I don’t know if you’ll even pick up this message, but I- I need you.”
I felt sucker punched. Here I was trying to move on, to put Macey Prince behind me, but she couldn’t just let me go. It was a cruel fucking world.
And I was done with it.
I went to pocket my cell but paused hearing Macey’s words playing over in my head.
I need you.
It’s all I’d wanted to hear, but I didn’t want to hear it like this, in some incoherent voicemail. She was drunk, the slur to her words obvious. Maybe she’d had another family argument or found herself lonely at a party. She didn’t really need me... she’d said so herself more than once.
So why the fuck was she calling me?
And if I was so determined to move on; why did my heart stutter the second I heard her voice over the line?
Shit.
I was on a date. I couldn’t just abandon Kim because of a drunken voicemail. I was supposed to be working on being a better person. On doing the right thing. And Kim was here right now. With me. Because she wanted to be.
So why was everything screaming at me to call Macey back?
I SAW HER THE SECOND I arrived outside the huge set of wrought-iron gates. Macey stood huddled against a tree, mascara streaked down her face, her hair disheveled. She looked like shit.
But more than that, she looked broken.
Before I could get out and go to her, she hurried over to the car and slid inside the passenger seat. “Thank you,” her voice quivered. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
“What happened?” It came out clipped, and she flinched. “I’m sorry,” my voice softened. “But I’m putting two and two together and coming up with five, Macey, and I—”
She’d been crying and that smell... it smelled a lot like the morning after my fifteenth birthday when Jared had stolen a bottle of Courvoisier from his old man and I’d woken up covered in my own puke.
“Please, Devon,” she sniffled. “I just want to get out of here.” The look in her eyes gutted me and it was the only reason I stepped on the gas instead of demanding answers.
Within minutes, Macey fell asleep, her body curled up on my passenger seat like a child. I’d never really noticed how much smaller she was than me before, but with her heels off and her legs folded underneath her it was more noticeable. She was drunk, that much was obvious, but there was something else... something I wasn’t sure I was prepared to hear.
“Mace?” I reached over and rubbed her knee gently. “We’re almost back in Wicked Bay.”
“We are?” Her voice was groggy.
“Should I take you home?”
“N- no.” She looked over at me, panic glittering in her eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Fuck.
I ran a hand through my hair, nodding. “You can stay at mine. My dad isn’t home.”
He rarely was these days.
“Thank you,” her voice was so small, she sounded lost in my car. Jesus, she was killing me. The sobs over the phone. Her broken smile when I’d picked her up. The uncertainty rolling off her now. Whatever happened back at that party had done a real number on her.
A few minutes later, we pulled up outside my house. It was almost one am. I helped her out of the car, surprised when she slid her hand into mine. But from her sluggish movements, I figured Macey was just exhausted and needed some help getting inside.
“How are you feeling?” I asked once the door closed behind us.
“I’ve been better.” She looked up at me through dark lashes, hugging herself tightly. The haunted look in her eyes slayed me. This was the Macey Prince I knew was hiding underneath her icy exterior. The Macey I’d wanted to know since that first night.
But I never wanted it to be like this.
“You know where my room is.” I flicked my head to the hall. “Go on back and I’ll bring you some water and Tylenol. You can take my bed. I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
“Devon, I—”
“It’s fine. Go get comfortable. T-shirts are in the top drawer, help yourself.”
“Thank you.”
I watched her go, and then went into the kitchen to get supplies, and to give myself a minute to catch my breath. Because riding home with her tucked on my seat like that, had me all twisted up inside.
When I finally made my way to the back of the house, I knocked on the door and peered inside. I don’t know what I’d expected to find, but her standing there in just my t-shirt and her panties, staring at me with those big brown eyes of hers, wasn’t it.
“I, hmm... Water.” I held out the bottle trying to look anywhere but at her smooth legs peeking out from under my t-shirt. “I got you water.”
“Thanks.” Macey took the bottle, her fingers grazing mine. A bolt of electricity zipped up my arm, but I had to fight my body’s reaction to her. Like she said, she’d called because she had no one else.
“I stole some gum; I hope that’s okay.” Her gaze flicked to the box on my desk.
“Yeah, of course. You want some Tylenol?”
“I’m okay. I think I puked it all up.” She pulled at the hem of my t-shirt.
So I wasn’t wrong earlier. She was drunk and then some.
“Want to talk about it yet?”
“Will you hate me if I say no?” Tears collected in the corners of her eyes and she visibly shuddered.
I stepped closer, unable to resist the pull toward her. I wanted to yank her into my arms and make it all better, but this had to be on her terms. “I could never hate you,” I said.
“You should,” she whispered.
“Macey—”
“I’ll tell you, I will, but right now I just want to sleep and pretend this night never happened.”
“Right, yeah.” My heart plummeted. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” I dropped the box of pain meds on top of the drawers and retreated toward the door.
“Wait,” her voice punched the air.
“Yeah?” I glanced back.
“Stay, Devon. I need you to stay with me tonight.” She hesitated. “If that’s okay?”
“I can do that.” It might kill me being close to her but what was one more night of suffering?
Relief lit up her eyes. “Thank you.” Macey climbed into my bed and lay on her side while I stripped down to my boxers, hit the light, and slipped in beside her. I knew she didn’t want to talk, already I felt the walls building back up around her, but I had to know one thing.
“Why me, Macey?” My voice cut through the silence. “Of all the people you could have called, why’d you call me?”
Her eyes fluttered shut and for a second, I thought she had fallen asleep. But then they opened again, and what I saw sucked the air clean from my lungs. “I don’t want to lie to myself anymore,” she whispered into the darkness.
“So, don’t.”
“I called you because I needed you. I was sitting there, scared and alone, and you were the first person I thought of.” A beat passed, but it felt like more. And then she breathed, “I need you, Devon.”
I didn’t get chance to ask her what that meant because she closed her eyes, snuggled closer and drifted off to sleep.
It was a long time before I did the same.
“AND SHE HIDES UNDER her armor, keeping her heart safe, but I won’t—”
“I didn’t know you played?” Macey pushed up on her elbow. She looked so fucking good lying there in my bed. A giant lump formed in my throat.
“I don’t, not really.”
“Devon... I’ve been laying here listening to you for the last ten minutes.”
“You were pretending to be asleep?” I arched a brow, unsure how I felt about her listening to me.
“I... you caught me.” She lowered her head, looking up at me through her lashes.
Wedging the guitar between the chair and wall, I stretched my arms out in front of me. It was early, but I’d been awake a while and Macey had looked so peaceful, I couldn’t resist watching her sleeping. Before I knew it, I’d reached for my guitar. “How’s the head?” I asked.
“It’s been better.” She sat up fully, but kept her bare legs covered. It’d been hell lying close to her all night, trying to stuff down the urge to reach out and touch her every time her legs brushed mine. “Thank you,” she said. “For last night.”
“Don’t mention it.” It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her if she remembered her last words to me before she drifted off to sleep, but things already felt awkward.
“I guess I owe you an explanation.” Macey tucked her hair behind her ear, averting her gaze.
“I’d like to know what happened, yeah. But only if you want to tell me.”
“I—” the sound of her cell phone vibrating interrupted her. “Sorry, I should probably get that.” Macey reached for her cell, where I’d left it charging, and checked the message. Her eyes grew hard as she read it.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“It’s Summer. She’s just checking in.” She didn’t reply, placing the phone back on the nightstand.
“If you want to call her, I can give you some—”
“No, it’s fine. They think I’m at Kara’s. Besides, I’m not ready to talk to them yet.”
But you’re ready to talk to me? I swallowed the words. Macey was here. She’d called me. Wherever this conversation led, that meant something.
Didn’t it?
“Will you...?” Her head bowed, but I caught the tint to her cheeks.
“Will I what, Macey?”
I was pretty sure I knew what she wanted, but she needed to say it. I couldn’t get this wrong again.
Not with her.
Macey’s eyes slid back to mine, and I saw a flicker of uncertainty there. “Will you come lie with me?”
“Scoot over.” I didn’t need asking twice. I got on the bed and leaned against the headboard, kicking my legs out in front of me. Macey lay her head on my chest, slipping her arm over my stomach. And fuck if it didn’t feel like our stars were aligning.
“There was a guy at the party the other week after the game.”
My muscles locked up, waiting for her next words. I didn’t want to hear them. Knew that if she admitted she’d been with someone else, it would gut me. But something told me Macey didn’t need the possessive asshat routine right now. She needed an ear. And I could be that for her.
“I- I kissed him.”
Motherfucker. Pressing my lips together to stop myself from screwing this up, I fisted the sheet at my side.
“Devon, say something.”
“You kissed him?” The words came out strangled. She wasn’t mine—we’d never crossed that line, defined what we were to one another. But fuck, if it didn’t feel like a betrayal.
“I... just for a second, but I stopped. I- I ran away from him.”
“You did?” Shit, I wanted to see her face. To look into her eyes and know what she was thinking, but Macey wanted comfort, she didn’t want the third degree.
“Yeah. I realized it felt all wrong. He was all wrong.”
“He was?”
Her fingers painted lazy circles on my t-shirt. At any other moment her touch would be distracting, but right now, I was strung tighter than a finely tuned guitar string.
“He wasn’t you, Devon.”
Hell-fucking-yeah, I silently whooped.
“What does this have to do with last night?” I asked, trying to broach the subject gently, but the second the words left my mouth, Macey tensed in my arm.
“It was his party. I didn’t know, or I wouldn’t have gone. I thought he’d forgotten all about me...”
My body vibrated with restless energy as I choked out the words, “Macey, did he hurt you?”
“He...” She inhaled a shuddering breath. “He tried.”
The air whooshed from my chest and I tried to stand up. I needed to stand up. But Macey flattened herself to me, locking her leg around mine, holding on with all her might. “Don’t, please? I’m okay, Devon. I promise you, I’m okay.”
But how could she be after some lowlife had tried to hurt her?
I nudged her onto her back and leaned over her. “How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true. He didn’t... he didn’t do anything.” Her eyes fluttered closed as she sucked in another shaky breath. “I think he spiked my drink. One minute I was fine, and the next everything was spinning. But something snapped, and I fought back. I ran and then I called you.”
Fuck.
“We should call someone, Macey.” I brushed the hair from her eyes. “Your parents, the police.”
“No. I don’t want that, Devon. You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
“What? Why the hell not?”
“Because if Maverick finds out, he’ll kill him.” I wouldn’t blame him. Someone touched his sister. What brother wouldn’t want to teach the guy a lesson?
But something about the statement had me frowning. It wasn’t the words so much as the way she said them—calm, measured, and with complete conviction—as if it wasn’t the first time they’d passed her lips.
“Maybe I should drive back down there and take care of him then.” I don’t know where the words came from. I wasn’t a fighter. Not like Maverick. But I’d do it. For Macey I’d do anything.
“Devon,” she said around a smile. “Don’t joke about that kind of thing.”
I lowered my face to hers, brushing my lips over hers. “Who said I’m joking?” Her eyes widened, and I smirked, pressing a kiss on the tip of her nose.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Devon.” The words left her mouth on a breathless sigh.
“Oh yeah, so what do you need?
“You.” She looped her arm around my neck. “I just need you.”
Chapter 13
MACEY
The words should have terrified me.
They didn’t.
Because when I’d needed him, Devon had come through.
As I’d sat there last night, crumpled against the tree, adrenaline and fear pumping through my body, I could have called Kyle or even Rick, and they would have come without question. But unlike Devon, who gave me the time and space to tell him what had happened, they would have demanded answers. Rick would have taken one look at me and stormed in the party and beaten answers out of the first guy he could lay his hands on. Because although my brothers were fiercely loyal and protective, they were also suffocating. They didn’t understand that sometimes the fight wasn’t theirs to fight. That sometimes I needed to stand alone.
Devon got it.
On some molecular level, he understood.
Even when I’d told him the truth, he didn’t lash out or punch the wall or shout, he pushed down all his emotions and listened.
He put my needs first.
“What are you saying, Macey?”
“I’m saying you should probably kiss me now.” I leaned up to meet his lips, but before I could reach him, he jerked back. “Devon?” My heart sank.
I was finally ready to put myself out there and he was rejecting me?
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
“For as much as I want to erase last night from your psyche; I don’t want to be another mistake you make.”
“But I—”
“Ssh.” His finger silenced my lips. “Get a shower, clear your head, and come have some breakfast. Then if you still feel the same, we’ll talk.”
Talk.
Talking was the last thing on my mind right now. But he had a point. I still had another guy’s touch, his smell, the vile memories, all over me.
“Okay.” I tried to push him off, so I could get up, but Devon grabbed my wrists gently pinning them either side of my head, nudging his nose softly against mine.
“This isn’t me rejecting you, okay? This is me giving you time and space to get your head straight. I know you’re strong. I know you say you’re fine. But what you went through last night is something you’re going to have to deal with. Now. Two weeks from now. It isn’t going away, Macey.”
There was a time I’d hated Devon Lions. I’d thought he was weak—too easily manipulated by toxic blondes like Caitlin Holloway. But I was wrong. He was good. And it was his goodness, the way he cared deeply about people, that made him easy to exploit.
Besides, people made mistakes in the name of those they loved all the time. And while I still didn’t understand everything about him, I wanted to.
“Macey?” he said when I continued staring up at him. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll get you some towels and put them in the bathroom.” He climbed off the bed and held out his hand for me. Our palms slid together, and I felt every nerve ending, a rush of warmth spreading through me.
“Bacon sound good?”
My stomach grumbled, and Devon smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled. Hooking his arm around my neck, he gathered me close, kissed my head and then left the room.
Taking a small piece of my heart with him.
AFTER A QUICK SHOWER, I felt much better. The hot jet streams were cleansing, washing away the hazy memories of the night before. Devon was right. I wasn’t fine, and under the sanctuary of the spray, I’d let myself cry. For those few solitary minutes, I’d let myself acknowledge what happened last night—what almost happened. When the tears dried up, I stepped out and slipped back into Devon’s t-shirt, not ready to let go of it yet. I cleaned my teeth with a blob of toothpaste and my finger, pulled on my jeans, and went in search of bacon.
