The Moment We Began (A Fairhope New Adult Romance) (7 page)

But I can’t stop myself. This night is like
a rollercoaster. It started out bumpy, but once I got over that first
hill and decided to make the most of it, I’ve been in a free
fall toward disaster.

I grip my most recent drink in my hand, focusing
on the feel of the cold glass against my skin.

“Have you ever been to Munich?”

I blink, forcing my attention back to Braxton.
“What?”

“Munich?” he asks, putting his hand on
my knee and moving it up and down my leg. “Oktoberfest. I go
every fall. You should come with me this year. I’m renting a
house with a few buddies of mine, but I’ll have my own room.”

It takes me a second to realize he’s
actually talking about a future with me. Or at least sex. Flying
across the deep blue sea and staying in his room with him.

I have no idea what to say to that. I guess
there’s a possibility I misjudged him or that if I give him a
real chance, he’ll surprise me more and more. But the truth is
I can’t see a future with this guy. I just wanted to kiss him
for a while. Is that so wrong?

“What do you say?” he asks. “Do
you think you would want to go?”

I look down at my shoes, and that’s when I
realize there’s an extra pair of feet standing to my right. I
look up and see Mason standing beside us.

“Hi,” I say. I’m clutching the
cold glass even tighter now, begging my stomach to stop turning.

“Hey,” he says. “I didn’t
realize you were bringing a date tonight.”

“Mason, meet Braxton the genius med
student,” I say, waving my hand between them. “Braxton,
meet Mason the guy who keeps breaking my heart.”

Oh shit.

I don’t know why I said that, but the second
the words came out of me, I wanted to stuff them back inside.

“What?” Braxton asks. He takes his
hand from my leg.

The music is still playing, but I feel like it’s
one of those moments where everything else should have gone silent.
Like in an old western when the big bad walks in the room and
everyone stops to look.

Mason closes his hand around my upper arm and my
body pulses at his touch. “Can I talk to you in private for a
minute, please?”

I want to say no, but I can never say no to him.
He lets go of my arm and takes a step back, and all I want is to feel
his touch on my skin again.

“I’ll be back,” I tell Braxton.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks,
standing. He places himself a little between me and Mason, as if he’s
protecting me. “We can just go somewhere else if you don’t
want to talk to this guy.”

“Stay the hell out of this,” Mason
says. “I’ve known Penny a lot longer than you have, so
don’t offer to sweep her away like you’re some kind of
knight in shining armor here to save the day. I just want to talk to
her.”

“You’re right,” Braxton says. He
steps even more between us. He’s a little bit taller than
Mason, but there’s no doubt Mason’s stronger. “I
don’t know your history, but until you walked in the door,
Penny and I were having a great time tonight. I don’t want you
ruining that or upsetting her.”

“You need to take a step back before you get
your ass beat,” Mason says. He clenches his fists and the
muscles in his arms ripple.

I come around Braxton and stand between them.
“Just give us a minute.”

I grab Mason’s hand and pull him toward the
front door. He doesn’t take his eyes off Braxton until the door
closes and we’re standing outside alone. I’ve seen Mason
fight before, and I know it would not have ended well for Braxton
tonight.

“What is your problem?” I say. The
alcohol is making my thoughts fuzzy. I put my hand on Mason’s
chest and push him back.

He comes right back at me, but doesn’t touch
me. He just gets close enough that I can smell the heady scent of his
cologne. I’ve buried my head in that scent so many times, it
sends an electric shiver down my spine.

“My problem? You’re the one who’s
draped all over some stranger one minute, then telling everyone I
broke your heart the next,” he says. “Why would you say
that?”

“Because it’s true,” I say. “And
you know it.”

“Doesn’t mean I want all our friends
to know it,” he says. “We agreed to keep those things
between us.”

“No, you insisted we keep everything a
secret,” I shout. “That was never my idea. That was never
what I wanted.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”
Mason lifts his hand in the air. “Until last week on the boat,
I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I was honest with you
from the start, Penny. I’m not the kind of guy—”

“Not the kind of guy who falls in love,”
I say, finishing his sentence for him. “You’ve made that
abundantly clear.”

“Then you have no right to go around telling
people I broke your heart,” he says. “I warned you not to
give me your heart in the first place.”

“By then it was too late,” I shout. “I
loved you long before that first night on the boat.”

Tears of anger and frustration roll down my face.
I didn’t expect to end up out here arguing with him tonight. I
wanted to look happy and carefree. I wanted him to know I was over
him. Instead, I’ve just managed to make an even bigger fool of
myself.

He steps toward me and puts one hand on my cheek,
then tilts my face up toward his.

“I didn’t know,” he says.

I stare up into his eyes. “Yes you did.”

Mason leans toward me and I’m helpless to do
anything but lift up to meet him.

His warm lips cover mine and I am gone.

This is nothing like Braxton’s kiss. No,
this kiss is an explosion. A symphony. A match that ignites an even
stronger fire within.

I lift my arms around his neck and press against
him. The world around me spins and pitches, but as long as he’s
kissing me, I have an anchor.

He walks me backward until the back of my legs
bump against the front of his car. He leans me back against it, the
hood bending a little underneath me as he presses his weight against
my body. I wrap a leg around him, pull him closer. I lift my hips and
he grows hard against me.

He groans and leans his head back. I kiss his neck
and run my hands along his arms, his back, his stomach.

He pulls away, then reaches down and grabs both my
hands in his and lifts them over my head, pressing them against the
hood of the car. I stare up at him, my breath coming in short gasps.
My chest rises and falls rapidly and the place where I feel him
against me pulses with need.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know why
I can’t just walk away from you,” he says.

I clasp his hands tighter. “Maybe it’s
because you’re supposed to be walking toward me,” I say.

He searches my eyes and for a moment, I think he’s
going to kiss me again. To let in the possibility of love between us.

But whatever keeps pulling him away from me grabs
hold and yanks him backward. He releases my hands and punches the
hood of the car.

I feel him slipping away as he stands.

“I can’t be with you, Penny,” he
says. “I don’t know how to make you understand that.”

I don’t know why I do it, but with a quick
movement of my wrist, I dip my hand into his pocket and pull out his
car keys. I’m so angry and hurt. So tired of this game.

Before he can grab me, I have the car door open. I
slip inside and slam the door closed. Mason lunges toward me, yanking
at the handle on the door just as I press the button to lock the
doors.

He’s too late.

I slide the key into the ignition and rev the
engine.

He’s never let me drive his car before, but
just like mine, this car wants to go fast.

“Penny, stop,” he shouts. He bangs on
the window with both hands, but I barely glance up.

My heart is racing. I’m in no condition to
drive, but I’m also in no condition to stop myself. I put the
car in gear and press hard on the gas. The tires squeal and the car
bursts forward. I go straight over the curb, the car bouncing and
lurching to the side.

I hit the brakes and stare ahead, lining the wheel
up with the lines on the road.

Adrenaline surges through me and I press my foot
down on the gas again, accelerating fast on the straight-away, then
braking and turning the wheel hard to the right. I turn onto Broad
Street and punch it again.

It’s the third turn that gets me. I don’t
slow down enough and pull the wheel too far. Too fast.

My heart skips as I feel the tires slide across
the road, then catch, then let go.

I scream as the car rolls over. My head slams into
the seat, then jerks toward the window.

Then the world goes black.

Lights flash and people shout.

My eyes flutter open. A piercing pain explodes
near my temple, and I moan and try to lift my hand. But I can’t
move my arms.

Panic shoots through me and when my eyes focus on
what’s happening around me, I see that my arms are strapped
down on a gurney, a needle stuck through my arm.

I let my head fall back and my eyes close again.
Nausea rolls over me, sending me twisting and tumbling through the
darkness in my head. Sounds are muffled and when I swallow, my throat
is dry as a bone. I’m lifted, then jerked forward.

Behind me, I think I hear Mason’s voice, but
maybe I’m dreaming.

Maybe I’m dying.

My eyes open again, and I see tight white walls
and a man in uniform peering over me. He shines a light into my eyes,
then shouts something to a person behind me.

Doors slam shut and a siren wails as the ambulance
begins to move.

Someone takes my hand, and I look over to see the
wide, worried eyes of my twin brother.

“Preston,” I say, but my voice is
raspy and harsh. An involuntary sob escapes from my mouth and my
breath hitches. Tears well up in my eyes and roll down the side of my
face and into my hair.

He leans forward. “You’re going to be
okay,” he says. “I’m here, Penny. It’s going
to be alright.”

I concentrate on the sound of his voice and the
feel of his strong hand on mine. I stare at the ceiling of the
ambulance, but don’t really see it. I can’t seem to stop
my jaw from trembling.

When we get to the hospital, the gurney I’m
on bumps and jerks, then glides as they roll me toward one of the
rooms. Preston runs beside me, never letting go of my hand. I keep my
eyes on his face as the doctors examine me, poking and prodding and
taking blood. There’s a rush of activity in the room for a
while, but I don’t listen to anything they’re saying. I
just watch my brother’s face and know that as long as he’s
still in here, everything is going to be okay. If I was dying, they’d
send him away, right?

Someone dabs cold liquid on a spot on my jaw and I
wince.

I feel like I’m going to throw up. I squeeze
Preston’s hand harder, every muscle in my body tense with pain
and sickness.

I’m glad he’s not yelling at me. Or
telling me how stupid I am. As time passes and the shock wears off,
the consequences of what I’ve done start to bring up an
entirely new kind of fear.

I might be lucky the accident didn’t kill
me, but I’m going to be even luckier if my parents don’t
come in here and finish the job.

And oh god, Mason’s car. I close my eyes,
the tears coming harder now.

I have no idea what happens to someone who is
drinking and totals their car. Am I going to go to jail?

There’s nothing about this that’s
going to end well for me. What the fuck was I thinking? I don’t
even know. I hardly remember taking Mason’s keys, just that one
minute he was kissing me and the next, I was speeding away. I didn’t
even make it that far.

Slowly, the piercing pains turn to a dull
throbbing.

Preston strokes my hair as I cry, and gradually,
mercifully, I finally fall asleep.

The door to my room sails open and I jerk awake,
the sudden motion sending a fresh wave of pain through my sore body.

My father storms through the door, his face filled
with rage and worry.

Mom follows him inside. Her eyes are ringed with
red and her hair is a wild mess. I’ve never seen her in public
looking like this. She must have gotten out of bed and threw on
whatever was closest without even bothering to brush her hair.

Guilt presses against my chest. They had to have
been scared to death to get that call so late at night.

Preston stands, and for the first time in hours,
he lets go of my hand and steps away.

I struggle to sit up straighter.

Mom rushes to my side and pulls me into a hug.
“Thank god you’re okay,” she says, her hand on the
back of my head. She presses her cheek to my uninjured side and I
feel the wetness of tears on her face.

“What in the hell were you thinking?”
My dad’s voice booms across the room. He comes to stand on the
other side of my bed, his large hands gripping the bed-rail.

I lean back against the pillow and feel the tears
starting up all over again.

Mom rubs her hand along my forearm. “You
scared us out of our minds,” she says. “What happened?
The doctor told us you’d been drinking.”

They look at me, expecting answers. I don’t
even know what to say. I’m an emotional wreck, and I have no
excuses for what I did. All I can do is find a spot on the wall and
stare.

“Your behavior has been out of control
lately,” Dad says. “But this? This is completely over the
line. I won’t have a daughter of mine drinking and driving like
some lunatic. Do you realize you could have been killed tonight? Or
worse, you could have killed someone else? What if you’d hit
another car? Or a pedestrian? I can’t believe you would be so
stupid.”

I lean forward and bring my hands up over my face.
I don’t want them to see me.