Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (40 page)

I pull his face forward and crush my mouth against his, slipping my tongue in to taste him, as he grips my back tightly. I feel air-bound as he lifts me and moves us to the long bench seat. He positions himself between my spread legs and hovers over me, never losing the contact between our lips. My fingers entangle in his hair, fisting it, pulling it as desire overtakes my sense of control. My head is yanked back when he attacks my neck, kissing and sucking desperately.

Like a wild man, he claws at my clothing, trying to rid us of the cotton barrier. A button from my shirt flies off and lands on the rubber floormat with a ping. He’s an animal ready to pounce on his prey and devour it.

His fingers drift down, unbutton my jeans and fill my core. I yelp at the rough contact. My body is not ready for such a vicious barrage.

“Shane, go easy,” I plead.

But it seems my words fall upon deaf ears as he continues to fuck me hard with his fingers. His fingers feel like sandpaper against my dryness.

“Shane, stop.” I struggle to pull away. “Stop!” I yell.

He snaps his head up, pulling it away from my neck. His blue eyes are wild and wide, filled with lust and confusion.

“Baby, stop.” I caress his face. “What are you doing?”

“I need to make love to you.”

I shake my head. “This isn’t making love. You’re angry about something. You’re fucking me out of anger…”

“Fuuccck!” He roars as he cocks his arm back and punches the seat just beyond where my head rests. I screw my eyes shut as my hands fly up to shield my face. I brace for a hard blow.

“Remy,” Shane yells my name. “Baby, what are you doing?”

I scramble from my current position beneath him and cower against the door in fear.

Blinking rapidly, I focus my eyes on him. Agony and regret mar his face.

“I…I thought you were going to hit me.” I stammer. “I thought you were going to hit me.” My chin quivers as I repeat the words a final time.

“Jesus Christ, Remy! I would never fucking lay a hand on you!” I pull away from his extended hand as he reaches for my face. “Baby, please don’t pull away from me.”

The fast thumping of my heart pumps in succinct rhythm through my ears. “You raised your hand, Shane. That punch landed right next to my head.”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry.” He takes my hands and pulls me close even though everything in my brain is telling me to keep my distance. “I would never ever hurt you.”

“You were rough… too rough. I get that you’re angry about your dad, but you can’t use me or my body as your punching bag. You can’t take your anger out on me.”

“I wasn’t doing that…” he says with a deep sigh as if trying to convince himself more than me.

“You did!” I counter firmly. “It’s like you were trying to punish
me
.”

“I wasn’t. I love you more than anything. More than anyone.”

I straighten out my clothing and sit away from him. “Can we just go home?”

With an exhale, Shane nods, slides over and starts the truck.

The short ride back to his family’s home is quiet. I think about how much I love the man beside me but realize how little I know about certain parts of his life. I thought the road to a future together was clear, but I think we need to get over the hurdle of his past.

“I really am sorry.” Shane nuzzles against my neck as he pulls my body against his while his other hand closes around mine. I simply nod my understanding.

“I would never lay a hand on you. I would never hurt you.”

“I want to believe that, but you’re scaring me.” I turn to meet his gaze. “Maybe you should talk to someone, Shane.”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone. What I need is for you to forgive me. Please say that you believe me.” Repeatedly, he kisses the symbol etched on my wrist.

I want to turn around and look at the sincerity on his face that matches his words. I want to utter the three words I know will set him at ease, but I can’t.

Shane

IT’S BEEN TWO
weeks since our disastrous weekend when I brought Remy home to meet my mother. I never expected to run into my father nor did I expect the reaction that I had when I saw him. I hurt Remy. I hurt her body. I hurt her feelings. I hurt her spirit. It took a few days for us to sit down and talk about what happened, but even then I withheld the truth even though the words lingered on my lips. I know she won’t understand. On the outside, I’m an expensive, luxurious and sleek Mercedes. What you can’t see are the cheap, used parts from a Hyundai that make up who I am. I’m a fraud. I’m a liar. I’m a hypocrite. I’m a coward.

Tonight is the final game for our boys; it’s the division championship. Everyone’s excitement is tangible, thick and heavy in the crisp November air. I’ve asked Remy to come to the game even though I know she’s not fond of the game. I need her there with me. I need to know things are okay with us. I need to know she’s my future.

I look up to the stands were my girl sits amongst all the people cheering for our team. One of her mittens is wedged in between her teeth while she looks down and taps out a message on her phone. Remy wasn’t too thrilled about canceling her weekly Friday Girls’ Night with Jenna. I wave when Remy spots me as she struggles to slip the mittens back on to warm her fingers.

Even though I’m engrossed in the game, I glance at her when I have the chance. I’m a bit annoyed that she’s been on her phone practically the whole night. I can’t imagine who she’s talking to or why she looks so pissed off.

A roar of thunderous applause and cheers fills the stadium when the football is intercepted and run back for a touchdown. Our boys, who were considered the underdogs, have just beaten the defending champions.

A sea of students and fans run out onto the field to celebrate the miraculous victory.

I look around, expecting Remy to come join me on the field, but I don’t see her. I glance around the stadium searching for her to no avail. Once the excitement has subsided and the field is clear, I pull out my phone and call her. I try again but am met with voicemail each time.

“Great game, Coach!” Dana croons into my ear as she hugs me. “You’re a real slave driver, aren’t you?”

“What?” I don’t hide the annoyance in my voice.

Her glassy eyes reveal she’s intoxicated.

“Have you seen Remy?” I dare ask.

“She left, but I’m here.” Her attempts to push out her chest and draw my attention to her tits fail miserably.

“When did she leave?” I don’t know why I’m even bothering to ask her questions. She’s practically incoherent.

“Who fucking cares about her? Little slut.” Venomous words slip from her lips.

I clench my jaw and walk away before I say or do something stupid.

“Yo, Shane. You coming out with us?”

Ignoring Eric’s question, I ask one of my own. A more important one. “Have you seen Remy?”

“I think she left a while ago,” he answers.

“A while ago?”

“How do you know she left?”

He hesitates, “Uh…you kept looking up at her.”

I rub my eyes and wonder if I really was that obvious.

“And she told Cathy to tell you she was leaving. Something about somebody being sick. I don’t know, man.”

I wouldn’t be so upset if Remy would have just said something.

“Let me get in touch with her and I’ll meet up with you.”

“Dude, c’mon. One beer. I’m sure she’s okay.”

I exhale a deep breath filled with annoyance as I call her phone once again. I leave a quick message that I’m stopping at home and then going for a beer, but that I won’t be out late.”

I make it home in record time, even running a few red lights and swerving in and out of traffic to get to her. I’m worried that Eric’s wife, Cathy, misunderstood the message and Remy is actually sick.

Dashing up the stairs, I find the apartment empty. Only the closet light in the second bedroom is on. I call her name as I check the bathroom. I try her number again, but it goes straight to voicemail.

I drop my face into my palm and scrub hard.
Where are you?
I repeat over and over. I walk into the kitchen, cup my hands and take a drink of water before I take a pill out of my phone case.

“Hello?” I answer my phone when I see Eric’s name. I find myself pacing back and forth as I listen to him tell me that his wife clarified the message that Remy’s mother was sick.

I jump into the truck and drive over to the apartment she shared with her mother. I’d only been there once, but I could never forget seeing that gorgeous angel sitting on the stairs waiting for me.

I double park the truck and run up the stairs, but the door is locked. I look at the names listed by the doorbells, running my finger up and down, searching desperately for her last name.

A tall, thin woman with black dreadlocks walks up beside me and inserts a key to unlock the front door. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for Remy. Do you know her?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, no one by that name lives here.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, she does.” I continue to give a detailed description of my girlfriend.

The woman steps through the door and holds it ajar. “No one under fifty five lives here. This is assisted living housing.”

What the hell?
I glance around and confirm this to be the place I picked her up. I thank the woman and once again call Remy’s phone.

“Where are you?” I ask Eric when he picks up the line. I know alcohol isn’t going to solve the problem of where my girl is, but I could sure use a beer.

“The Glass Slipper.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Does your wife know you’re there?” I ask.

“She knows. She trusts me. You think I’d ever touch those dirty bitches?”

“There are so many bars in Boston. Why do you guy always go there?”

“Cheap drinks, brother. And besides, Brandon heard Jade is back.”

I retort, “Brandon is an asshole.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

I would love to meet this stripper who Brandon is infatuated with. I’d give her a heads up that he doesn’t want to date her, he wants to fuck her, but she’s probably too stupid or high to realize the difference.

“As soon as I talk to Remy, I’ll head down for a beer. One beer and I’m out.” I announce before I hang up and call Remy again. Still nothing. I decide to try Jenna’s phone, wondering if maybe she’s still not feeling well after a bad case of food poisoning.

“Hey Jenna. It’s Shane. Sorry to bother you.”

She answers quickly and sounds like her usual self.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Why?”

“Remy said you were sick a few days this week. Is she with you by any chance?”

The dead silence alarms me and prompts me to inquire, “Didn’t you have food poisoning?”

The nervousness is evident in her hesitant voice. “Uh…yeah I’m feeling better.”

“Jenna… are you lying to me?” My voice deepens.

“Shit,” she whispers.

“You’re not sick, are you? Where are you, Jenna? Where’s Remy?” I feel a hollow pit in my stomach.

“Oh God. I don’t want to get in the middle of this, Shane!” I can hear in her voice that she realizes she just blew Remy’s cover.

“Where. Are. You?” I enunciate slowly.

“I’m with Collin.”

“Collin? You’re in North Carolina?” My suspicion grows tenfold in three seconds flat.

“Yeah.Well, I’m actually getting ready to board my flight home. What’s going on with her? Is she in trouble?”

“Trouble?” I question. “No, of course she’s not in trouble.”

I quickly explain that she left the game without a word and isn’t answering her phone. Realizing now that Remy isn’t with Jenna, I wrack my brain, wondering where the hell she went and what is so important that she ditched me.

“Can I call you right back?”

“Why? Who are you calling?”

“Shane, please. Just give me a minute.”

“Fine. Sixty seconds.”

Jenna disconnects the call immediately. I wait for less than a minute when she calls back, telling me that Remy’s phone went to voicemail. She asks me to provide an account of everything that happened and when the last time I saw her was.

“Do you think she’s with Simon?” I ask as adrenaline surges in my veins. Something about him rubs me the wrong way.

“I don’t think so. They’re not exactly on speaking terms, but I’ll call him.”

Again, she disconnects the call as I drive through the streets of Boston and call her phone relentlessly until I see Jenna’s name appear.

“He hasn’t seen her yet tonight, but he’s going to ask around.”

“What the fuck does that mean? Who is he going to ask?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Shane, calm down. Remy is a big girl and I’m sure she’s fine. I don’t think you realize how tough she is. She can take care of herself.”

If her words are meant to make me feel better, they don’t. “Call me the second you hear from her.”

I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles are white. I don’t understand what Jenna and Simon are talking about; they’re making it sound like Remy’s some notorious person known on the streets of Boston. Call me crazy, but I drive around for hours like a goddamn stalker looking for her.