Come to Me Recklessly (8 page)

Jared clicked the fob to his truck. The running lights flashed in the driveway and the locks popped. Climbing in, we slammed the doors shut in unison, the overhead lights dimming slowly, leaving the two of us sitting in a charged silence, staring out the windshield.

“Sorry, man,” he finally said, slanting his gaze in my direction. “That was messed up. Should’ve said something, but really, I didn’t think it would matter all that much.”

I shrugged, grunted. “It doesn’t.”

Low, disbelieving laughter rumbled from him, and his mouth twisted up in a wry smile. “Really? Sure doesn’t look that way to me.”

“Just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“Right.”
Sarcasm dripped from the word, laced with an undertone of sympathy. “I don’t think I’ve seen you so spun up since the night you found me with your sister. And we all know how that ended.”

I shot him a warning glare. “Fuck you, man. Don’t even start on me. I don’t need your two cents when it isn’t welcome.”

Releasing a low chuckle, he turned over the ignition, and his giant truck rumbled to life. He dug for the stash of gum he kept in the door side pocket and stuffed a piece into his mouth. Dude had gone and given up his bike the day he married my sister, crumbled up his last pack of cigarettes the day Ella was born. Guess he realized he had something to live for, after all.

“Funny, ’cause you never hesitated to give me yours when I didn’t ask for it.”

Somehow I managed a grin. “That’s because you were in dire need of it, my friend. Always going off the deep end, pulling all that emo crap on me. Figured it was on me to intervene.”

Jared had been through some major rough patches. We always gave each other a hard time, tearing each other down when in reality we were just building each other up. But not on the serious shit – not until now, when he could look at it all in a different light. I’d gotten into his business because I really fucking cared, wanted him to be better and to have a good life after all the shit he had gone through.

He flashed an almost challenging smile and backed out onto the street, turning down the path I knew she had taken. “So maybe it’s my turn to intervene.”

“Don’t need it, man. I’m just fine, so don’t you and my sister go and start scheming up any plans to rescue me, because I’m not in need of rescue, as much as she might think I am.”

Aly had been hounding me lately, making comments that it was time to settle down, that I needed to find someone who really made me happy. Apparently she thought that came in the form of her digging up my ghosts.

No, thank you, little sister
.

“So what brought you to our house in the first place?”

Blowing out a breath, I shrugged. “Nothin’ really. Kristen texted, offered to pick me up before we went out. Thought I’d stop by really quick and get a little taste of normal before I gave myself over to another night of debauchery.” I lifted a telling brow, and Jared just shook his head, because he knew exactly what a night of that entailed.

I should’ve known better than to bring Kristen there, though. That was stupid in itself. I didn’t like mixing my worlds, and I sure as hell didn’t want Ella growing up watching me parading one girl in just as quickly as I kicked another out.

Guilt throbbed deep in my chest.

That little girl didn’t need to witness that shit, didn’t need that kind of influence, and the last thing I wanted was for my niece to look at me in a negative light. But as strong as that need was, it hadn’t stopped the words from tumbling from my mouth when I’d suggested to Kristen that we stop by my sister’s really quick.

Fucking brilliant idea.
 

Jared headed out onto the main road toward my house. “You could have called.”

Even though his eyes were trained ahead, watching the road, I could still feel them searching me, all his questions perfectly posed to get inside my pounding head.

“Do I ever call?” I defended. “I do seem to recall the two of you saying I was welcome anytime.”

He hefted out a regretful sigh. “Yeah, you are, and you’re always gonna be.” Silence fell between us, before he glanced toward me, then shifted his attention right back to the road. “Listen, I’m sorry for the way things went down. Bottom line, we should have said something, whether we thought it mattered or not. The fact that we had to think about it at all should have told us that what we were doing wasn’t cool.”

Jared pulled to a stop at the curb in front of my house. Headlights splayed out across the pavement ahead of us, and I looked to the side, where the face of my house was engulfed in darkness. Agitation curled through me, and I gripped the door handle, wanting to fucking run from here just as badly as I’d wanted to run from Aly’s house, knowing there wasn’t one place in this world where I’d find relief for what I was feeling tonight.

Seeing her had ripped those old wounds open wide, leaving me raw. Hearing about her brother?

That
killed
me.

I thought if just one good thing came out of it all, it was that Stewart was finally healthy, that he could live and Samantha could go on. Then maybe I could, too.

But I hadn’t. I’d gotten stuck in that moment, lost to that memory of how fucking bad it’d hurt when she’d looked at me that way. Like she was terrified of me. Like she didn’t recognize who I was. Then her words confirmed that she believed everything her parents had been spewing my way.

Maybe they’d been right all along.

But all I’d wanted was to prove to her that I was different.

“You okay?” Jared’s voice broke into my thoughts, and I shook my head, staring at my lap as I unlatched the door.

“Sure,” I said, knowing it sounded just as weak as I felt, and I forced myself from his truck and into the dark.

Overhead light poured down on his face, and I watched as Jared’s brow knitted, concern forming a line between his eyes as he looked across at me standing in the open door.

Without a word, I shut it, dragging my feet as I headed for my front door. Jared’s engine rumbled as he shifted into gear, seemingly reluctant when he finally drove away.

Inside my little house, I flicked on the light to the main living area. My place was nice, the space decorated in blacks and grays and reds by my mom and my sister, who’d clearly hoped to make it some kind of upscale bachelor pad that still felt cozy and homey.

But I was pretty sure one person couldn’t make a home.

Tonight, that loneliness screamed back at me, a crude reminder that I was wholly and utterly alone. It didn’t matter how many friends I had or how many girls I took to my bed.

And it was my fault. I knew it. Accepted responsibility for it. But that didn’t mean it didn’t suck.

I went straight for the updated kitchen. Speckled green-and-black granite graced the countertops, compliments of the new business. The appliances were also new and sleek and for the most part unused. I opened the top cabinet, rummaged around for the bottle of Patrón I had stashed there. I fumbled for a shot glass, filled it to the brim, and tossed it back.

The amber liquid burned a roiling path down my throat, hitting my raw stomach like a fiery stone. Another roll of nausea writhed in my gut.

I felt sick.

Unsettled.

Unsound.

Because everything was wrong.

I slammed another four shots. Taking in deep, even breaths, I braced my hands on the counter and dropped my head between my arms, forcing the alcohol to stay down, before I hauled myself up long enough to stumble down the hall. I flung myself face-first onto my unmade bed, the gray and black and red theme from the living room duplicated here.

In my darkened room, memories spun and spiraled, and as hard as I fought to keep them away, they firmly took root in the forefront of my mind. Tonight, there was no hiding from the expression that had haunted me for years, when every hope I’d ever had for us was erased in the desperation of one incoherent second. When I’d pushed too far and Samantha had cut me loose.

It was the first time I’d truly hated myself, the moment I made Samantha cry, after I’d promised her again and again that I wanted to be the one to dry her tears, to hold her up when she was falling apart. I’d wanted her to need me just as badly as I’d needed her.

But just like her parents had said, like what that asshole Ben had said, I couldn’t live up to it, couldn’t ever be good enough – even when every piece of me wanted to be.

Wrapping myself around a pillow, I pulled in a deep breath. I could still smell her. All that sweet innocence filled up the well of my lungs. Immediately I was assailed by that picture from earlier tonight, that perfectly wretched instant when her mouth had parted when I’d traced along her jaw, like she was silently begging me to give in to what I so desperately wanted.

I squeezed my eyes tighter.

That mouth.

Every sick part of me had sought out the feel of it through an endless string of girls, hoping just one of them would make me feel an ounce of what a mere brush of hers did. A physical replacement for the hole Samantha had gouged out right at the center of my chest, a festering pool feeding the asshole I’d let myself become.

But that had always been the problem.

With Samantha, it had never been just physical.

Soft moonlight filtered through the trees. Above, a gentle, cool breeze rustled through the branches, and the limbs lightly scratched along the eves of Samantha’s slumbering house. Inside, all the windows were darkened, shadows playing across the walls where I knew she slept.

Like I was drawn, I edged forward, my heart racing and my insides curling.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake her. And God knew, I’d been trying.

Samantha wasn’t close to being my type.

She was too shy. Too sweet. Too good.

I always went for easy and the promise of a good time.

Not for complicated and complex, not for someone who came with worry and concern and effort.

Yet here I was, making an
effort
.

In the dark, I dug the toe of my tattered-up Vans shoe into the desert floor. When I unearthed a tiny rock, I leaned down and picked it up. Running the smooth, small pebble between the pads of my fingers, I hesitated, searching inside myself for some kind of resolve, for a measure of courage – the courage to just go and leave this innocent girl alone.

Funny, it was the first time in a long time that I’d had the urge to do the honorable thing. The crazy thing was, I wasn’t quite sure what that meant – walking away or moving forward.

Somewhere deep inside of me, a foreign feeling fluttered in protest.

Moving forward felt like the only option.

Sucking in a breath, I flicked the rock. It pinged against her windowpane before it ricocheted back and skittered along the dirt. Impatiently, I waited, shifting my feet as I yanked at my unruly black hair.

God.
 

What was I doing?

Whatever it was, I couldn’t stop.

Patience wasn’t exactly my strong suit, so when there was no movement after thirty seconds, I grabbed another stone and tossed it at her window. This time a little harder than the last.

The anxious breath I was holding blew from my lungs when the drapes suddenly parted at the side. Moonlight glinted against the glass, and I could barely make out the subdued lines of her silhouette as she squinted out into the night. Taking two steps forward, I slowly revealed myself, locking eyes with the girl I couldn’t get off my mind.

What it was about her, I didn’t know.

So maybe patience wasn’t my forte. But confidence? I wore it around like a second skin, though even I was wise enough to know that arrogant way came with the assurance that I really didn’t have all that much to lose.

When not a whole lot matters to you, the chances you take come with little risk.

Somehow tonight, standing there, watching her in the thick silence of the night sky, I knew I was putting myself on the line.

Everywhere inside of me, I knew it
mattered
.

My chest tightened, and I clenched my fists at my sides and tried to make sense of this girl. One I shouldn’t be giving a second thought to, but instead, she seemed to be taking up residence in every single one.

Samantha’s window screeched when she cracked it an inch. Cringing, she slowed, carefully pushing it open the rest of the way. She braced herself on the ledge, her blond hair falling around her face and brushing down over the spaghetti straps of the white tank top she wore.

Desire curled in my stomach and I bit back a groan.

Fuuuck.
 

She was so sexy it physically hurt.

“What are you doing here?” she asked on a hard whisper, obviously straining to focus on me.

In a helpless shrug, I lifted my hands out in front of me. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Speculation and worry narrowed her blue eyes. Still, there was no mistaking the flare of excitement that blazed in their depths at finding me.

“Are you crazy? You’re going to get me in trouble,” she hissed quietly, though she was chewing at the hint of a smile on that pretty little mouth.

And that’s really what I wanted. To kiss her. To see if that perfect mouth that reminded me of a silky red Christmas bow made of candy could possibly feel as good – taste as good – as I imagined it would.

Ha.
Get her in trouble?

Without a doubt, I was the one who was in trouble.

Deep trouble.

I kept my footsteps light as I closed the distance, stopping less than a foot away from her open window. I yanked at her hand, making her gasp and lurch forward. When I placed her palm flat across my thundering chest, I wondered if she could feel the turmoil she’d spun up inside of me.

I fought off all the intense feelings and instead quirked her a flirty grin, that same half smirk with a wry flash of teeth that always won me what I wanted.

And what I wanted was her.

I pressed her hand closer, the heat of her palm burning me through. “Crazy for you.”

A rush of redness blossomed on the snowy flesh of Samantha’s neck, flaring hot as it headed north and flooded her cheeks. Still, she rolled her eyes and attempted to yank her hand away.

Silly girl. I wasn’t about to let her go.

“Cheesy words aren’t going to win me over, Christopher.”

“Then what
will
win you over?”

I’d been chasing her for the last two weeks and I couldn’t seem to catch her. Ever since the day I’d intervened in the altercation between her and Jasmine. It wasn’t as if I wouldn’t have broken it up anyway, even if Jasmine’s vitriol hadn’t been aimed at the same girl who stirred up something foreign inside of me every time she breezed by, the mere passing of her presence like she was washing me in something good when I always seemed to be delving into the bad.

Jasmine was a bitch. Through and through. Not for a second did I mind putting the slut in her place. I did it happily and with a huge-ass grin on my face.

What I’d been unprepared for was the surge of protectiveness that had shot through me when I’d rolled into the hallway and found Samantha backed into a corner. The welling of possessiveness that filled up all the dead space inside me the second I’d tucked her against my side.

Still, it didn’t matter what I did or what kind of move I made. Samantha was skittish to the extreme. Shy and strong. And apparently that combo didn’t work so well for a guy like me. In what’d seemed like some sort of miracle, I’d convinced her to sit with me twice at lunch, and once she’d gone as far as letting me walk her home from school. But even then she’d been distant, all on guard, with a fortified ten-foot wall barricading her, like she was pretty sure all of my motives were ulterior and she was determined to shut me out.

Probably showing up at her house in the middle of the night wouldn’t convince her otherwise. But hey, a guy had to try.

She frowned. “What are you really doing here, Christopher?”

I dropped the facade, because around her, I couldn’t seem to front it. My voice lowered in sincerity. “I just wanted to see you. That’s it.”

Her frown deepened, but it seemed more in confusion than anything else. “Why, Christopher? Why me?”

“Because I like you,” I chanced, going for honest, because I realized I didn’t have all that much more to give.

She hesitated before she huffed out a breath of surrender. “Hold on a second.”

She disappeared behind the drape. A sharp, short gust of wind sent it billowing into her room, stretching out, like it was seeking her in the same way I was.

Relief hit me hard when she popped up, now wearing a black tank top over the flimsy piece of material she’d been sporting earlier, the white straps still peeking out from under the scoop neck. She hoisted herself up and over the windowsill, a second’s distress tripping her up when she landed on her feet on the ground. She glanced behind her, then warily back to me.

“My dad’s gonna kill you if he finds you out here with me.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

“You haven’t met my dad.”

Grabbing her hand, I hauled her back through her front yard and onto the sidewalk, getting her away from the possibility of prying eyes, all the while relishing the feel of her hand in mine. I gave it a squeeze. “No, you’re right, I haven’t, because you haven’t invited me over.” I gave her a teasing hard look. “Maybe we should fix that.”

She barked out a laugh, then clamped her free hand over her mouth, her blue eyes going wide. She jerked her attention back over her shoulder and toward her house, looking for any sort of movement her outburst had stirred within. She turned back to me, those stormy eyes going wild, as if she couldn’t believe for one second she’d just pulled this stunt, couldn’t believe she was getting away with it, couldn’t believe she was out here with me.

Guess I was pretty surprised myself. Part of me expected her to tell me to get lost.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I urged, breaking into a run, dragging her behind me. At the end of her street, Samantha started laughing. This uncontained, near-hysterical sound that bubbled up from her stomach, only to grow as it was freed.

Like maybe something inside of Samantha had been freed.

“Oh my gosh…” She bit down on the soft flesh of her bottom lip, the biggest smile bursting from under it. “You really are crazy.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“It’s not like I’m whisking you off to elope or somethin’.”

She laughed again. This time it wasn’t so carefree. “Oh, this is worse… way worse. Me sneaking out in the middle of the night with a boy?” She shuddered. “You don’t even know.”

“Then tell me.”

Mellowing, she leaned into my arm as we walked under the cover of night. We rounded the corner and headed up the next street. All the while I kept her hand secured in mine. “I’m not even allowed to date, Christopher. If I got caught sneaking out with you? I’d probably be grounded for the rest of my life.”

“You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

“Nope.” She peered up at me, and the moonlight lit up her face in a way that made my breath get locked up right in the center of my throat.

God. She was pretty. Beautiful, really, because I was coming to understand the difference. Beauty radiated, and it was surrounding her like some kind of halo of light.

“Don’t you already know that, though?… The stuff those girls say about me?” There was both sadness and defiance in it, the way her voice hardened the slightest fraction as she slowed.

“I don’t listen to a word that pack of bitches say, Samantha. Not. A. Word. You shouldn’t, either, because everything that comes out of their ignorant mouths is nothin’ but bullshit and lies.”

She flinched at the harshness of my tone before she settled her weight a little deeper into my arm, like maybe she found some sort of comfort in the outright hate I felt for all of them.

Especially Jasmine. Should’ve known better than to have gotten mixed up with her.

“Whether they’re right or not, that doesn’t change who I am,” she emphasized, so clearly trying to convey something to me, something that was already so obvious.

“Think I already have a pretty good handle on who you are, Samantha.”

“Do you?” She looked to the ground, letting me guide her across the street and into the family park that took up the space between our two neighborhoods. Here, the grass grew thick, and tall, lush trees lined the lot, all of it well kept, mowed and shaped right up to the sand that filled in the playground.

Not a soul was around, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been dying to get her alone.

And not for the reasons I knew everyone would place over my head like some kind of presumed verdict. I wasn’t half as bad as everyone chalked me up to be, but I didn’t waste my time trying to deny it, because God knew I was guilty of the other half.

We stopped at the fringe of the playground. Samantha gravitated to me, coming to face me, her expression shifting so fast I couldn’t latch onto one emotion. I lifted our hands between us. Samantha gasped and I felt her pulse pick up when I pinned them between our chests.

I tilted my head, searching the intensity in those sincere blue eyes. “I know you’re supersmart. I know you’re sweet and kind. I know you’d go to the end of the earth to protect and defend your family, because I’ve seen it myself.”

With my free hand, I rubbed my thumb along the hollow beneath her eye, and her mouth parted on a sigh as I stared down at this girl who was undoing something inside of me. “I know you’re sad.”

I saw it there. There was no missing it. And fuck if it didn’t make me sad, too.

A choked sound strained in her throat, and she reached up and wrapped her hand around my wrist, like she couldn’t allow me to get any closer but she refused to let me go. “I am,” she admitted through a pained whisper. “So sad.”

“Your brother?”

I knew all about that. The whole school did. We might live in a big city, but that didn’t mean the gossip didn’t fly here just as fast as it did in some small-time town.

She nodded. “I can’t stand it, Christopher. Seeing him that way. Hurting and scared. It kills me.”

Emotion ran hard and fast in my veins. I pulled her into my arms, her face buried in my chest while I just held her. I pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t say anything, just pulled away, and I knew she was warring with something inside of herself when she kept her attention on me as she slowly wandered around the playground. She ran her fingers over the metal chains of the swings, pitching them in a slight sway. The whole time I stared at her, wondering just how hard and fast this girl could cause me to fall.

At the last swing in the row of four, she took hold of both chains, her face framed in them as she pinned her honest gaze on me from across the lot. “You scare me, Christopher.”

“Why?”

Rough laughter ripped from her, and she dropped her head, shaking it, before she cut her stare back up at me. “Because I don’t know how to handle someone like you. More than that, I don’t want to be one of those girls.”

I didn’t want her to be, either.

Didn’t she get that?

“You could
never
be one of those girls, Samantha. I promise you that. I just want to be with you. And yeah, I know I have a reputation, but that doesn’t mean I earned all of it.”