Entice (13 page)

I look around at the empty room, a tad confused. “What am I looking at?”

“Your new place.” He bends and kisses my cheek. “Dane owns this duplex too, since it’s by Laney and he’s insane and all—don’t ask. Anyway, this side is yours for the same $450 you were paying.”

I spin around and narrow my eyes at him. The little sneak. “There’s no way this place rents for that, Sawyer. What have you done? I told you—”

He cuts me off in a placating tone. “Shorty…simmer down and just enjoy, please. And, you’re only two doors down, so if you need anything…” He shrugs, not making this feel casual at all.

“I told you.” I shake my head. “I warned you, Sawyer, don’t give me your heart.”

He lifts my chin gently, captivating me with the struggle in his eyes. “I know you did, and I’m not pressuring you, but some things you can’t call the shots on. I’m not sure if I gave you my heart or if you stole it, but either way, I don’t want it back.”

His lips crash into mine before I can stop him, his tongue seeking entry. I try, Lord knows I try, to fight it, but mortals aren't made with that kind of strength. My mouth opens to him at the same time as my heart and I stand on my tiptoes to wrap my arms almost around his neck. Large hands scoop up my butt, lifting me as though I weigh nothing and I wrap my legs around his waist shamelessly. I don’t care, I don’t think, all I can do in this moment is try to keep breathing.

Our lips wrestle, his large and domineering, mine swollen and grateful. The deep groan he releases in my mouth drives me crazy and I grab his head with both hands, grinding my crotch into whatever part of his hard body it’s currently lined up to. “I can’t help it,” I grunt, then kiss him again, “you’re so damn sexy, and wonderful, and—”

“Fucking kiss me, woman.” He silences me, completely consuming my mouth with his own.

I don’t know how long we go at it for, both of us oblivious to anything but the taste of each other, him holding me up the entire time. But when we break to catch our breath, reality hits me. I have to tell him. I can’t fight it off anymore, the pull to him, nor can I “go” for him in good conscience. “Let’s go for a drive,” I suggest.

The tormented look on his face is almost comical, poor guy, he so thought we were about to screw like animals right here on the ground. Which I would love nothing more than to do, after I tell him…when it will no longer be an option he affords me.

“If you wanna go for a drive, we’ll go for a drive.” He sets me on my feet and links our fingers together. “Your show, Shorty, lead the way.”

—Sawyer—

“
S
awyer, this is my Gramma, Katherine Louise Young. Gramma, this is Sawyer.”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to a headstone. “Nice to meet you” doesn’t seem quite right, so I remain silent, looking at my sweet angel with what I hope isn’t blatant pity.

“Sit down.” She takes my hand and guides me to the flat stone bench right behind her grandmother’s grave. “My gramma was all I had in the whole world. My sperm donor remains a mystery and my mother took off pretty much the minute I popped out of her.” She fakes a laugh and rolls her eyes. “She was the ultimate hair band groupie. Sadly, she never got the memo that the members of Twisted Sister and the likes are now twisted grandparents, and that no one thinks men who use Aqua Net are cool, so I’m sure she’s off living her dream of hotel rooms and reunion tour buses.” She pops her shoulders. “Who knows? Not important, really. So, when she died a few years ago,” she nods her head back to her grandma’s headstone, “I was alone.”

“Em—”

“No,” she stops me with a stiff hand to my chest, “let me say it all at once or I never will.”

I nod, scooting back an inch. She takes a deep breath before she continues.

“So when I found out I was pregnant, I decided to look at it as a blessing and make it work. I’ll have someone to give every ounce of my love to and they’ll love me back, right? Neither of us will ever be alone.”

There are certain moments in life where you’ll never forget where you were when you heard. What you were wearing, how she wore her hair, if it was cold or hot out…I know this is one of those moments for me.

The girl I might quite possibly be falling in love with, a fall that started the first time I looked at her, is pregnant. And not with my baby.

“You’re pregnant?” I choke out, my tone as level and calming as I can keep it, hoping my face is pulling it off as well. “I saw you in a bikini—you didn’t look pregnant.”

She rolls her eyes, letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “I’m about fifteen weeks, as far as I can figure. It’ll be a while, I guess, before I really show.”

My face must have failed at stoic, showing exactly how confused I feel, ‘cause she gives me an opening.

“Ask me anything you want, Sawyer.”

“Who’s the father?” I blurt out. “Do you love him?”

“And then there’s that part.” She runs a hand through her hair and turns to look at her gramma’s headstone over her shoulder. “You might as well hear it too, Gramma. You’re both gonna freak, so let me start with,” another long exhale, “I’m fine. I’ve come to terms with it and made my decision, so please don’t think I’m crazy or try to talk me out of it.”

An eerie feeling rolls over me and I know I’m not gonna like what she’s about to say.

“I don’t know who the father is. Calm down, Gramma.” Her forced giggle is clearly false bravado and tugs at my heart; I want to hold her and make it go away. I want to kiss her silent so I don’t hear what I suspect will be some guy’s death wish. But rather, I force myself to remain still and listen, letting her get it out to both me and her grandmother; a cleansing of sorts. “I was a virgin, far from a whore,” she continues, turning back to me now. “I went to a party one night and drank way too much. I admit it and I own it—it was stupid. The last thing I remember is watching a girl in a shiny green top do a keg stand, then I woke up on the floor of a dorm room with about ten other people. I was devastated when I realized exactly how stupid I’d been, and so humiliated…” Tears are gushing down her cheeks and she’s actually snorting in an attempt to breathe, but still, I don’t move to touch her.

I’m frozen; in shock, in anger, in awe…I’m fucking frozen.

“I dug around for my shoes and snuck out, walking as fast as I could to the bus stop. I’d ridden with a girl I knew from school, but I didn’t want to look for her or talk to her ever again, so I just walked and walked until I saw a sign.”

Make it stop, I can’t hear anymore.

“When I got to the hub, I finally took a breath and went to put on my shoes. When I—” Her body racks under the violent sobs and I can’t not hold her another minute, sliding across the bench and wrapping her in my arms. “When I lifted my foot, to put…to put on my shoe, I felt it.”

I can’t ask; I don’t want to know. Instead, I hold her tighter, manically kissing her hair as I smooth it down. Rub, kiss, rub, kiss…it’s all I can do efficiently right now.

“It hurt, like a pull inside me, and a spurt of something came out.” She wipes her nose and looks up at me apologetically. “Sorry, that might be too much. I meant, I knew, I just knew, I’d been with someone.”

“You were raped.” The words burn my mouth, the sting of venom fresh on my tongue.

“No!” She’s quick to answer, but then frowns as her reaction sinks in. “I don’t know, maybe. I remember dancing with a guy, so maybe I flirted too much. I was out of it enough to not remember, so maybe I was out of it enough to say yes. I’ll never know for sure.”

Another moment I’ll always remember—I’ve never been so angry and consumed with absolute hatred in my life. The person I now hate most in the entire world is a stranger; a man with no name or face known to me, who will die the moment, if ever, we meet.

“Don’t you ever say that again!” I hope my grip on her chin is gentle as I grasp it to make her meet my eyes. “This was not your fault. You can’t say yes and mean it when you’re drugged, which it sounds like you may have been, or even passed out. And anyone with it enough to do what he did would’ve been able to see you weren’t in your right mind.”

“I know,” she pulls her face from my grasp and buries it in my chest, “but my version makes it bearable. Maybe I just drank too much. Sometimes, not very often, I have dreams and see flashes of a scene I don’t understand. I’m not sure if it’s something I was there for or a nightmare I made up after…it.”

“Did you go to the ER when it happened, Emmett?”

“No,” she looks up, “and please don’t yell at me about it. I thought if I couldn’t remember actually saying no, then I couldn’t accuse someone, let alone a faceless stranger, of being a rapist.”

“Are you worried he knows you?” I ask, because whoever he is, he better hope like fucking hell I never find out. I will kill him, no questions, no chance for explanation. I know myself, what I can and cannot handle reasonably—it would be both his and my “game over”—him underground, me to jail.

“No,” she mumbles. “I moved, sold my car, changed schools and jobs, everything, even though I seriously doubt he even knew my name, or cared. I’m sorry, Gramma,” she wails, the most agonizing sound I’ll ever hear, “but I’m keeping this baby. I don’t care if it’s selfish, I am! I’m not afraid of the bus or hard work!” She pauses and hiccups. “I’m…I’m afraid of one day looking into the eyes of another child I have with my husband and knowing I didn’t do everything I could to love the first one!”

“Shh.” I gather her up in my embrace as tight as I can. “No one thinks you’re selfish, babe. Wanting to pour all your love onto someone else couldn’t ever be thought of as selfish.”

“But I worry that I won’t be able to give them a good life. Like if I gave the baby up for adoption, maybe they’d get a family with a big house and a backyard, maybe some dogs.” She loses it again, succumbing to body shakes and gasping cries.

Sweet girl, her thoughts scrambled but adorable. “We can get a dog, babe,” I assure her. “I love dogs.”

“So now you know it all. That’s why we can never be more than friends. But like it or not, I feel a bond with you. I trust you and I can’t bear the thought of not having you in my life. Will you please keep being my friend?” Her bottom lip is quivering as her watery green eyes beg an answer from me.

And I’m a goner—bag me and tag me, I’m done.

“Yes, sweet, beautiful, selfless Emmett. I’ll be your best friend.”

Chapter 12

Not Cruel Intentions

—Emmett—

I
have a whole new outlook on life. My steps have an extra spring, my shoulders a lightness I haven’t felt in months, and my journal pages have happy little doddles in the corners. Now that Sawyer knows everything and let me keep my job and his friendship, for the first time in a long time, I have hope that everything really will be all right.

Against my better judgment, I moved into the duplex by him. Actually, I quit bitching and smiled as he moved my stuff in it, then made him a sandwich. Then when he looked around and sighed, I made him another one.

I still want him every time I look at him, but we’ve kept things strictly platonic for the last two weeks. I’m sure it’s not a struggle for him, with the new information he’s been given, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult for me. My hormones kick in more and more every day and we’re together constantly and much of the time he’s shirtless, or being cocky, or sexy…or breathing.

He’s always with me when I fall asleep, telling me about himself or his day. Constantly, after my eyes have drifted closed, he nudges me when the “good part” is coming up in the movie. And when we drag in from work together, late at night, my bath’s usually running before I even have both shoes off. And he, or a sweet note, is always there when I wake up.

So it more than hurts a little and feels like that balloon of hope I’d been carrying around just popped when I round the corner at work Friday night and see Mariah practically lying across the bar in front of him. I stop short and observe from afar, the dagger cutting deeper as he looks down at her and shoots her that sexy grin of his that I so love. She runs one hand up his arm and he dips his head to let her whisper in his ear, then laughs and nods when he pulls back.

I know I’ll never be his, or him mine; I’m pregnant and a constant charity case for him to rescue, but he deserves better than Mariah. She’s not smart enough to pick up on his quick wit or keep up her end of a late night, snacks in bed conversation. She couldn’t possible appreciate his kindness, once you get past the growling and under the breath bossiness, and if she doesn’t say “thank you,” then he won’t get to ask her stuff and they’ll never build a real relationship. And his races, which he’s almost completely stopped for some reason…but should he ever start up again and take her, there’s no way she’ll focus and cheer for him rather than skank along the sidelines for her next slut fix. And oh my God, he’ll flunk Calc II! He thinks he’s good, but he’s horrid, so you have to go back and erase his answers and forge in the right ones in sloppy handwriting. She probably can’t even add!

I should stomp over there right now and rip her off that bar by her badly bleached hair, for Sawyer’s sake and all, but I can’t. That’d be more of my selfishness keeping him from being single, young, and carefree, to keep him strangled with my polar opposite drama.