Let Me Know (2 page)

Chapter One

Amber

I used to think there was no better place than home. I was wrong. There’s no better place than lying next to Marcus, naked, with nowhere to go for the next...

I roll over and check his alarm clock on the pile of textbooks by his bed, then groan. The midmorning sunlight pours through the slits in the blinds and nudges me further awake.

“Mornin’, Kitten,” a husky voice says behind me. Marcus plants a soft kiss on my right shoulder, the location of my lotus flower tattoo.

I shift around and burrow my face against his neck. My lips touch the soft skin and I breathe in his faint spicy scent. The smell I associate with feeling safe.

His injured arm rests against my waist. My version of heaven.

“Emma’s gonna be here in twenty minutes,” I murmur, my lips still against his neck.

He strokes my back, brushing against the hideous scars as if they don’t exist. “You don’t have to go. Stay. We can drive down together.” His voice drops to a sexy rumble, which is exactly why I can’t stay.

“Maybe if you weren’t taking your finals over the next few days.” I give him a quick kiss. “But you have to study and you can’t do that if you keep trying to—” another kiss “—convince me you study better in bed.” I look pointedly at his engineering textbook lying haphazardly on the floor, before looking back at him. “I’m not sure how having sex with me will help you do well on your exams.”

I’m still surprised we’re even able to have sex since he’s recovering from the gunshot wound. And even though he’s tried to convince me otherwise, I’m pretty sure “regular sex with your girlfriend” was not on his discharge orders.

Marcus flops back on the pillows. His eyes sparkle with life as his lips curve into a half smile. “Hey, if you can get an A on your math final...”

I punch him lightly on his good arm. “I didn’t get that ’cause I was having sex with you. I got it because Brittany helped me study and my math teacher’s a saint.”

After studying with Marcus for most of the semester so that I’d pass math, I’d walked out of the final in order to be with him in the hospital after his stepfather shot him. My professor contacted me the next day and after confirming my story, he offered to let me make up the exam the following afternoon.

“Anyway,” I continue, “as much as I’m gonna miss you and your math jokes, Emma and I need to spend time together before you join me.” I drape my arm over his hips and snuggle close, while pretending I don’t have to drag myself away from him anytime soon. While pretending the next few days won’t be tough for Emma and her family, and for me and mine.

It will be our first Christmas without Trent and Michael.

Marcus rolls on to his side again, and his injured arm, currently free of its sling, squeezes my waist. I’m so attuned to everything about him, I can’t help but notice his jaw muscle twitch. The movement is small, easy to miss by most. I trace my finger along the healing flesh, wishing my touch could whisk away his pain.

“Are you sure about me joining you?”

I lean over and kiss his jaw. “You’re not backing out of this.”
I
need you with me.
My lips trail along his unshaven jaw, his one-day growth teasing me as much as I’m teasing him. My mouth finds his and I tenderly kiss him, letting him know without words how much I need him. He’s not just my boyfriend—he’s one of my best friends. And one of the few people who understands what I’ve been through.

His lips part and I deepen the kiss, consuming him, tasting his very soul. My mind goes blank as to what I’m supposed to do this morning. As far as I’m concerned, the only place I need to be is here, kissing Marcus.

A muffled bang outside his room intrudes on our moment. With a level of willpower I didn’t realize I possessed, I reluctantly pull away. This time Marcus doesn’t protest.

I scoot off the bed and slip on my panties and his red T-shirt from the floor. The T-shirt I claimed for my own once I started staying here on a regular basis. The last thing I want is for Chase to accidentally see me naked while I walk to the bathroom.

Marcus pulls on his boxers and jeans. I help him secure his sling, fussing over him like he’s a child. He doesn’t seem to care. If anything, he enjoys it. From what I’ve learned about his childhood, he didn’t get much of that from his own mother. Until recently, he thought he was unworthy of someone’s love.

With a quick kiss on his cheek, I prove to him once again that he is worthy—something he still struggles to believe

Chase is in the living room setting up an...oversized carpeted tree? Everything about it is carpeted, including the green branches.

“You bought a scratching post?” I ask, taking in the array of cat toys scattered on the floor.

Chase doesn’t seem to notice that I’m standing here in nothing but Marcus’s T-shirt, which barely skims the top of my thighs. He gives us his usual goofy grin. “I wasn’t sure if Smoky has one, and this one looks cool.”

Marcus laughs. “Dude, don’t you think you went a little overboard, ’specially since Amber is
my
girlfriend?”

The smile wipes off Chase’s face. “I’ve always wanted a cat.” He glances around at the cat toys and shrugs. “Sorry, guess I did get a little carried away.”

I give him a one-armed hug. “Well, I think it’s sweet. And I’m sure Smoky will love it.”

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Great. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

I pull away from Chase. “Smoky already likes you.”

Marcus ensnares me in his good arm and kisses the top of my head. The arm captured in the sling is pressed between us, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. “I wasn’t talking about Smoky. I was referring to you.”

Chase laughs. “I think Amber’s already established she likes you. Or at least that’s the impression I got last night.”

My face heats up several degrees at the implication behind those words. Marcus grabs a pillow from the couch and hurls it at his best friend. Chase ducks and the pillow lands on the floor with a soft thud.

Chase is still chuckling as I hurry into the bathroom.

Marcus doesn’t follow me this time, which is just as well. If he did, I wouldn’t be ready to leave when Emma shows up.

A few body parts that remember our steamier showers together tingle at the memory. It’s amazing what that man can do, even with an injured shoulder.

The buzzer shrieks as I enter the living room, showered and ready to go. Chase answers it and Emma’s voice crackles through the intercom. He buzzes her into the building then heads to the bathroom.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Marcus pulls me into his good arm and we make up for the several days we’ll be apart. The kisses are sweet and tender. Anything more and I won’t be able to leave.

Chase turns on the shower, and the stream of water hammering the bathtub covers any sound escaping my lips as I tease Marcus with a few sexy noises I know drive him wild. His free arm slides down to my lower back and pulls me closer.

A loud knock startles us from our kiss. Marcus murmurs a curse against my lips and removes his hand from my back. I instantly miss the warmth of that hand, and wish we could have another hour alone before I have to leave. Even if it’s just to curl up on the couch and discuss our favorite TV shows or our plans for the day.

He lets Emma in. Like me, her long blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She’s wearing a soft pink ski jacket I haven’t seen before, which I suspect she bought in a pricier store than Marcus and I would ever shop in. Even her slim-fitting jeans proclaim “I love to shop.”

She hands me a brown paper bag with Five Point Café printed on it. “Here’s your special order.” The corners of her mouth creep up as she holds in her laugh. She knows it’s not for me, as much as I love their chicken noodle soup.

“I got something to help you remember me while I’m away,” I tell Marcus.

He takes the bag from me. Not a hint of curiosity marks his face. Laughter crinkles around his eyes. “You’re the best. You know that, right?”

“Hey, you ready?” Emma asks. Although she might be talking about the trip, I know what she’s really asking—am I ready to spend Christmas without Trent and Michael?

I give Marcus a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you in two days.”

With his gaze still on me, he says to Emma, “Drive carefully. You’ve got something that’s important to me.”

Emma giggles. “Yes, Mom.”

I could have driven home myself, but Emma and I have plenty of catching up to do, which we haven’t been able to start on since I took the first steps toward repairing our friendship two weeks ago. Schoolwork came first for both of us. Emma can’t risk her basketball scholarship, and I’m programmed to want perfect grades.

Marcus escorts us downstairs and helps load my suitcase into Emma’s trunk. In the side mirror, I watch his building grow smaller as Emma and I drive away. The vanilla-scented air freshener tries to push away the memory of his spicy scent, but I refuse to let it go.

“Reporters have been calling my parents about the psycho’s trial,” Emma says.

I take several deep breaths. I’m not looking forward to that part.

After my ordeal last spring, Mom kept the reporters at bay while I recovered in the hospital from my injuries. I’ve never been comfortable talking to them—or talking in public, period—even when I used to play varsity basketball. After what I went through with Paul, there was no way I could tell the media what happened. Not if it meant the horrific details of what I went through would be splashed across the page for all to see. Fortunately the cops kept quiet on certain details that were being saved for the trial.

But soon everything will become common knowledge. Every word Paul and I say on the stand could wind up front page news.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Emma shoots me a puzzled look. “For what?”

“For everything. For what Paul did and for the reporters.”

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing. You didn’t do anything, Amber. You’ve gotta stop apologizing for what everybody else does.”

The corner of her lips curl into a smirk though her eyes hold an edge of sadness. “When we were younger, Trent quickly figured out your habit of taking the blame for everything. Your brother knew it too. You made it too easy for them. You’re not responsible for what the psychopath did to them or to you, and you’re not responsible for the reporters. All they want is a story.”

“Have your parents talked to them?”

Emma nods. “They issued a statement that we’re looking forward to closure in Trent’s...” I can practically hear her throat close up. “In Trent’s murder. And the trial can’t come soon enough for us.”

Wish I could share those sentiments. I’m freaking over the trial and having to speak in front of everyone, and how everyone I know will find out details I’d rather keep secret. The only person I want there with me, other than my mom and grandma, is Marcus. I don’t want Emma and her family to hear everything Paul did to me, beyond what’s already public knowledge from the original news stories and the details I did share with her. Marcus knows. They don’t.

“Have they contacted you?” she asks.

“All questions have to be directed to the D.A,” I say, sounding like a spokesperson from the D.A.’s office.

“How come?”

“They don’t want me accidentally saying anything they’re saving for the trial, you know, to prove Paul’s guilt.”

Emma pulls her gaze from the road and narrows her eyes at me. The stark coldness in them causes me to shiver. “Why do you call that sick psychopath by his name?”

I look away, unable to take the pain in her eyes. “Because before I knew what he was, he was my friend.”

“And after everything he did to you?”

I shrug, the movement mechanical. “Habits are hard to break, I guess.” Even when he turned into the monster everyone knows him as, there were still moments when I thought my old friend would return and he would realize how much he was hurting me. It was in those rare moments when he did show compassion, doing things for me that under other circumstances would be considered sweet. Like bringing me my favorite magazines to read.

Emma nods slowly, as if reasoning her way through everything I said. “You mean like Stockholm Syndrome?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

We spend the rest of the trip singing along to the pop station as we drive along Interstate 80. Already I miss the classic rock station Marcus and I love listening to. That Trent loved listening to. Emma, not so much.

“Things between you and Marcus seem to be going well,” Emma says as we turn off the interstate and head along the main road toward our hometown. Considering her brother was my boyfriend, whom I loved, I’m surprised at how casual she sounds. There’s no pain in her voice, only curiosity.

A grin sneaks onto my face, despite my attempts to prevent it. Thinking about Marcus always has that effect on me. “They are. What about you and Liam?”

Her grin matches mine. “I like him. A lot. He knows how to make me smile. Something I’d almost forgotten how to do.”

Because of me
.

“Hey, can we stop at the mall first?” she asks. “I need to buy Liam a birthday present so I can mail it to him before the weekend.”

“Yeah, okay.” As long as we don’t bump into anyone I know.

Once we reach the mall parking lot, we drive up and down packed rows of cars, searching for an empty spot. We eventually find one in another time zone.

Emma scoots out of the car. I remain seated, frozen on the warm car seat for a minute, until I realize I can’t stay here forever. I can’t keep hiding.

The biggest benefit of living in Chicago is that most people have long since forgotten about the stalking and kidnapping. I’m not Amber, the victim. I’m a nameless face in the crowd, like everyone else. In Chicago, I can escape the sympathetic looks that were all too common after the firefighter found me in Paul’s burning building.

To the rest of the country I was the nameless teen. To everyone in Crossfields, I was Amber, the girl who had been raped and tortured. The girl no one knew what to make of. The girl who was stared at or whispered about like some kind of freak show.

And this trip appears to be no exception.