Relentless: A Bad Boy Romance (Bertoli Crime Family #1) (34 page)

My cellphone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out, seeing that it was Shawnie. Cursing silently to myself, I nodded quickly. "Okay. Here," I said before giving him the number. I didn't have time to argue with him. I didn't want to keep Shawnie waiting any longer than I had to. "Chris, I'd love to chat more, but this is a friend of mine, and I'm already late for a lunch appointment. Do you mind if I take off?"

"No, I understand," he said with a somewhat happy smile. "It was good to see you again."

He hopped on his bike and disappeared down the street while I answered Shawnie's call. "Yeah, babe, it's me. Yeah, I know. Hey, I fell asleep in a study chair. You know, that one that gets the morning sunlight. I'm just off campus now, maybe five minutes away? Yeah, go ahead and order," I said as I jogged across the street. "General Tso's Chicken for me. I'm serious, and yes, I know it totally makes me a hypocrite. But today I can use it. I'll tell you all about it when I get there. Thanks, Shawnie. Bye."

I turned back to see if I could still see Chris, but he had disappeared. I was confused, and more than ever, unsure of what the hell was going on. Chris looked handsome, that was for sure, but there was something in the way he'd talked to me . . . I just wasn't attracted to him anymore. Sure, five years ago when I was seventeen, maybe. But not anymore.

When I got to the restaurant, Shawnie was just pulling apart her set of chopsticks. "Hey, Abby, the food should be here any minute. So how was your nap?"

"Needed," I said honestly. Shawnie gave me a look of concern, and I nodded. "Yeah, I'm still not sleeping well."

"Even after the double spin classes you tried this past week?" she asked. "You could barely make your way up the stairs the last time I saw you."

I nodded. While I'd pushed myself to my limits physically and dropped into bed each night exhausted, that didn't mean that I was staying asleep or sleeping well. "Not even those. Why do you think I'm trying the chicken today? My legs are so damn sore that I figure the extra calories and protein can do nothing but help with recovery, if nothing else. I'll be honest with you, Shawnie. I'm scared. Our history final is tomorrow, and right now I couldn't tell you the difference between Napoleon Bonaparte and Napoleon Dynamite."

"So when are you going to give this guy a call back then?" Shawnie asked, cutting to the root of the issue in her normal direct fashion. "At least talk to him over the phone and then make your decision. You might be able to get some sleep tonight."

"And tomorrow's final?" I asked, confused. "What am I supposed to do about that?"

Shawnie laughed and leaned back. Our food arrived, and we tore into it like the starving people we were. I hadn't told her, but between the stress, the extra exercise and the lack of good sleep, I'd dropped nearly eight pounds in the past two weeks, and even Brittany, who had once joked with me that there was a kernel of truth in the old saying you could never be too rich or too thin, looked at me with concern. I could see it too, as my cheekbones were starting to be a bit too defined, and I'd gone from perky and cute to lean and drawn. A few more weeks of this, and I'd be at the stringy and emaciated stage.

“I’ve been thinking," I told Shawnie after I'd finished chewing on one of the spicy-sweet chunks of chicken, "and I think what you told me last time carries a lot of merit. But, Shawnie, what if the thing this guy did . . . well, what if it's a lot more serious? That guy you knew in high school, that's one thing. But to do what this guy did . . . well, are there crimes beyond forgiveness?"

Shawnie chewed on some of her own food, Kung Pao shrimp and vegetables, then took a sip of her tea. The restaurant, in a nod to the Southern culture in which it was located, offered both iced and traditional hot tea with its meals, although they had so far not bowed to the Southern convention of adding ridiculous amounts of sugar to all tea.

"That's something I think each person needs to answer for themselves," she eventually replied. "I can't speak for you, Abby, but from what I've seen from you, I think you need to talk to him either way. Can I ask—you don't need to answer or anything, but from the way you acted afterward . . . I take it that it was more than just a kiss or something?"

"God, yes," I immediately said, blushing. “A lot more.”

Shawnie nodded, then grinned. “It was that good, huh?"

I couldn't help it, I laughed. The humor helped. "You have no clue, Shawnie. Seriously, that man could do things that I never imagined."

"And your hang-up about him, is it because of that, or because of him?" she asked, springing her trap. It was part of the reason I liked her so much. She was willing to confront me, but always in a way that was for my own good. "I'm just saying, if you're having bad dreams and not sleeping because you need a good orgasm, I'll get you a battery-powered sleep aid for your graduation present. Rechargeable, even. But I think you're more authentic than that."

I couldn’t help but laugh, and it gave me something to think about. I took a sip of my tea, thinking. Shawnie and I worked our way through the rest of our meal when she took something out of her pocket. "Hey, I got a letter today."

"Oh?" I asked. "Who from?"

"Not who, but where," Shawnie said. "I got accepted for a full ride to Stanford for grad school."

I blinked, stunned. "Full ride? Really?"

Shawnie nodded, sighing. "Yeah. You remember that summer internship I did last summer, the one with the lab over in Texas?"

"Duh," I replied with a laugh. "Shawnie, you got to do a summer internship at the Johnson Space Center. What could be better for an engineering student?"

"Well, the guy I was working with there—I thought he was a total prick, but it turns out that he wrote a letter to the admissions people at Stanford. He's buddies with the head of the aeronautical engineering department there, and they've collaborated on some projects together. In any case, when my application went across his desk, the guy pushed for me. And by the conversation I had with the guy last night on the phone, if my first semester works out well, he'd be able to get me a paid TA position second-semester teaching freshman math too. It's not a lot, but it'd put cash in my pocket and totally eliminate the need for me to do a part-time job."

I whistled. "You must have really made an impression on the guy at Johnson."

"I guess I must have," Shawnie said with a chuckle. "I never would have thought it from the way he acted the whole time I was there."

"So what are you going to do?" I asked. "You know I've only applied to schools in the area. GT, Duke, UGA, stuff like that."

"I know," Shawnie said quietly. She looked at the letter, which she'd taken out of the envelope while we talked, then looked up at me. "Abby, you're my best friend, but this is too good to pass up. I mean, a paid Master's? Not too many girls from the Sandhills get a chance like that."

"Not to mention you'll be working with some of the best and brightest in the world, as well as being able to maybe score a job with the JPL, or maybe one of those aircraft manufacturers that you bent my ear about so much," I said. I reached across the table and took her hands. "If you want my advice, I want you to do it. I mean, of course I'll miss you, but we can still get together during summers, and besides, it'll give you motivation to make a plane fast enough that you and I can hang out on weekends or something."

Shawnie squeezed my fingers and lowered her head, blinking. "Thanks, Abby. I love you, girl.”

"I love you too, sweetie," I replied. My phone rang, and I took it out of my pocket. I looked at it, then I looked up at Shawnie. "It's him."

"Who?" she asked, momentarily having a vacant moment.

"You know . . . Dane.”

"Dane, so that's his name," she said while the phone rang. "So what are you going to do?"

I thought, my finger hovering between the green and red buttons. "Hell, you listened to my advice. I might as well follow yours," I said, jabbing the green button. "Hello?"

"Abby, it's Dane. Don't hang up."

I looked over at Shawnie, who gave me a supportive smile and sat back. "I won't hang up, Dane. But you need to talk fast, and talk well."

I heard Dane exhale on his end, and my heart went out to him. I'd been rejecting his calls for so long, he probably had little hope left that I'd have ever picked up. I wondered if his heart was in his throat like mine was, and if he was also torn in half between fear and happiness, although perhaps for different reasons.

"Abby, first of all, I want to apologize. You're right, there's a ton of things about my past that you don't know about. And maybe I should have told you. But I'll be honest in saying I just didn't know how. I need to see you. At least give me a chance to tell my side of the story. There's more to it than what you know. I'm not asking for redemption, but . . . I want to see if there is more between us than just one night. And most of all, I don't want you to think I'm a monster."

"Hold on," I said. I took the phone away from my ear and covered the mouthpiece. "He wants to meet. Not a date, just to talk."

"And what does your heart tell you?" Shawnie asked.

"To say yes," I replied. "But how should I set it up?"

"How about a coffee shop or someplace public? If you want, I can go with you."

I smiled in appreciation at her offer and nodded. Uncovering the mouthpiece, I took a deep breath. "All right, Dane, but it's where I want and on my terms, agreed?"

"Agreed," he said immediately, relief evident in his voice.

"Good. Then meet me at The Nook, on the edge of Piedmont Park. You know where that is, I assume?"

"Just down the street," Dane said eagerly. "What time should I meet you there?"

"You can meet
us
there at seven thirty. But Dane, if we don't see you by seven thirty-five, I'm walking out and blocking your number. Okay?"

"I'll be there," he said. He was so eager, he didn't even ask who the other person was. "Abby?"

"Yes, Dane?"

"Thank you. I'll see you tonight."

"Good-bye, Dane."

I hung up my phone, looking over at Shawnie. "So, what do you say to the two of us getting one more study session in on European History before I take you out for burgers and tots at The Nook?"

I
was
nervous standing outside the door to The Nook, even more nervous than at my court martial. The tavern wasn't too busy for a Tuesday night, but I'd still made sure to arrive five minutes early. I was wearing my best clothes short of a suit, which I still didn't own. Instead, I’d put on my best pressed-collared linen shirt, dark khaki dress pants, and my only set of dress shoes, slip-on black shoes that I'd polished not to a military-level shine, but still pretty good.

I looked down at myself and nearly slapped my head. I felt so stupid. The night I'd met Abby, I'd been wearing jeans and boots and a t-shirt underneath my hooded shirt. Now, I probably looked like a loser who was trying to look like something he wasn’t. “The worst that can happen is she says no. You've gotten plenty of that in your life."

Somewhat reassured, I entered the place, looking around for Abby's face. I panicked for a second after my first look didn't see anything, but then when I checked again, I saw what looked like a familiar face behind a burly-looking man at a corner table. She was seated with a friend, I guess, and I did a double take when I realized it was the same girl that Chris had his sights on back at Roundups.

I went over, her friend seeing me first. She leaned over, and Abby turned, finding me and raising her hand not so much in a wave as a signal that I had found the right table. I couldn't help it. My heart jumped in my chest when our eyes met, and it felt like at least a little bit of the weight that had been sitting on my shoulders since she'd run out of the apartment was gone.

"Abby . . .” I said, not sure how to continue when I reached the table. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her again, to feel the lips that I'd dreamed about for weeks. I wanted to whisk her away to a fantasy land that didn't exist outside of movies. Finally, I knew I had to say something. "It's good to see you. Can I sit down?"

Abby's eyes cut over to her friend, whose lips twitched in an amused smile. "Sit down, Dane. By the way, I'm Shawnie, Abby's friend."

"It's good to meet you," I said, offering my hand. We shook, and I was impressed with her grip. Most women in the South either wilt or give you a weird sort of grip that doesn't quite align properly with the way a man grips your hand, web of thumb to web of thumb, fingers wrapped properly. Most women give you some sort of three-quarter grip where their thumb ends up right about the base knuckle of your fingers, a half-inch short, with their own fingers in some sort of strange stiff pincer grip. Shawnie could shake hands correctly, and I was pleased with that at least. "So I guess you're the other part of
us
that Abby mentioned earlier?"

"I am," she answered playfully. "I get to play the silent muscle, or the Inquisitor, whichever is needed. Do you have any sins to confess?"

Her eyes were twinkling in good humor and her mouth was quirked in a half-grin, but it faltered when she saw my face and reaction. "I have more sins than I can think of counting," I said somberly. "But I promise you both, I won't hide any of them."

Abby nodded, and for the first time since that one special night, I saw a faint ghost of her smile. "Be careful, Dane. If you think I'm the sort of person who asks hard questions, Shawnie's a pit bull. You may be asked things that you aren't comfortable answering."

"I know. I've been thinking about that for the past six hours. Hell, in reality, I've been thinking about that for the past month. And I'm willing to do that," I said. A waitress came by and took our drink orders—Cokes all around. "You're probably wondering why."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Abby said. "Shawnie's been asking me that too. Why would a man be willing to even try explaining things to a girl who he has known for only one night? Why not just find another girl, one who doesn’t know and doesn’t care about what you did?”