Wreck Me
Page 35
I retreat from the kitchen to get my cigarettes from my bedroom. It’s approaching five o’clock, which means, if they are coming, they will be pulling up soon. I decide to smoke while I make a trip to the mailbox, figuring multitasking means less time I’ll spend overanalyzing my life.
I regret the trip, though, as I puff on my cigarette and sift through nothing except bills. Water. Power. My tuition is also due. Not that it’s high because I qualify for grants, but a few hundred bucks equals a month dancing on the bar counter.
As I trudge back up the driveway, I frown at the envelopes in my hand. I really need to find a new, better job. Need to find Mason a daycare. Need to stop thinking about my dad and this Taylor girl who says she’s my sister. Need. Need. Need. So many things.
Pausing when I reach the pavement of the walkway, I take a moment to peer up at the clouds. “What are you trying to tell me with all this?” I ask the sky, even though the stars aren’t out. “With the bills. Conner. Taylor. Tristan... Is that why I ran into him today? Because I don’t know how that’s helping him. I’m a mess right now… The last thing he needs is a mess in his life.” Silence is my only response. “You know, I really should stop seeking answers from you. I would have if you wouldn’t have showed up when I died.”
As someone clears their throat from nearby, I look back down from the sky. My neighbor, Mrs. Felish, is standing at the fence line, staring at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. And I probably have.
I give her a small smile and a wave, then she tensely waves back before scurrying into her house and probably locking the door.
Great. Now the neighbors think I’m crazy.
Maybe I am.
Sighing, I linger near the driveway while finishing off my cigarette, stuck in my own head. I eventually take out my phone and stare at the call log of the last phone number that called me. Taylor hasn’t called me back, although why would she when I made it clear I don’t want to talk to her?
A few seconds later, I hear the boom of a radio. I glance down the street to see a bright red Chevy Nova driving up the road. It’s a rare enough car that I know who it belongs to. It pulls into my driveway and parks in front of the garage next to my Jeep. The music is cranked up, and Nova is belting out lyrics at the top of her lungs as she flails her arms around. From the passenger seat, Quinton is laughing at her. I can’t see into the backseat, so I have no idea if Tristan is in there.
Just chill out. Everything will be okay. It’s probably better if he doesn’t show up.
The music silences and then Nova gets out of the car, enthusiastically waving. “Hey!” She raises a plastic bag that she’s holding. “We brought snacks.”
“Awesome.” I point over my shoulder at the house as I drop the cigarette in a flowerpot near the garage. “You can take them inside, but I have to warn you that my brother is cooking, and he’s super weird about people being in the kitchen with him.”
Nova nods as she rounds the back of the Jeep and Quinton hurries up to her and takes her hand. I’m about to head in the house because it doesn’t look like anyone else is getting out of the car, but mid-turn Tristan emerges from the passenger side. The sight of him makes me acutely aware that not only am I a liar to other people, but I lie to myself all the time. Because it is better that he showed up, no matter what I’ve been telling myself.
I want him here.
With me.
Want to let him in.
Inside the walls of my house.
Of me.
His gaze drifts across the lines of my home before his eyes automatically find me and trace the curves of my body. Then that lopsided grin forms as he makes his way up the sidewalk toward me.
“Hey.” He’s holding something in his hand, still wearing the same black T-shirt he had on at the store, but the over shirt is gone. Faded jeans ride low on his h*ps and a collection of leather bands is on his wrist. Even with the dark and punkish attire, his bright blue eyes, and blond hair scream sexy, pretty boy charmer.
“Hey.” I wave at him, hyperaware that Nova and Quinton have scurried into the house and left us alone outside.
“So…” He stops in front of me then stuffs his hand into his pocket, seeming uncomfortable.
“So…” I say, equally as uncomfortable.
We trade a look, then we both sputter into laughter at the awkwardness.
“Wow, I think this is one of the most awkward greetings we’ve had.” He scratches the back of his neck, glancing over at a little yapping dog in Mrs. Felish’s yard.
“Sorry,” I tell him, uncertain what I’m even apologizing for.
Apparently he’s confused by the apology too, because when his blue eyes return to me, his forehead is creased with puzzlement. “Sorry for what?”
“For… not saying anything about Jax and Mason.”
“No, it’s okay.” He frees a breath as he lowers his arm to his side. “I get why you didn’t tell me.”
My brows shoot up. “You do? Really?”
He hesitantly nods. “Yeah, thanks to a very long explanation from Quinton, of all people.”
“Really?” I ask incredulously. “Quinton explained it to you?”
“I guess his aunt’s a single mom,” he explains, seeming stiff and tense. “And is super protective of letting people in.”
“That’s not really what I meant. I was just shocked Quinton talked to you because I’m pretty sure all I’ve ever heard him say is hi—he’s so quiet.”
“Yeah, but get a few Red Bulls in him, and he’ll talk your head off like a school girl.”
I giggle and somehow the noise breaks the tension and Tristan’s shoulders loosen.
“I feel like you’re telling all his secrets to me,” I say, coiling a strand of my hair around my finger.
“I kind of am.” He chuckles, but then shakes his head. “Enough about Quinton. This day is about you.” He extends his arm and unfolds his fingers around an object. “Happy birthday, Avery.”
I stare down at the candy necklace in his palm, oddly touched by the small gesture. “It’s the prettiest necklace I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t know about that, but it is made of sugar, and we both know how much you like that. I still can’t believe you ate that entire box of cupcakes in a day and still look like you do.” His gaze flows over the curve of my hips, lines of my waist, and the swells of my br**sts, causing my body temperature to jolt up a notch.
“Hey, you ate some of my cupcakes, too,” I say and when he grins, I realize just how dirty it sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” With his free hand, he reaches toward me and moves my fingers away from my hair, making a jolt of heat blaze through my body. I swallow hard as he drops the candy necklace into the palm of my hand. Then he casually drapes an arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him. “But if you ever want me to eat your cupcakes, you can just say so. I’m totally down for it.”
“You are such a dork.” I sweep my hair to the side, slip the candy necklace over my head, and then we start up the stairs for the screen door.
I pause before we enter the house when I spot Mason inside, skipping around in the kitchen. “Hey, so I just want to make sure that you’re okay with all of this.” I gesture at the door. “Because, if you’re not, I totally get it. I just need you to one hundred percent decide before we go in.”
“I’m okay with it,” he assures me with barely any hesitancy, which makes me question if he really thought about this and what it means.
“Are you sure?” I check again. “Because you seemed a little weird at the store, and I don’t want you to feel at all pressured or uncertain. We can just keep our friendship to strictly work, like we originally planned.”
“No, you originally planned that. I was trying to rack up enough brownie points so I could hang out with you like this,” he throws out there bluntly. “And I was quiet at the store because you shocked the shit out of me. I had no idea… and I thought… Well, I don’t know what I thought.”
“But what do you think now?” I ask, anxiously chewing on the candy necklace. “Because it’s really important. Not for me, but for…” I point over my shoulder through the screen where I know he can see Mason.
He stares at the screen, a small smile touching his lips when Mason belts out a few inappropriate lyrics to a song he shouldn’t know.
I groan in disapproval. “I told Jax not to listen to that when he was in the car.”
His lips quirk. “It’s kind of funny.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s going to get calls from the school when he drops the f-bomb.”
Tristan laughs, but the hilarity vanishes when his gaze reunites with mine. “You asked me what I think now, right?” When I nod, a slow breath falters from his lips. Then, with a slow inhale, his expression shifts, and suddenly, he’s backing me up against the wall just to the side of the screen door. “Are you sure? Because I need you to be sure before I answer you.” He places a hand on each side of my head, trapping me between his arms, almost in desperation.
The intensity pouring off of him makes it difficult to breathe and even harder to look away from him. “Y-yeah, I’m sure,” I stammer. I never, ever stammer, so I’m not sure what to make of it. As doubt etches his face, I try again. “Yes, please tell me what you think about all this because I really, really need to know.”
He nods, marginally bending his elbows to move closer, and I nervously nibble some more on the candy necklace. “When I got home today,” he begins, “I ran, which I’ve been doing a lot for the last four months, pretty much since the last time I did drugs. Usually, I run because I’m outrunning my addiction, but today, I was trying to outrun something else.” Carrying my gaze, he pauses, and I think I understand what he means—me. “But instead of outrunning it, I ended up wanting it more, so I stopped running, and now I’m here with you.”
“Is it because of what happened last night with Conner?” I have to ask, needing to fully understand his reason before we walk through that door. “Because I’m okay. I have Jax, so I’m not in this alone. I wouldn’t think any less of you if you bailed out. My life is intense, and I’m sure you don’t need that.”
“You think I’m here because I feel guilty your ex-husband’s a f**king douche?” he asks, confounded.
“I don’t know what to think. I’ve never done this before…” I motion between the two of us. “Whatever this is.”
“Well, I don’t feel guilty. At all. I’m just worried that…” He trails off, deliberating. “Well, are you sure you want me around? Considering… my past.”
“You mean your past that’s like mine?” I point out. “Because that would be very hypocritical of me.”
“Mine’s not exactly like yours,” he stresses. “I’ve done a lot of stuff I’m not proud of, that you don’t even know about yet. But I want to tell you… when you’re… I’m… if we’re ever ready.”
My fingers drift over the fabric of my dress, right over my stomach and the scars. “Doesn’t everyone have a tainted past in a way?” When he frowns, I shake my head. “Look, I’ll admit it. I was purposefully keeping my family from you and everyone else because I don’t want them getting wrecked, either. I made a promise a long time ago that it would never happen, that I wouldn’t let anyone into my life I didn’t trust.”
“But you’re letting me in now?”
“Yeah… I guess I trust you.” I shrug, gazing off over his shoulder, my nerves bubbling. “I think it was the kiss last night. It earned you like a hundred brownie points.” When I look at him, he’s full on grinning. “Don’t get all smug. It wasn’t just the kiss; it was also what you did for me when you kissed me… how safe you made me feel.”
His smile fades. “I did what anyone would.”
“No, you didn’t. Trust me; I have a lot of memories that prove people would rather let someone get hurt than intervene.”
Pity floods his eyes. “Avery—”
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” I talk over him. “I just want you to understand that you being here is a big deal and means that I think you’re a good person.”
He stares deeply into my eyes then nods, indecision clearly evident in his features. “One day, I hope you’ll tell me all your secrets, though.”
I like the idea in theory, although in the end, I know it’ll never happen. Not only because I can’t even fathom telling him all the shitty stuff that happened to me and about my sins, but because in less than a month, he’ll be leaving.
He’ll be gone.
And I’ll be alone.
Behind my walls.
Wrecked again.
“Now, enough sad talk.” I shift to cheerful Avery because I need to be her right now, or I’m going to fall apart. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have fun.”
A mischievous grin spreads across his face. “I have a few ideas to make that happen.” He dips his head and seals his lips to mine to bite on the candy necklace I’ve been chewing on.
My pulse accelerates as I mentally conjure up my own birthday happiness ideas. “Thief,” I say breathlessly as he chomps on a piece of candy.
His breath dances across my cheeks as he pushes back from the wall. “Are you ready to take me inside now?”
I regret the trip, though, as I puff on my cigarette and sift through nothing except bills. Water. Power. My tuition is also due. Not that it’s high because I qualify for grants, but a few hundred bucks equals a month dancing on the bar counter.
As I trudge back up the driveway, I frown at the envelopes in my hand. I really need to find a new, better job. Need to find Mason a daycare. Need to stop thinking about my dad and this Taylor girl who says she’s my sister. Need. Need. Need. So many things.
Pausing when I reach the pavement of the walkway, I take a moment to peer up at the clouds. “What are you trying to tell me with all this?” I ask the sky, even though the stars aren’t out. “With the bills. Conner. Taylor. Tristan... Is that why I ran into him today? Because I don’t know how that’s helping him. I’m a mess right now… The last thing he needs is a mess in his life.” Silence is my only response. “You know, I really should stop seeking answers from you. I would have if you wouldn’t have showed up when I died.”
As someone clears their throat from nearby, I look back down from the sky. My neighbor, Mrs. Felish, is standing at the fence line, staring at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. And I probably have.
I give her a small smile and a wave, then she tensely waves back before scurrying into her house and probably locking the door.
Great. Now the neighbors think I’m crazy.
Maybe I am.
Sighing, I linger near the driveway while finishing off my cigarette, stuck in my own head. I eventually take out my phone and stare at the call log of the last phone number that called me. Taylor hasn’t called me back, although why would she when I made it clear I don’t want to talk to her?
A few seconds later, I hear the boom of a radio. I glance down the street to see a bright red Chevy Nova driving up the road. It’s a rare enough car that I know who it belongs to. It pulls into my driveway and parks in front of the garage next to my Jeep. The music is cranked up, and Nova is belting out lyrics at the top of her lungs as she flails her arms around. From the passenger seat, Quinton is laughing at her. I can’t see into the backseat, so I have no idea if Tristan is in there.
Just chill out. Everything will be okay. It’s probably better if he doesn’t show up.
The music silences and then Nova gets out of the car, enthusiastically waving. “Hey!” She raises a plastic bag that she’s holding. “We brought snacks.”
“Awesome.” I point over my shoulder at the house as I drop the cigarette in a flowerpot near the garage. “You can take them inside, but I have to warn you that my brother is cooking, and he’s super weird about people being in the kitchen with him.”
Nova nods as she rounds the back of the Jeep and Quinton hurries up to her and takes her hand. I’m about to head in the house because it doesn’t look like anyone else is getting out of the car, but mid-turn Tristan emerges from the passenger side. The sight of him makes me acutely aware that not only am I a liar to other people, but I lie to myself all the time. Because it is better that he showed up, no matter what I’ve been telling myself.
I want him here.
With me.
Want to let him in.
Inside the walls of my house.
Of me.
His gaze drifts across the lines of my home before his eyes automatically find me and trace the curves of my body. Then that lopsided grin forms as he makes his way up the sidewalk toward me.
“Hey.” He’s holding something in his hand, still wearing the same black T-shirt he had on at the store, but the over shirt is gone. Faded jeans ride low on his h*ps and a collection of leather bands is on his wrist. Even with the dark and punkish attire, his bright blue eyes, and blond hair scream sexy, pretty boy charmer.
“Hey.” I wave at him, hyperaware that Nova and Quinton have scurried into the house and left us alone outside.
“So…” He stops in front of me then stuffs his hand into his pocket, seeming uncomfortable.
“So…” I say, equally as uncomfortable.
We trade a look, then we both sputter into laughter at the awkwardness.
“Wow, I think this is one of the most awkward greetings we’ve had.” He scratches the back of his neck, glancing over at a little yapping dog in Mrs. Felish’s yard.
“Sorry,” I tell him, uncertain what I’m even apologizing for.
Apparently he’s confused by the apology too, because when his blue eyes return to me, his forehead is creased with puzzlement. “Sorry for what?”
“For… not saying anything about Jax and Mason.”
“No, it’s okay.” He frees a breath as he lowers his arm to his side. “I get why you didn’t tell me.”
My brows shoot up. “You do? Really?”
He hesitantly nods. “Yeah, thanks to a very long explanation from Quinton, of all people.”
“Really?” I ask incredulously. “Quinton explained it to you?”
“I guess his aunt’s a single mom,” he explains, seeming stiff and tense. “And is super protective of letting people in.”
“That’s not really what I meant. I was just shocked Quinton talked to you because I’m pretty sure all I’ve ever heard him say is hi—he’s so quiet.”
“Yeah, but get a few Red Bulls in him, and he’ll talk your head off like a school girl.”
I giggle and somehow the noise breaks the tension and Tristan’s shoulders loosen.
“I feel like you’re telling all his secrets to me,” I say, coiling a strand of my hair around my finger.
“I kind of am.” He chuckles, but then shakes his head. “Enough about Quinton. This day is about you.” He extends his arm and unfolds his fingers around an object. “Happy birthday, Avery.”
I stare down at the candy necklace in his palm, oddly touched by the small gesture. “It’s the prettiest necklace I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t know about that, but it is made of sugar, and we both know how much you like that. I still can’t believe you ate that entire box of cupcakes in a day and still look like you do.” His gaze flows over the curve of my hips, lines of my waist, and the swells of my br**sts, causing my body temperature to jolt up a notch.
“Hey, you ate some of my cupcakes, too,” I say and when he grins, I realize just how dirty it sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” With his free hand, he reaches toward me and moves my fingers away from my hair, making a jolt of heat blaze through my body. I swallow hard as he drops the candy necklace into the palm of my hand. Then he casually drapes an arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him. “But if you ever want me to eat your cupcakes, you can just say so. I’m totally down for it.”
“You are such a dork.” I sweep my hair to the side, slip the candy necklace over my head, and then we start up the stairs for the screen door.
I pause before we enter the house when I spot Mason inside, skipping around in the kitchen. “Hey, so I just want to make sure that you’re okay with all of this.” I gesture at the door. “Because, if you’re not, I totally get it. I just need you to one hundred percent decide before we go in.”
“I’m okay with it,” he assures me with barely any hesitancy, which makes me question if he really thought about this and what it means.
“Are you sure?” I check again. “Because you seemed a little weird at the store, and I don’t want you to feel at all pressured or uncertain. We can just keep our friendship to strictly work, like we originally planned.”
“No, you originally planned that. I was trying to rack up enough brownie points so I could hang out with you like this,” he throws out there bluntly. “And I was quiet at the store because you shocked the shit out of me. I had no idea… and I thought… Well, I don’t know what I thought.”
“But what do you think now?” I ask, anxiously chewing on the candy necklace. “Because it’s really important. Not for me, but for…” I point over my shoulder through the screen where I know he can see Mason.
He stares at the screen, a small smile touching his lips when Mason belts out a few inappropriate lyrics to a song he shouldn’t know.
I groan in disapproval. “I told Jax not to listen to that when he was in the car.”
His lips quirk. “It’s kind of funny.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s going to get calls from the school when he drops the f-bomb.”
Tristan laughs, but the hilarity vanishes when his gaze reunites with mine. “You asked me what I think now, right?” When I nod, a slow breath falters from his lips. Then, with a slow inhale, his expression shifts, and suddenly, he’s backing me up against the wall just to the side of the screen door. “Are you sure? Because I need you to be sure before I answer you.” He places a hand on each side of my head, trapping me between his arms, almost in desperation.
The intensity pouring off of him makes it difficult to breathe and even harder to look away from him. “Y-yeah, I’m sure,” I stammer. I never, ever stammer, so I’m not sure what to make of it. As doubt etches his face, I try again. “Yes, please tell me what you think about all this because I really, really need to know.”
He nods, marginally bending his elbows to move closer, and I nervously nibble some more on the candy necklace. “When I got home today,” he begins, “I ran, which I’ve been doing a lot for the last four months, pretty much since the last time I did drugs. Usually, I run because I’m outrunning my addiction, but today, I was trying to outrun something else.” Carrying my gaze, he pauses, and I think I understand what he means—me. “But instead of outrunning it, I ended up wanting it more, so I stopped running, and now I’m here with you.”
“Is it because of what happened last night with Conner?” I have to ask, needing to fully understand his reason before we walk through that door. “Because I’m okay. I have Jax, so I’m not in this alone. I wouldn’t think any less of you if you bailed out. My life is intense, and I’m sure you don’t need that.”
“You think I’m here because I feel guilty your ex-husband’s a f**king douche?” he asks, confounded.
“I don’t know what to think. I’ve never done this before…” I motion between the two of us. “Whatever this is.”
“Well, I don’t feel guilty. At all. I’m just worried that…” He trails off, deliberating. “Well, are you sure you want me around? Considering… my past.”
“You mean your past that’s like mine?” I point out. “Because that would be very hypocritical of me.”
“Mine’s not exactly like yours,” he stresses. “I’ve done a lot of stuff I’m not proud of, that you don’t even know about yet. But I want to tell you… when you’re… I’m… if we’re ever ready.”
My fingers drift over the fabric of my dress, right over my stomach and the scars. “Doesn’t everyone have a tainted past in a way?” When he frowns, I shake my head. “Look, I’ll admit it. I was purposefully keeping my family from you and everyone else because I don’t want them getting wrecked, either. I made a promise a long time ago that it would never happen, that I wouldn’t let anyone into my life I didn’t trust.”
“But you’re letting me in now?”
“Yeah… I guess I trust you.” I shrug, gazing off over his shoulder, my nerves bubbling. “I think it was the kiss last night. It earned you like a hundred brownie points.” When I look at him, he’s full on grinning. “Don’t get all smug. It wasn’t just the kiss; it was also what you did for me when you kissed me… how safe you made me feel.”
His smile fades. “I did what anyone would.”
“No, you didn’t. Trust me; I have a lot of memories that prove people would rather let someone get hurt than intervene.”
Pity floods his eyes. “Avery—”
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” I talk over him. “I just want you to understand that you being here is a big deal and means that I think you’re a good person.”
He stares deeply into my eyes then nods, indecision clearly evident in his features. “One day, I hope you’ll tell me all your secrets, though.”
I like the idea in theory, although in the end, I know it’ll never happen. Not only because I can’t even fathom telling him all the shitty stuff that happened to me and about my sins, but because in less than a month, he’ll be leaving.
He’ll be gone.
And I’ll be alone.
Behind my walls.
Wrecked again.
“Now, enough sad talk.” I shift to cheerful Avery because I need to be her right now, or I’m going to fall apart. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have fun.”
A mischievous grin spreads across his face. “I have a few ideas to make that happen.” He dips his head and seals his lips to mine to bite on the candy necklace I’ve been chewing on.
My pulse accelerates as I mentally conjure up my own birthday happiness ideas. “Thief,” I say breathlessly as he chomps on a piece of candy.
His breath dances across my cheeks as he pushes back from the wall. “Are you ready to take me inside now?”
