Nothing Between Us (2 page)

But she knew she wouldn’t. She would find herself here again.

Because if she didn’t have her secret nights with Colby Wilkes, what was left?

Four walls, long days, and fear.

She needed this. She just had to make sure he never found out.

October 31

Right before quitting time, Colby got a visit from the Grim Reaper. Colby looked up from his desk at the hooded head peeking in through his doorway. “You know where Dr. Guthrie is?”

The sullen voice sounded appropriately grim for the costume. Colby put aside the student file he’d been making notes on. “He had to leave early because he wasn’t feeling well. Were you supposed to meet with him today?”

The reaper shrugged and pulled his hood back, revealing the face of junior Travis Clarkson. “Yeah. But if he’s not here . . .”

Colby could hear the indecision in the drift of Travis’s voice. If his counselor wasn’t here, he had the right to skip his appointment, but Colby sensed the kid needed to talk. He’d heard there’d been a bullying incident this morning and that Travis had been the target. Unfortunately, not an uncommon spot for Travis. Poor kid came from one of the wealthiest families in the area, but money couldn’t fix his acne-prone skin, his crippling social anxiety, or the resulting depression it caused.

“Come on in and grab a chair, Travis,” Colby said, keeping his voice casual. “There’s only a half hour before the bell. You can skip the rest of study hall and chat with me.”

Travis shifted on his feet in that awkward way teen boys did when they hadn’t quite grown into their new longer limbs. “I don’t want—you look busy.”

“Nope.” Colby stretched his leg beneath his desk and sent the chair in front of it rolling toward Travis. “I was just finishing up some notes. You’ll save me from boring paperwork.”

Travis tucked his hands in the robe of his costume and shuffled in. He glanced around at Colby’s office, his eyes skimming over the shelves of books and the few photos he’d kept from his music days. “Your office is different than Dr. Guthrie’s.”

No shit. That was because Guthrie liked to pretend he was Freud himself instead of some guy working at the pedestrian institution of Graham Alternative High School. Guthrie’s office had a plush couch, hunter green paint over the cinder-block walls, muted lighting, and a freaking desk fountain. If smoking weren’t banned in the building, Colby had no doubt the school psychologist would have a pipe hanging from his mouth during sessions. But Colby had learned that the last thing these kids needed was to walk into something that looked like a therapist’s office. In fact, he spent most of his sessions with his students doing something active while they talked. It was amazing how a kid could open up if he was shooting hoops and not being stared at when he answered personal questions.

“I like to keep things simple.”

Travis went to the wall to get a closer look at a photo instead of immediately sitting down. “Is that you and Brock Greenwood?”

“Yeah,” Colby said. “I played with him in a band when we were younger. Of course, back then, he wasn’t
the
Brock Greenwood. Just a guy who could sing his face off. You listen to country music?”

Travis turned away from the picture and lowered himself into the chair. “I listen to everything. I like mashing shit—er—stuff up on my computer. You know, making things that don’t seem to go together blend.”

Colby smiled. “Really? That’s cool. I can’t be trusted with all those music programs. I have a friend who does it and he’s tried to teach me, but he’s declared me a hopeless case. Just give me my guitar and a blank piece of paper to jot down lyrics.”

“Old school.”

“Or just old.”

Travis almost smiled—something Colby wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Travis do—but the kid seemed to catch himself before he let it break through. God forbid he let the school counselor know he liked talking to him. “You still play?”

“I do. I play a few gigs here and there. Nothing serious. It’s a good way to relax—playing without any pressure attached to it.”

Travis nodded. “Yeah, I get that. But I can’t really imagine getting onstage as being relaxing. I like the behind-the-scenes stuff. Putting on my headphones . . . I don’t know, it’s like a switch that shuts out the world and transports me somewhere else, another life.”

“An escape.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his chapped lips together. “That’s what I like. That escape. Nothing else matters when the music is playing.”

Colby leaned back in his chair and hooked his ankle over his knee, understanding that desire but also hearing the loneliness lacing Travis’s words. “Ever thought about pursuing a career in that? Sound engineering or music producing?”

Travis glanced up, his face a bit haunted—although that could’ve been the whole Grim Reaper look he had going on. “I’ve thought about it. But my parents would shit a brick—sorry.”

Colby waved a hand, dismissing the language. The kid was talking, he didn’t care if he slipped up and cursed.

“They hate me fooling around with my computer. They think it isolates me or whatever. Like if I just stop doing that, suddenly my life will be all Friday night football games and proms and crap.” He sneered. “They can’t see that those things aren’t options for me even if I wanted them. Maybe they should be the ones on medication. They’re delusional.”

Colby rubbed a hand over the back of his head, choosing his words carefully. It was always a fine line when kids complained about their parents. If you took the parents’ side, the kid shut down. If you undermined the parents and agreed with the kids, you helped justify behavior that might not be one hundred percent healthy. “Sometimes it’s hard for parents to see the benefit in something that from the outside looks like wasting time. If they don’t share that passion, it can be hard for them to understand.”

“They just wish I were someone else.” His gaze dropped to his hands, which were fiddling with the strap of his backpack. “I don’t really blame them.”

Colby hid his frown. “Would you want to be someone else if you could?”

He twisted the strap around his fingers. “Maybe.”

“And who would you be?”

He grimaced. “I don’t know. Someone who could ask a girl out without getting pit stains in front of everyone.”

“Is that what got Dalton and his friends after you today?”

He chewed his lip and gave another shrug.

“Would you want to be him?” Colby asked, picturing Dalton Wiggins—Mr. Popular, lead shit-stirrer at Graham High. And a kid who had an irrevocably broken home life that Colby would wish on no one. Of course, no one here knew that except him since Dalton only shared that stuff in the privacy of his counseling sessions with Colby.

“Fuck, no,” Travis bit out. “The guy’s a jerk. But if I looked like him, I wouldn’t act like he does. I’d just, I don’t know, use it for good.”

Colby lifted a brow. “For good?”

“For girls,” Travis supplied, a little smirk touching his lips.

Ah, it always came back to girls. “So what happened today when you asked that girl out?”

“She started out being nice about it—even though she was going to say no. I could tell. They always say no. But when Dalton walked up and teased me about sweating, she just kind of looked embarrassed. And like . . .” His jaw clenched. “Like she felt sorry for me.”

Colby’s chest squeezed. Damn, this kid couldn’t catch a break. He was probably one of the smartest students in the school. His test scores were always off the charts. He was only here at Graham because his depression had become debilitating last year, and he’d missed too much school. One day, he’d probably be some brilliant engineer, rich off his ass, clear-skinned and sought after by droves of the fairer sex. But Colby knew the future seemed so damn far away when you were a teenager. “Travis—”

“I just want the crap to end, you know? Like, can they cut me some slack for one goddamned day? You know how hard it was for me to get the nerve to ask Mallory out?”

“I’ll make sure and talk to Dalton about his behavior. He’s already on warning and is close to getting kicked out if he keeps it up. We’ll make sure you can come to school without having to worry about bullies.”

Travis sniffed. “Someone else will just replace him.”

Colby flinched, knowing that was probably true. “How about we—”

The bell rang, startling them both.

Travis jumped up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I gotta go.”

“Hey,” Colby said, standing. “Wait, you don’t have to—”

“I need to pick up my sister at her school. If I’m late, my mom will be pissed.”

“Travis, I want to make sure you’re okay after what happened today. If you want to talk some more, I can—”

“I’m fine.” He pulled his Reaper hood over his head again. “Happy Halloween, Mr. Wilkes.”

Colby opened his mouth to say something else, then shut it when Travis disappeared into the now-bustling hallway. Colby sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. Monday he’d pull Travis out of class for a full session. At least with the weekend, the kid would get a break from school for a few days.

And after today, Colby could use one, too. He packed up his things and headed out. He had a party to host. And a bet to honor.

He wasn’t looking forward to the latter.

—

“Damn, Colby, you were supposed to dress up. Where’s your costume?” Kade asked when Colby opened the front door to let his two friends in a few hours later.

Colby lifted his plastic ax to his shoulder. “Don’t fuck with me, Vandergriff. I have weapons. And Paul Bunyan could totally kick a zombie’s ass. One swing to the head and you’re done.”

Kade grinned a macabre, dead man’s smile and stepped past Colby into the house, carrying grocery bags. “So I guess this means you lost the bet with Kelsey and Wyatt?”

“I was hustled. I had no idea that girl was so good at pool.”

Tessa, Kade’s girlfriend, was fighting a smile beneath her black lipstick as she followed Kade in. “Evening, Mr. Lumberjack.”

Colby groaned and cocked his head toward his ax. “You’re lucky you’re good-looking, zombie girl.”

For months, members at The Ranch, the BDSM resort Colby worked at on the weekends, had been calling him The Lumberjack behind his back. He hated the nickname, and now it was definitely going to stick. Especially after he saw Kade set down his bags and snap a pic with his phone. It was probably spreading through their network of friends like a virus as they stood there.

Tessa handed him a plastic-wrapped tray of red and green Jell-O shots that were shaped like brains and tilted her head to give him another once-over. “Don’t worry. It’s a good look for you. Very rustic. I’m sure you could head out to The Ranch and have a crowd of submissives volunteering to play Babe the Blue Ox for you tonight.”

He laughed and took the tray from her. “There’s nothing sexy about an ox.”

Plus, he had no desire to go to The Ranch tonight. He’d been working there for a few years now as a trainer. It was what he did for a little fun and a lot of extra money. And normally, Halloween was one of his favorite nights to go out there since no one knew how to do deviant costumes—or the
treat
part of the trick-or-treat equation—like kinky people. But the enjoyment had been draining out of his time at The Ranch over the last year, and it had started to feel like work instead of an escape. He couldn’t pinpoint what had shifted. But lately, the dynamic of training someone as a business arrangement had sucked a lot of what he loved about kink out of the experience. He used to get a high from sessions. Now too often he felt hollow and exhausted by the end of them. Even when he was with someone off the clock, it still felt like a transaction instead of a connection.

In fact, the last time he remembered having a really good time with anyone was the night he’d helped Kade give Tessa her threesome fantasy. It’d been a fun and sexy night with friends. But Colby had known then it would be a onetime thing. His best friend had been stupid in love with the girl already—even if the idiot hadn’t realized it at the time. And though Colby was always up for a little fantasy and fun, he knew better than to mess around with friends once things got serious. Kade hadn’t even had to say it. Colby knew Tessa was completely off-limits now.

Which was fine with him. Tessa was great—beautiful and smart. But there was no doubt she was meant to be with Kade. The two lit each other up in a way that had Colby more than a little jealous. And damn, when Kade and Tessa had fallen into their dominant and submissive roles that night they were all together, it’d been something to behold. The air had seemed to vibrate with the energy between them. That was how it was supposed to be. That was where the kink transformed into something bigger than hot sex and dirty words. It became sacred. Colby couldn’t remember ever being with anyone who flipped his switch like that. That night, more than anything else, had made him start to question his job at The Ranch.

He liked having the extra cash but not enough to stick around if the role had lost its shine. The submissives he worked with deserved better than a guy who was becoming more and more tempted to phone it in. He planned to talk to Grant, the owner of The Ranch, about stepping down as soon as he’d secured the full-time counselor position at Graham.

But regardless of his own issues, he was thrilled for his friend. Kade had found exactly who he needed. Tessa was it for him. They all knew it, and somehow, they’d all moved past any potential awkwardness from their one night together without much effort. Mostly because Kade was so damn cocky he didn’t know how to be jealous.

Colby carried the tray of wiggling brains into the kitchen. “Well, I think you brought enough alcohol to tank the whole neighborhood. I approve.”

Kade tucked a few bottles of wine and a twelve-pack of beer into the fridge, his shredded zombified suit swinging with the movement. “Jace, Evan, and Andre said they’d pick up pizza on the way. Kelsey’s bringing candy to hand out to the kids, and Wyatt’s contributing his top three horror movies of all time for us to choose from.”

“Sounds like y’all have got it all covered. I should play host more often. I didn’t have to do anything but open the door.”

“Your place is the best for Halloween. Kids aren’t even allowed to trick-or-treat in my or Wyatt’s neighborhood. It’s ridiculous.”

Colby sniffed. That was because his friends were loaded and lived in those swanky neighborhoods with coded gates and a mile between the damn houses. The kids would pass out from exhaustion by house number three.