Raining Down Rules (13 page)

Chapter 27

Jordan

I hate everything I am feeling; guilt, shame, stupidity, and worst of all I have this ache in my chest that appeared shortly after leaving Jemma. I’m using the drugs to avoid the feelings, but it’s like they make them even stronger. She is all I can think about—well, her and the next score. Leaving Jemma was probably best for her since I am so far down this road of destruction it isn’t fair to bring her with me. That is what I keep telling myself anyway.

I’ve rented this shit-hole apartment in a crap part of Warner where nearly anything I want is only a text away.

And I’ve gotten some good shit.

Sifting through the shallow drawer in the nightstand table beside this lumpy bed, I find a syringe and my drug of choice at the moment. I close my eyes and let the effects of the drug wash over me, in hopes of it drowning out the thoughts of her. As I lie here next to some girl I wish was Jemma, my body tenses as my eyes close and picture her. Nothing about her was wrong. She drove me crazy and made me want to haul her over my shoulder and take her to her room and do incredible things to her.

The drugs begin to take effect and I’m transported back to her ranch. She’s the one lying next to me with a cool breeze flowing through her bedroom window that blows wisps of her hair over her face. I brush them away on the girl next to me, who stirs, rolls over, and smiles. I don’t see her, I see Jemma, and I pull her into my arms and kiss her. Our tongues collide and she wraps her legs around me, pulling me close. She’s moaning against my lips as I roll her on top of me so she can straddle me. She comes down on me hard in one swift movement and then we’re lost in my drug-induced daydream of Jemma and me back on her ranch.

Chapter 28

Jemma

Vic pulls me back into our little booth and sits next to me and I prepare myself for a lecture in underage drinking. His lips are pressed into a thin line as he grabs my drink and pushes it to the edge of the table. He beckons to a nearby server who looks like she’s working to pay off her boob job.

“Whatcha drinking?” she asks as she smacks her gum.

“I’ll have another Jack and Coke, she’ll have a Shirley Temple.”

I want to shrivel up into a ball and roll under the table and sulk out of here. Could this be any more embarrassing?

“No,” I say, and start to stand. “I was just leaving.” Vic reaches for me, but I dodge his grasp and head toward Angie and Caleb. This night just got hella bad.

“Jemma.” Vic calls for me, but I ignore him. I guess his swoon-worthy exterior melted away, revealing the jerk below the surface.

Angie and Caleb aren’t at the table when I get there. Crap. Vic’s right behind me. He practically has me cornered. He’s wearing a sideways grin and my eyes rake over the muscled expanse of his chest.

“What? Did you want to make a complete idiot of me?” I say as I turn and really look at him.

“I was just having some fun.”

“Somehow, I didn’t get that memo.”

“Okay, so maybe it was a dick move. Let’s go dance some more.” He reaches his hand to me, and for a mere second I think about taking it. But then I see Angie coming out of the bathroom and I ditch Vic.

The room is growing thick with people and my night isn’t getting any better, so I find Angie in the mix and tell her I’m ready to go home. She informs me the front door to her house is unlocked and I’m welcome to whatever I want. I give her a quick hug and then make my way toward the front of the club to hail a taxi. It’s only a little after nine and most people are coming rather than going, so getting a taxi shouldn’t be hard. Except there isn’t a single one in sight. A small bench, barely built for two, looks like a welcome place to sit while I wait.

Several cars pass by where I’m sitting before a large black truck pulls up in front of the bench and comes to a stop. The passenger window rolls down and I see Vic inside, smiling at me.

“Wanna ride?” he asks.

There hasn’t been a single cab in the ten minutes I’ve been sitting here, so I stand up and meet him at the window.

“How much have you had to drink?” My arms rest on the window ledge and I await his answer. I haven’t had more than half a glass, and I know he’s had more than that.

“Probably more than I should have. You can drive,” he admits, and it’s at this point I begin to seriously consider taking his keys and driving myself back to Angie’s house, leaving him here at the club.

“Fine. Slide over, I’ll drive.”

Vic’s truck is a newer model black Ford F-250 with a gray cloth bench seat in the front. The interior is clean, which should surprise me, but somehow the way he presents himself as clean cut and put together is a good indicator of how he keeps his vehicle.

“So what was all that in there?” I ask as I shift the truck into drive and pull away from the curb.

“Maybe it was just my tactic to get you out of the club and into my truck. You do know how to drive a truck, right?”

I rev the engine as I glare at him. “I live on a ranch, remember?”

“Hot
and
she knows how to drive a truck. My kind of woman,” Vic says with a smile that could possibly melt my tough exterior. “Where are we going?”

“
We
aren’t going anywhere.
I
am going to my friend’s house to crash for the night.”

“But how do you know I’ll make it back to my house safely? I have had quite a bit to drink.”

He’s got me there. Not knowing exactly how much he’s had does make me a little worried about him driving home. But then again, I can’t just let him crash at Caleb’s house. They don’t know him.

The house is just a bit farther down the road, and I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do about Vic. I could text Angie and see if she and Caleb minded if Vic stayed over, or I could just chance it that he’s sober enough to drive. The other option is for me to follow him home in my own car to make sure he gets there safely. Crap, what am I going to do?

“This is a great place,” Vic says as we pull up to the curb behind my car. We both exit the truck and Vic walks behind me up to the house. Standing at the front door, I fidget with the door handle, still trying to determine the best course of action.

“You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind. You haven’t said a word to me in ten minutes.” Vic reaches his hand to me, placing it on my lower back. “I’m a good guy. I promise.”

Attempting a smile only makes my chest begin to pound against my ribs.

“I’m not really sure what to do with you,” I admit, and then open the front door.

Vic shrugs and then says, “I can offer a few suggestions if you need some ideas.” He laughs and I shove him off the porch steps.

“Get inside, you drunk horn dog,” I say as I pull him back onto the porch.

Vic straightens and follows me inside, guiding me with his hand on my lower back again, which creates a ring of heat around his fingers. Suppressing a shiver, I close the door and my cheeks begin to flush. Okay, I like Vic, but who am I kidding, I can’t afford to lose myself in him.

Vic wanders through the front rooms of the house, taking in the low-back beige sofa, river rock fireplace, and the maple wood furniture. He sits on the sofa but looks out of place. His height dwarfs the furniture and his long legs make the coffee table look like something that belongs to a toddler.

“You have really short friends,” he says, and pats the cushion beside him.

“I’ll be right back,” I say instead of joining him on the sofa. “I need to text Angie to let her know I made it back.” It is a lie, but the air in the room has suddenly become way too charged with…something that I am not ready for. My purse and phone are where I left them in Angie’s bathroom, and I pull out the rest of my cash and my ID, placing them back in my wallet. Then I pull out the folded picture of Jordan from the club’s bathroom and my heart stills and then sinks to my stomach. He looks so lost in the photograph. He’s paler, thinner, and so far beyond anything I can do to help him. I find myself lightly crying at my realization that I cannot save him. No matter if he were still staying with Gran and me, eventually he would have found his way back into destruction.

“Is everything okay?” The picture falls from my hands as I jump in surprise. Vic bends down, scoops up the photo, and studies it. “What is this?” He hands the picture back to me. It’s all I can do to not tear it up and then scatter the pieces across the room. Instead, tears fall freely and Vic wraps me in his warmth, letting me cry into his shirt.

Chapter 29

By the time my tears stop falling, Vic’s shirt is pretty damp. He held me in his arms, letting me cry for God knows how long without telling me to stop or to grow up. In the mix of my tears for Jordan, tears for Vic’s kindness fell too.

“I’m sorry.” I sniff into his shirt, which smells of musk and some sort of amazing cologne. Vic stares down at me with a loose smile and softness in his eyes and then I realize I’ve probably cried all my eye makeup off. “Oh my gosh,” I say, covering my face quickly to hide my embarrassment.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Don’t do that. You’re even more beautiful than before.” His fingers gently pull at my hands to remove them from my face. I glance up only to see Vic not staring at me in disgust, but there is something more, something deep and tender. His thumbs brush against my cheeks slowly and then below my eyes. “There,” he says with a smile. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sniffing once again, I nod and allow him to lead me back to the sofa, where I prepare to dump the last three years on this man who I barely know.

Vic lies back against the armrest and cradles me close to his side, my back rests against the side of his chest, and our legs tangle together. This feels safe, warm, and as our breathing becomes synchronized, I feel like something about tonight will change me forever. The walls I’ve created are slowly crumbling, like bits of plaster that flick off in the wind. The desire for my rules to stand guard around my heart is fading.

“Take your time,” Vic says as his free hand slides slowly up and down my arm and his other rests on my stomach.

“I don’t even know where to begin.” I sigh, closing my eyes.

“How about the picture. Who was that?”

“Seriously? You don’t know?” Vic doesn’t have to say anything. I can feel the shake of his head to know he doesn’t. “That was Jordan Capshaw…of White Shadow…the band…you really don’t know who he is?”

Vic’s chest rises and falls as he laughs and a part of me wants to turn over to see his face. But that would give me better sight lines to his dimples, and that’s dangerous. Instead, I stay where I am and enjoy the soft petting on my arm and stomach.

“Well, he’s a rather famous rock star.” I proceed to tell Vic about how I found him on the road and took him to Gran’s house. I explain how I’ve had a mad crush on him for years, as well as spill everything that happened since I found him on the street, even how Jordan kissed me. And I had liked it, even though it killed me to drive away from him.

“That picture is recent, you know? He’s destroying himself and there is nothing I can do about it.” I thought I had cried all my tears, but a rogue one finds its way down my cheek.

“None of that is your fault,” Vic says softly into my hair. “You did nothing wrong, and actually, I think you went above and beyond anything you should have done.” His fingers stop at my shoulder and rest there, while his lips press against the top of my head. I close my eyes and savor the feel of his lips on my head and suppress a shiver.

“I know I did all I could, but I wish I could have done more. I’ve been so in love with the guy for so long, it just hurts that I wasn’t enough for him to get better.”

“First of all, I highly doubt what you felt was really love, more like serious infatuation. Secondly, you are enough. You’re
more
than enough. He’s just not thinking right, he may never think right.” He pauses and releases a deep breath. “Wow, giving the girl I like advice about a guy she likes is a first for me.”

“Wait, you like me?” Poking him in the stomach with my finger to tease him seems childish now that I’ve done it. But he doesn’t seem to mind or care. Instead his finger comes to rest under my chin and he lifts my face to his and kisses my forehead softly.

“Yes, I like you.”

Knowing I have more to tell, I offer to get us something to snack on from the kitchen. It’s after eleven, and since neither of us has had anything to drink or eat in a while, a bag of stick pretzels and a two-liter of Sprite will have to do. I grab two coffee cups and a couple napkins and join Vic back on the sofa.

“So I take it that there is more to this story,” Vic says as he shifts positions on the couch and guides me to sit between his legs.

Before I chicken out, or before Vic asks me another question, I let the contents of my heart spill out before him. I lay everything out on the line.

“I was pregnant,” I say, and feel Vic’s chest rise and hold. “When I was seventeen I thought this guy would be the one to get Jordan out of my head. We went out for a while and then one night we got a little drunk after the homecoming dance in October and had sex. It was only one time and for whatever reason I got pregnant. I freaked out, didn’t tell anyone, dumped my boyfriend, and stopped hanging out with my friends. Not even Gran knew. I couldn’t tell her. She would have been so disappointed in me. I was terrified, embarrassed, and completely alone.”

I sniff, wipe my nose with the back of my hand, and take four deep breaths, preparing myself to relive one of the worst times in my life.

“For almost four months I hid everything, blamed the nausea on stress, cried into my pillow, and tried to imagine what I was going to do with a baby. Then one night in January, I was lying in bed and started having the worst stomach pains in my life. I threw up all over my bed and then ran to the bathroom and…” As if on cue, my body begins shaking, my fingers clench into fists, and tears spring from my eyes.

Vic’s arms wrap around me, embracing me tightly. He whispers soothing words in my ear and once again lets me cry.

“God, I’m a mess,” I say, and then swipe my hands over my face. “Vic, the baby, oh God, it fell into the toilet.” Sobs rack through me so fiercely that Vic has to hold me even tighter. Wet tears drop onto my head and I realize Vic, too, is crying, which only makes more tears fall. Through my sobbing, I continue. “The baby was so small, no bigger than my middle finger. I fished it out of the toilet and held it to my chest for what seemed like hours. When the sun began to come up, I had to do something or else Gran would find out. So I cradled the baby in my ruined clothes, cleaned up the bathroom, and then found a box. I buried the baby along with my clothes under one of the great big trees on the ranch.”

Vic continues to let me cry into his chest while he strokes my hair and brushes my arms with his hands. I don’t know how long I cried until I fell asleep, but when I wake up I have to pee so bad I nearly push Vic off the couch. Amazingly, he doesn’t wake up as I climb over him and tiptoe down the hall to the bathroom. One look in the mirror is all it takes for me to want to shove my face into a paper sack and run away. Mascara has run down my cheeks, and my lips and eyes are puffy and red. I look hideous and feel like my whole body has lost all its moisture. Splashing water on my face at least allows me to clean off the mascara and makeup and look somewhat normal.

All the lights are off in the house, which means Angie and Caleb are home too. I hope they don’t mind that Vic and I fell asleep on the couch. A wave of embarrassment washes over me for that, though we didn’t do anything inappropriate. In the kitchen, the clock on the microwave reads four thirteen and I’m feeling wide awake. Nothing like spilling your life story to someone you hardly know to wake you up.

My stomach growls while I’m standing in front of the fridge, so I slowly open it to see if something looks good to snack on. Inside there is some fruit and vegetables, milk, and some other odds and ends. I grab an apple, shut the fridge, and leap away when Vic’s shadow emerges from behind the fridge door.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“You scared the crap out of me,” I answer, holding the apple to my chest. The moon casts light through a kitchen window, silhouetting him in darkness, making his stature seem larger.

“Sorry,” he says with a smile. “I’m going to cut out of here, I’ve got work in the morning.”

My heart sinks as though I’m riding a rollercoaster and the car just dropped. Of course he’s leaving. Why would anyone stick around after what I told him?

“Okay, sorry about last night.” I’m a total mess. Tears are near the surface again for no reason other than I shared something so personal that no one else has ever known, and now he’s clearing out.

Vic steps closer to me, reaches for the apple, and sets it on the counter. He sighs, brings his hand to my chin, and gently pulls my face up to look at him. Even in the dark I can see the pale blue of his eyes and how they scan my face.

“I’m not running away, Jemma.” Vic’s other hand runs down my arm and stops at my waist, pulling me into him. “I really do need to get home and get ready for work. I need to be at the station by seven and I’ve got an hour’s drive to get home.”

His arms wrap around me, engulfing me in his warmth and musky smell. He rests his chin on the top of my head and squeezes me tightly.

“Do you have plans on Tuesday?” he asks.

“Tuesday?” I look up at him, and in doing so, cause his lips to brush down my forehead, sending a flash of heat through me.

“It’s my day off and I wanted to take you out on a proper date.”

“This isn’t just some pity date, is it?”

Vic brushes his lips, feather light, down my cheek and whispers, “No.”

“But I don’t date. At least I shouldn’t date.”

His lips brush over my cheek and rest on the side of my lips, and it’s taking all my self-control not to turn my head mere centimeters and kiss him.

“So that’s a no?” he asks, sliding his lips away.

I let out a tiny sigh in protest before answering. “It’s a yes. Now will you please kiss me?”

Vic smiles against my cheek and drops his arms. “Sorry, no can do. Kissing is reserved for dates.”

What?
“You’re kidding, right?”

He laughs, gives me a quick peck on the cheek, and gathers his wallet and keys. “I’ll see you Tuesday,” he says as he slips out the front door, leaving me wondering what the heck just happened.

On my drive back home, my phone beeps. It’s a text from Vic telling me to be ready for our date on Tuesday by eight in the morning and to dress casually but to bring a light jacket. I’m not sure what he has planned, and it is three days away, but I can feel my stomach winding tightly in nervousness and excitement.