Amber to Ashes (The Torn Heart #1) (20 page)

Amber’s brows raise, an
are we not considered adults?
confused look pestering her face. I can tell she wants to speak up, her brain working the situation as her grip on my hand turns fierce, protective. Though I’m sure she’s mulling over saying something nasty yet flavored with the right amount of politeness to my father, she stays quiet, her jaw tightening as she aims a pretty smile in his direction.

Cathy does one of those girly
eep
things, completely oblivious to the turmoil churning in the air. “This should be fun. I’ve never been in a limo before.”

“
Come again?
” my mother asks, shock rocking her tone.

“A limo, we’ve never been in one.” Cathy’s voice is warm, her eyes alight with excitement as she tilts her head toward Mark. “Not even on our wedding day. The funds just weren’t there.”

My mother’s mouth drops agape, but my father shoots her a warning stare, silencing whatever judgmental sludge is about to drip from it. She huffs, going back to whatever the fuck it is she’s doing on her phone.

Amber clears her throat. “All right, so we’ll see you there, then?”

“Sounds good, sweetie.” Cathy grins. “This’ll be a treat for us.”

My chest burns at the way she converses with Amber. It’s clear to see how much she loves my girl. Loves her like she’s her own flesh and blood. She looks at her with such a tender expression, my stomach flips, doing somersaults. This evening’s already throwing me off my game, and it’s just begun. Something’s telling me it’s gonna take one of Amber’s expert blow jobs and at least a pound’s worth of green to recover from this shit.

“Awesome,” Ambers says, her voice a thin, uneasy stroke as she hugs Cathy and Mark good-bye.

As Brit and both sets of parents make their way out of the lobby, I tangle my fingers through Amber’s, squeezing her hand in a display of gratitude, a silent thank-you for putting up with the freak sideshow that is my life. I’m as hesitant of this situation as she’s become, my hackles raising with every beat of my heart. But I know I need to man up and give her some form of reassurance. She lets out a breath, stress flaking the whites of her eyes. I take the opportunity to pull her close and wrap my arms around her waist, trying with everything in me to kill the anxiety spitting through her veins. After a few quiet seconds, I release her from my hold and we move outside to wait on my Hummer, my nerves unleashing their torrent on my muscles—tightening each one like a virgin’s pussy—as the valet pulls up.

I tip the kid and hop inside my Hummer, the majority of the ride spent silent as the lights heading north on 695 taunt my vision with every wordless breath Amber and I consume.

“Your parents seem . . . nice,” Amber finally says, her lips two taut, downward frowns as she spreads a thin layer of glittery pink gloss along the heavenly gifts. “Good people.”

“I’m glad you think so.” I chuckle, entertained by how she so easily tells a lie. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought we were siblings—our father’s acts of promiscuity the result of us sharing the same fucked-up genetic makeup. We’re both liars, two twisted souls cheating our way through the death maze of truth. Amber mentioned having a half brother she’s never met. Shit, for all I know I’m him, our chance meeting the dude upstairs’ way of saying,
No, motherfucker. I
am
the one who holds the bolts in the train wreck of your future, the almighty pimp of your destiny. Never forget that, dickwad.

I flick my attention back to Amber, my eyes drowning in her self-conscious beauty as she drops her gloss into her clutch. “You might be good at stealing my heart, but ya need to work on thieving my intellect. You’re full of shit, Ber. I know it, you know it—my parents are assholes. End of story.”

“Okay. You caught me. They’re as close to douche as you can get.” She grins, playfully swatting my arm. “But I’ve never met a boy’s parents before, so this is
still
big for me.”

“A
boy
?” I grunt, knowing she’s purposely trying to flip the sour mood in her sexual favor. “I thought I’d shown you, on more than one occasion, I’m all man, baby girl.”

She laughs, mischief shimmying across her face as her fingers skirt around the shell of my ear. “Am I bruising your ego?”

I smirk, loving how she knows me so well. “I think you need a good spanking.”

“I’m not opposed to that very thing,” she fires back, branding my cheek with one of her kisses before leaning back in her seat.

I laugh, then sober for a minute. “Thanks for being here with me.”

“You’re the one that let this happen,” she says softly, sincerity streaming from her words.

Something takes over—a tug in my gut, screaming out that I have to make this girl understand how much I need her with me. “I want you in every part of my life, Amber.”

She angles her body toward mine. “I want to be there too, Brock. I need to know this side of you.”

“Even if it’s ugly?” I whisper.

“
Especially
if it’s ugly,” she says, her gaze tender. “You know my ugly parts, yet here you are.”

Jesus. I’m falling for her so fast—almost too fast, and there’s no stopping the forward momentum. “Nothing you could ever do or say would scare me away.”

“I’ve never felt happy before,” she whispers, her honesty bridging the space between us. “But with you, I think I can be.”

My heart stills, my eyes drifting over the vulnerability lining her face. She’s giving me a glimpse inside her soul, exposing a piece of herself she rarely does. Hell, if it takes bringing her to meet my insane parents to admit that I could make her as happy as she does me, I’ll do it a million times over.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, a blush burning her skin.

“You kind of . . . complete me,” I answer, honestly feeling it.

Without a word, she wraps her hand in mine and we ride the rest of the way in comfortable silence, enjoying the growing closeness between us.

Once at the restaurant—a popular Italian joint overlooking the harbor—the hostess leads us to a private room, where everyone is already seated. The second we walk in, I immediately notice that my father has ordered several bottles of wine. My mother’s sipping away at the expensive merlot, her face an impassive mask as she starts to loosen up. She’s removed her sunglasses, her arm lazily draped over the back of Brit’s chair as I examine the deep lines scratching her forehead, the heavy black bags beneath her eyes. My chest tightens, my body aching as the tortured appearance of the woman who gave me life pummels me down to my core. Another sip, the stem of the wineglass dangling between her fragile fingers as my pulse rises. Instincts
alight, the thought of tonight’s imminent embarrassment kills me as I unbutton my suit jacket, pulling out a seat for Amber.

Releasing a breath, I take the chair next to Amber’s and glance around the table. Everyone else seems to be in good spirits, the chatter flowing freely.

I use the opportunity to speak. “I want to thank everyone for coming tonight.” The pitch of my tone wavers as my attention connects to my mother. I search her expression for a hint of life. It’s not there, nothing but a desert filled with the skeletal remains of who she was when I was a kid. “It’s not often we get together, but it’s nice when we do.” Most of what I just uttered is a lie—it’s usually intense, painful bullshit brought up from the past when we see each other—but I want my mom to know that even though she doesn’t want me in her life, no longer loves me because of Brandon going missing, I continue to love and need her in my own way.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Mark says with a warm smile, drawing my gaze to his. “This place is really nice, Brock.”

I choke back the emotions threatening to destroy me and return his smile. “They make killer food. This Italian princess over here loves it.”

Amber taps me in my ribs with her elbow, an embarrassed shake of her head following suit. The waiter comes over and we all order some appetizers.

After he’s departed my father strikes up the first conversation of the evening. “So, Amber, what are you studying?”

“I’m majoring in psychology,” she replies.

“Why
that
field?” My mother inhales a hearty sip of wine, her venomous glare pounding into my girlfriend as she places her glass on the table.

“I grew up under really bad circumstances, and now that I’ve
somewhat
found a way out, I want to help others like me.”

My mother’s brows raise. “And what difference do
you
think you
can make to people who’ve experienced
real
tragedy? Sometimes you can’t help those who’ve lost everything.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Amber states, her voice thoughtful though her eyes are anything but. They’re narrowed, a snake ready to attack. “You have to want help in order for it to work. I’m sure there are plenty of people who want their lives to be different.” She pauses, her attention unwavering from my mother’s. “Coming from someone who’s seen, felt, and tasted
real
tragedy, I know I want my life to change for the better. Sometimes it’s just hard to accept help from those who’ve never been through anything themselves. Hence my wanting to guide others like me toward a mentally healthy existence.”

My mother lets out an exhausted sigh, her eyes rolling as she finishes off the wine lingering at the bottom of her glass.

“I think that’s great, Amber,” Brittany chirps, breaking the tension starting to thicken the air. “Helping people in need is a noteworthy job.”

“Agreed,” my dad concurs. “And what else do you do besides school? Are you working?”

Amber sits back, ease covering her posture. “Yes. I pull a few waitressing shifts a week at a seafood restaurant down in Riva.”

“And she makes good grades too.” Cathy’s warm voice reaches across the table. “You’re working, going to school, doing all the right things for your future. Mark and I are
so
proud of you.”

Amber smiles, her face flushing from the compliment.

Intent on adding to her noticeable embarrassment, I feather a finger over the arch of her cheek. “Yeah, she’s a great girl. I’m one lucky man.” Amber turns toward me, her eyes heating by the second. “Not only is she smart and responsible as all hell, she’s also
ridiculously
cute.”

A full flush runs the path of her skin, her lips twitching in a soft smile as she clears her throat. “You’ve raised a
very
smooth talker, Mr. Cunningham. He’s never short on strategically timed endearments.”

My father nods at Amber, seemingly amused by her statement. “Oh, he’s a very smooth talker. There’s
little
doubt about that.” His
eyes flash to mine, clearly insinuating just how smooth I must be to have snowed these people into thinking I was a decent human being.

I look down at my drink, effectively put in place by the self-righteous asshole. Lucky for me, Cathy and Mark don’t pick up on his little dig and continue to chatter away with Amber and Brit about the local touristy shit they want to check out.

I just wanna check the fuck outta here.

We’re interrupted when a waiter enters the room with appetizers in hand. Drinks are refilled, dinner orders taken. It’s in this moment I realize that Amber’s a natural around undercover lunatics, her face glowing with a comfortable easiness I have yet to see—one I can’t wait to be a part of. In the midst of watching my girl in action, I catch Mark striking up a conversation with my dad regarding what he does for a living. My father’s more than happy to tell him how fucking awesome he is, going on and on about the several back-pat-worthy achievements the self-appointed imperial asshole’s tackled throughout his lifetime.

Sickened by how high he is on himself, I finish off my whiskey in one large swallow, hoping to catch a decent buzz. A buzz strong enough to help get me through the rest of this night. Inwardly cringing, I yank my attention away from the blue-suited dick, only to have it land on his “better half.” Another cringe as I lace my fingers through Amber’s, trying to ignore my mother’s hateful stare pinning me to my seat. As long as she keeps her mouth shut, I couldn’t give a fuck how she looks at me. Still, I fidget in my chair under her silent scrutiny, unable to keep my mind from drifting off to the decent days we spent together before our lives fell apart, before my careless act changed what the future of my family was supposed to become.

Nervous movements catching his attention, Mark turns to me with a wide smile. “Amber tells us you’re quite the football star. How’s that working out for you?”

My stomach clenches at the topic as my eyes shift to my father. His face is sealed to mine, the dip in his brows showing he’s eagerly
awaiting my response. I release Amber’s hand and tighten a fist under the table, knowing I haven’t been that dedicated to the sport the last couple of weeks.

“I don’t know about all that,” I answer with a chuckle, trying to keep my tone light. “It’s been a good season, though. We’ve had a couple scouts come by the field to watch us play. So who knows, right?”

My father’s expression betrays the calm soothing his voice. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says, pretending to not even register Mark’s start of a reply. “However, a business associate, whose son also plays for Hadley, informed me that you’ve missed several practices the last couple of weeks. I hope you have a decent excuse for that.”

“Of course he does.” My mother snorts, tipping her glass to her lips. “This is
Brock
we’re talking about, John.”

Amber butts in by clearing her throat, her words spoken sharp. “He was sick with the flu, Mr. Cunningham.
That’s
why he’s missed a few practices.” The lie drips easily from her mouth, the situation starting to make my pulse pound as I look at her. I wasn’t sick and Amber knows it. Truth is, I had something come up and, in my line of work, that happens more often than not. Being that my coaches rarely give me shit about it—the two former potheads letting my and Ryder’s dirty piss tests slide by—I don’t know why my father feels the need to bring it up.