Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (29 page)

“Why does she still text you?” Suspicion runs through me.

“Because we’re friends. We were friends before we became anything else.”

I don’t have a response. I nod my head and lie silently beside him while the voices in my head scream with questions.

“She’s in love with someone else and they’re having a baby together.”

“So if you hadn’t,” I can’t even say the word without cringing, “
fucked
Gina, you’d still be together.”

“No.” He shakes his head again. “Mia was like a little bird with a broken wing when we got together. I helped to fix her and knew she was going to fly someday. That is until I broke her again. What I did to her sent her back to a dark place.”

“Thank you for telling me about her.” I snuggle closely to his side and run my hand over the dog tag tattoo.

“You’d like her. You remind me of her in some ways.” A swift kiss is planted on the top of my damp hair. “Thank you for staying with me.”

I bite back the snarky remark I want to make about it being a social faux pas to tell the girl you just made love to that she reminds you of an old girlfriend. “Goodnight, Shane.”

He pulls me close and hums.

“By the way, I thought you said you had two rooms here.”

His body vibrates with a chuckle, “I do. It’s just piled floor to ceiling with storage boxes.”

“So only one bed?”

“Only one bed.”

I suppress the elation ready to burst at the seams as I squeeze him a little tighter. I stare at the American flag mounted on the wall until my eyes finally give way and sleep overtakes me.

Remy

AFTER SPENDING ALL
of Sunday afternoon and evening in his bed, letting our bodies get to know one another, I finally manage to get a few hours of sleep before the alarm wakes me Monday morning.

“Stay in bed a little longer,” Shane, sleepy-eyed and sexy as hell, pleads as I roll out of bed.

“I can’t. I have to make the train if I want to get to work on time.”

“I’ll drive you. Let me get up.”

I push against his broad bare shoulders, forcing him to lie back down as I quickly straddle him. “You don’t need to drive me. You need to go to work.” I nuzzle into his neck and inhale his natural scent. My hand floats above the hair that covers his chest until my fingers trace a delicate line down to his solid stomach. With ease, I widen my legs and reach to where the sheet is tented. I stroke his morning erection as it continues to grow. I grin as he watches me with lustful eyes.

“Oh God,” he groans, “can’t you be a little late for work today?”

“I
hate
being late.”

“But this is worth being late for.” He raises his hips, pushing me upward and hitting that sweet spot between my legs.

I stroke slowly, desperately wishing to give him what he’s asking for, but I can’t.

“I have to go,” I say with finality as I lean down and peck his lips with a goodbye kiss.

“But—”

“I’ll see you later tonight.” I dismount his body and listen as he groans his grievance against me.

“What am I going to do with you?” he growls.

“I don’t know.” I smirk, knowing I’d wish he could take me again as he did several times last night.

His voice drops to a sexy murmur. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.” The devious grin that accompanies his words makes me shiver with anticipation.

AFTER WORK, I
take the bus across the city. I debate whether or not I should wait for Simon. I haven’t returned any of his messages.

Long arms reach behind me, gripping me tightly at the waist, and pin me back against a tall figure. I startle and scream immediately, reacting with a swift elbow to the ribs and heel to the groin.

“Fuck!” the perpetrator howls out in pain. “Rem, chill!”

“What the hell are you doing? Why would you grab me like that?” My voice is filled with fear mingled with anger. I control my rapid breathing while my heart tries to resume its natural rhythm. “You know you can’t do that to me!”

“Sorry,” he throws his hands into the air with his palms facing out defensively. “Are you still mad at me?”

I huff loudly. “Yes.”

“What happened last night?”

I shoot him an annoyed look because he of all people knows what it’s been like for me. “I’m more worried about you than anything. I see what’s happening again.”

He reaches for my cheek and caresses it lightly. “I am just fine and dandy.” Simon pulls the door open for me, his voice reeks of sarcasm. “Besides, I’m not the one with a bruise on my face. Maybe you need to take better care of yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Immediately I despise the pointed, knowing look in his eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Simon! You can’t just say something like that and drop it.”

“How’s your boyfriend?” he sneers. “I’ll beat the shit out of him if he touches you again.”

“What?” I gasp at his insinuation. “Shane would never hit me!”

“Then, who—”

I don’t answer.

“Motherfuckers! I’ll kill them.”

My eyes find the scar on his face as I recall the time he tried to help me.

“Simon, Shane is a great guy.”

“You sure? There’s something about him…”

“I’m sure.” I nod reassuringly.

We walk along the sidewalk until we reach the double doors.

“What were you thinking about?”

“What?”

“You were walking, staring off into space with this ridiculous, dreamy look on your face.”

“I was thinking.”
About Shane. About last night. About this morning. About what he’s got planned for me.

“About what?” he asks as he lowers his hands to massage his sore groin. “You had this lustful look on your face.”

I blush.

“Were you thinking about sex?” He elbows me playfully.

My face reddens deeper as his becomes stern and he rolls his eyes. “Oh God! You slept with that asshole, didn’t you?”

“Don’t call him an asshole unless you want me to kick you in the balls again.” My lip curls upward and my eyebrows furrow into a V.

“Might as well. It’s not like I can use my dick for a few days. Fuck! I have a date tonight, too.”

“That’s nice.” I smirk. “What’s his name?”

He smirks back. “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

“Asshat.” I mumble as we walk into class and find a seat.

“Hey,” Simon leans over and whispers slowly, “I really am sorry about the other day. Forgive me?”

I search his eyes, hoping for a sliver of truth. When I finally see it, I nod my head. “Of course I forgive you. I’m just worried about you.”

“As I was saying a few moments ago, you have to make sure all your paperwork is current and handed in before the deadline.” My professor looks over the rim of his glasses and finds my eyes in roomful of other students. “For some of you, this might just be the break you need.”

I want to stand and salute him.
“Yes, Sir. I’ll do as you say, Sir. Yes, Sir, that’s correct, Sir. I am an idiot incapable of making my own choices.”
But the truth is I accept his words with a subtle nod.

For nearly two hours we watch video segments of patients diagnosed with a variety of mental health issues ranging from eating disorders, schizophrenia, PTSD to ADD being interviewed. Each case is different and the patients all unique. After an intense discussion which escalates to a debate on whether some of these are true mental disorders, David closes the class with chilling words that hit so close to home.

“Every one of us is affected by this. For some, you live with someone who has it. For others, you love someone with it. And yet there are others, possibly even some of you, who have it.”

When David hits the light switch, I yawn loudly and stretch my arms over my head, angling my head to talk to Simon.

“Hey! Did you see—”

“Fucking asshole. Who does he think he is?” Simon scoffs beneath his breath as his eyes are zeroed in at the person standing at the front of the class.

I glance up at him as he shoves papers then his laptop into the bag before storming out of the room, causing all eyes to turn toward the door and then to me.

“Simon! Come back here,” David yells as he runs out of the room. What the hell is going on? As the others vacate the room, I’m left to wonder how self-absorbed I’ve been that I’ve not noticed the deepening tension brewing between the two of them. The icy glares. The clipped responses. The rolling eyes. I need to get my head out of my ass for five minutes and pay attention to what’s going on around me. I need to be a friend to both of them.

Since I miss the train, I head into the convenient store and buy a pack of Twizzlers. I know I shouldn’t consume the extra calories, but I think my time in Shane’s bed might burn a few hundred calories. I send him a quick text but get no response.

I walk along the cracked concrete toward the place of destitution and despair. Everything is the same as it was a few days ago. I don’t know if I was expecting, by some small miracle, that things would be different today. Climbing the stairs and heading down the hall, I stop at the apartment and yank off the piece of paper taped to the door. It’s the second eviction notice. I don’t understand how there’s a notice to vacate the premises because I pay the rent every month. Sometimes I’m a little late, but it gets paid. I always pay my debts and more.

The food in my belly does a quick somersault as I wrack my brain wondering if my mother owes the landlord for a few quick fixes. I screw my eyes shut as I slide the key into the lock. Dread consumes me as I turn it slowly. I don’t want to walk in to see my mother compensating for yet another lofty debt.

I hear nothing but the soft sounds of my mother humming along to James Taylor.

As quietly as possible, I tiptoe to my room and close the door.

“Remy? Is that you?” she asks sweetly as if she cares about me.

My eyes fly to the window in panic as I think about making a run for it. I don’t need a confrontation with her. She’s as harmless as a kitten when she’s high, but as vicious as a tiger when she’s sober. “Yeah?”

“Where are you?” she asks as if we’re a normal happy family.

In misery.
“In my room.”

“Are you hungry?”

“No.” I roll my eyes and shake my head. I can’t remember the last time my mother cooked for me.

“What are you doing?” she asks. I glance at my mother who is only wearing a T-shirt that barely covers her ass. She steps into my room, crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe. The bruises along her legs roll my stomach.

“Packing.” I mumble as I continue to open and close drawers, shoving items haphazardly into my bag.

“Why? Where are you going?” Her voice is loaded with panic. “How long will you be gone?”

I shrug, wondering how long I can extend my invitation to stay at Shane’s. I could always stay at Jenna’s place as I’ve done so many times before.

My mother must realize that I’m going to be gone for more than just a night or two based on the amount of things I’ve packed.

“Please, stop.” She steps in and stills my hand, preventing me from adding clothes to the already full bag.

I pull my hand away brusquely and tug at the strained zipper.

“You can’t leave me.”

Her words shock me, remembering how many times as a child I begged her not to leave me alone in the middle of the night. I pleaded with her. Never once did she heed my pleas of mercy.

“Sweet girl, I need you.”

I freeze at the term of endearment which I loathe. “Don’t.Call.Me.That.”

Suddenly, she grabs the bag away from me. “We’re a team, remember? And I need you.”

Fury races through me as I reach for her arm and extend it. “You don’t need
me
! You need
this
!” I drop my eyes to the many pinpricks in the crook of her elbow.

“Baby, don’t say that.”

With disgust, I shove her arm away, snatch the bag back and tug at the zipper until it’s closed completely.

“Where are you going?” she snaps, her chin rising in defiance, “To David’s? Is he filling your head again? There are “the Haves and the Have Nots.” You’re a have not!”

I don’t answer; I know she’s trying to goad me into a fight.