Old Enough to Love... (Just One of the Guys) (10 page)

“What does that mean…together?” I couldn’t feel my numb feet. 

“Em. I am begging you. Let’s go to the car and warm up.
I’m
even cold.”

“Please, tell me what that means,” I asked calmly, but the restriction of my chest was becoming painful. I needed my inhaler.

“It means what you think it means.” His sympathetic voice annoyed me. “I was stupid. I didn’t know anybody. You had left…”

“Oh! This is my fault?” I screamed then regained control. “I’ve been around too many guys to see how you all always manipulate the story to be the girl’s fault. And they take it. They somehow believe they did something wrong. Dumbass’!” I was pissed and turned to walk away.

He grabbed my shoulders with force. “I’m not blaming you. I own this.”

I tried to pull away and suddenly he yanked me from the water and carried me to dry sand. “At least get out of the water.” His words were stern.

“So you… you two…” I covered my eyes with my fingers like that could prevent the images from coming.  “…you two…” I was stuttering—again.

“Yes. We hooked up.” He grimaced as the words came out.

My knees wobbled beneath me then buckled and I fell in the sand. It hurt—the words—the thoughts—the images. I didn’t want to picture it, but I did. I saw it in my mind, play out over and over. His tan hands in her onyx hair as his lips kissed hers.

“I’m truly sorry,” he murmured in my ear, and I realized he’d knelt next to me. Before I could shove him away, he’d wrapped me in his arms tucking my body into his chest. He was so warm.

“Why are you sorry? You don’t owe me anything.” My body stiffened. 

“Listen. If I thought it would have made a difference, I would have told you.  I would
not
have lied about it.” He stared at my face. “You’re breathing funny.”

“
Em!”

From up the hill, I heard the voices of Ryan and Grant who had parked themselves about thirty yards away. When I tugged my body, Zach withdrew his hold from me immediately. I dashed to them burying my face in Ryan’s ribs.

“Tell me—you didn’t cry,” he asked, pecking my hair with a kiss.

I stared up at him and shook my head. I wasn’t sure if he believed me. My shallow half breaths were coming quicker.

Grant pulled his sweatshirt off and nestled it down over my head—the strong smell of campfire smoke permeated the material but it felt warm.

“Are you OK? Ryan asked.

“You knew?”

He nodded. “She told me the minute we got back from Cannon, trying to make me jealous. I didn’t give a shit, and I’m sure that pissed her off even more. So, I think she went after you.”

“Does he like her?” I asked.

Ryan shrugged. “I can’t answer that one. Only he can. I could beat it out of him.” Though he grinned, there was a shard of sincerity to his words.

My eyes moved from Ryan’s to Zach’s, who’d wandered toward us.

“
Em, where’s your inhaler?” Grant asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I whispered.

“What inhaler?” Zach asked.

“Zach, did she bring a bag with her?” Grant’s voice was tense.

My eyes closed as I fought for air.

Suddenly there was cold on the right side of my body as Ryan’s arm abandoned me. I heard the jingle of keys. “It doesn’t matter. There’s one in my truck. Go fast, G!”

“Ryan! What’s going on?” Zach’s voice brought my eyes open for a moment.

Ryan held me close. “Don’t go to sleep, Runt.”  He patted my cheeks harder than
normal.

“It’s her asthma,” I heard him explain.

“Asthma? I didn’t know.”

This time Ryan’s touch was a simple, soft caress. “She’s
gonna be OK. Aren’t you, Runt? Look at me. Look at me, Em!”

I opened my eyes to the urgency of his voice. He smiled at me.

“Faster!” He yelled.

“Ryan, is she
gonna be all right?”

“Shut the hell up, Zach.” Ryan shouted.

Emma’s lids came only to half mast but her hand made it to Ryan’s mouth. Her tiny little fingers barely grazed his lips. “Don’t,” she said in a forced breath. “I like him,” she panted. 

I knew that it was physically impossible for a human heart to ache but the pain echoing from under my sternum was like no pain I’d ever experienced. I raked my fingers through my hair, pulling it slightly, feeling a different pain.  This was my fault. She lay in her brother’s arms fighting for breath and yet she still tried to protect me? What the hell?

“Emma!” Ryan shouted.

“I got it,” Grant’s yell resonated over the sound of the waves.  Brett and Connor were running behind, and past them Estelle walked with Jaycee and Claire.

With my hands shoved deep in my pockets, I moved closer to Emma refusing to allow them to shut me out. Grant tossed the inhaler to Ryan.

“I already shook it,” Grant gasped and rested his hands on his knees.

Ryan maneuvered the opening between her lips and gave her a puff. Her breaths so shallow, I didn’t see how it would work.

“Is it working?” I didn’t even realize that I’d said something until Grant glared up at me. 

“Em, come on,” Grant said, tapping her cheeks harder than I liked.  “Come on, sweetheart, breathe. Do it again.”

Ryan did, puffing the air again into her mouth.

“Ryan, should I call 911?” Connor said falling knees first into the sand next to them.

“No. She’s
gonna be OK, aren’t you Em?” 

My eyes roamed from Conner to Brett to Grant to Ryan. All of them standing over her, protecting her, taking care of her. I thought about the wall of pictures in their living room, each with her and the boys around.  I didn’t fit in this picture at all.  I seemed to hurt her with every step I took to get closer to her.  This girl truly needed taken care of.  She could barely breathe on her own and her stubbornness only put her more at risk. This circle of heroes seemed impenetrable.

Grant’s hand slid under the sweatshirt she wore—his sweatshirt. Though I knew it wasn’t sexual, jealousy consumed me.  I wanted to touch her, to help her, to protect her. 

“It’s working,” Grant said. “The breaths are deeper.”

“Is she OK?” The words whispered in my ear and the smell of alcohol accompanied the breath.

My quick step away should have said enough but Estelle stepped closer.

“Seriously, is she OK?” she asked again.

My hand kept her at arms distance. “What do you care? You got what you wanted.  You told her. You’re such a bitch.”

“Stop being mean. Besides, you need to know, I’m late.”

“What?”

“My period. It’s late.” Her hair blew so I couldn’t read her expression.  I swiped my hand down my face. The hits just keep on coming.

“You think you’re pregnant?” I questioned.

Suddenly, her eyes seemed to focus behind me.  I spun around and the whole crew stared at us, I’m guessing digesting everything Estelle and I said.  Emma’s eyes were fully open and she was sitting upright. The anger I fought so hard to control was at a boiling point. I hated this town. I hated the people in it. With one exception. 

“Are you OK?” I asked moving toward her.

Her little shoulders jetted up then down right before Grant stepped in front of her.

“I think we’ve got her from here.  Looks like you got bigger problems to tend to.”

Not engaging with him would be the biggest obstacle I’d overcome since I’d been here, but punching him would only get me more jail time.  My eyes stayed focused on hers.

“Is that what
you
want?” I asked her directly.

Grant threw up his arms. “It doesn’t matter what she wants.”

If I’d have been in Vegas, I would have bet a million dollars on her next response.

Her little elbow jabbed into his side and I hid my smile and focused on those baby blues. BINGO! She was becoming more predictable to me. As weak as she seemed at times, the girl had spunk. I liked that.

“Come on, Em.  Just ride home with me,” Grant encouraged.

Being this vulnerable was killing me. I wanted to shout ‘screw it’ and leave everyone standing there; yet taking even one step away from this girl was freaking impossible. I needed her to say yes.

“I’ll take you home,” I said matter of fact.

Ryan whispered something to her I couldn’t hear but she nodded.

“I have some questions,” she said.

“I’ll answer any question you have as long as you ride home with me.”

“Come on, Em. Are you crazy? Estelle just said…”

“Stop, Grant. Estelle said the same thing to me and you know it. They need to talk,” Ryan said.

Wow! To what do I owe this honor? I was too guarded to ever take this act of kindness as such.  There had to be a hidden agenda.  My eyes left Emma’s and found Ryan’s.

“Thanks, Man,” I said.

“I’m not doing this for you.”

Whatever. She was going with me, that’s all that mattered.

She slid around in her flip flops trying to make it up the hill. I was starting to find her stubbornness and independence humorous. The harder she tried, the more she seemed to fail.  I stayed behind her and watched as she took her flip flops off and attempted the hill barefoot.

“Ouch!” She winced lifting her right foot.

That’s it. I lifted her and the battle started immediately.

“Put me down, Zach.”

I didn’t respond.

“I’m serious. Put me down.” She angled her body away from me, pressing the heel of her hand into my chest. I chuckled, which I’m sure only infuriated her more, but she so wanted to be strong. 

“I will put you down in about forty yards.”

Finally, I sat her on the hood of the Chevelle, handing her the flip flops.

Once in the car, I tossed the blanket at her.

“Wrap up.”

The quilt landed on her lap then slid to the floor.  She left it.

“Come on, Emma. Get warm.” The heater was blowing cold air.

“I’m fine.”

“Great, then take off the Oregon Ducks sweatshirt.” Disgust was thick in my voice.

A smile touched the corners of her mouth. She knew I was as jealous as she was. “So, let me make sure I’ve got this straight. You can
scrog Estelle but I can’t wear someone’s sweatshirt.”

“
Scrog?” I asked with raised brows.

“Sex…
scrog…hook up…same thing. Whatever.”

Now these people had their own language.  

I started the car.  “You said you had questions. What do you want to know?”

“Why are you so angry right now?” she asked softly.

“I’m not angry. Let’s just get this over with. What do you want to know?” 

Those words didn’t come out right.

“What if she’s pregnant?”

The thought made me sick but I knew there was no way. “I used protection. Every time.”

“Every time, how many times exactly have you done it?” she whispered.

A groan escaped my throat. “Are we talking ever or with Estelle?” I hated these types of conversations and girls were notorious for instigating them.  It brought no good.

“There must be a huge difference. Let’s start with Estelle.”   

I shook my head from side to side and took a deep breath. “Probably five times.”

“Where?”

“
Em, don’t do this.” I reached for her hand but she pulled away.

“I have to know.”

“Why? So you can think about it? It meant nothing.” I found myself shouting and didn’t like it.  I didn’t want to frighten her.

“Why did you do it then?”

I sighed. “Because that’s what guys do, I guess.”

“Believe me. I know that. I see that all the time.” Her fists were clenched. “Is that what you want from me?”

“No!” I said instinctively then regretted it the moment I saw her face crumble. It was if my words slapped her. Her head fell back against the headrest.

“Where’d you
scrog her?”

“Emma. You took that wrong. All I meant was…you’re fifteen and…”

Her teeth snapped together. “Where?” she interrupted.