Respect

by Jay Crownover

  I’d forced myself to become bulletproof. Noah Booker had seen to that.

  He shattered me. Left me in a million pieces. All of them fragile and tender to the touch.

  Turning around, looking at what had been my home for the past four years, I realized that the apartment was too quiet and too empty. There was too much space for my mind to wander, and I didn’t have anything else to focus on. The reins to yank my thoughts back from the brink were nonexistent.

  It had been four years and I still saw Booker with those girls every time I closed my eyes. I heard him saying I was anything but easy, and the woman who walked me to the door calling me a little girl. The scene still made my guts churn and caused my head to throb.

  I should be over it. I knew that. I told myself that very thing no less than five times a day.

  It was a crush that spiraled out of control and consumed me. Booker never promised me anything or even gave so much as a hint that there would ever be an us. I built him up in my head into some kind of mythical creation that would right everything that was wrong in my world, the way Race did for Brysen. I’d foisted all my hopes and dreams onto his broad shoulders, without him even realizing it and without stopping to consider he might not want that responsibility.

  I screwed up and I was still dealing with the fallout. No matter how many young men I had dated, or how successful I had been in other areas of my life, I couldn’t escape the confines of the memories that held me hostage in that doorway four years ago. It was nearly impossible to recover when all your foolish dreams died. It was stupid. It made me feel weak and immature, but I was stuck and I hadn’t figured out the thing that would finally set me free.

  I aimlessly stacked a few boxes closer to the front door. Ari’s TV was gone, and I missed having something to turn on for background noise. I figured I could use my laptop and stream something while I forced myself to pack. Brysen would track me down and come get me if I wasn't on that flight tomorrow, and I owed her more than that. Distancing myself from her and the life she was building back home had been the hardest part of walking away from my former life.

  Tying my hair up in a knot on the top of my head, I wandered down the hallway that was now barren. I counted my steps to keep focused and to keep myself from thinking about him. It was annoying that he was always there, hovering on the periphery. Physically I had grown . . . mentally, I still often felt like the newly eighteen-year-old girl pining after Booker. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but mine felt like it was still wide open and bleeding all over the place. Every time I thought it was starting to scab over at the edges, something would happen, some memory would resurface, and it was ripped open once again. The ache was a familiar part of me now.

  Ari had left her bedroom door open and that pang I’d felt watching her drive away hit me again. I was going to miss her sunny smile and infectious laughter. I was going to be lonely without her filling up the space we shared with her huge personality and sharp wit. I spent so much time trying to figure out who I was and what in the hell I was doing, it was refreshing to be around someone so comfortable in their skin. I’d learned a lot from Ari over the years, and hopefully, she’d picked up some street smarts and a little savvy from me in return—especially where Troy was involved.

  My door was shut. I was hiding the fact that hardly any of my personal belongings were packed away yet. It felt so final. Once my clothes, jewelry, and books were all in boxes, it meant I had to decide where it was all going and I wasn’t ready to make that call. It would be so nice to know where I belonged. I was so sick of being the square peg trying to cram myself into a round hole.

  Knowing I couldn’t hide away forever, I twisted the knob and pushed open my bedroom door. The momentum pulled me forward and right into the arms of someone waiting on the other side. Belatedly, I realized the light was off and we’d left the front door wide open when we walked down to Ari’s car. I knew better. An unlocked door was practically an open invitation to let any manner of creeper into your space.

  I opened my mouth to scream, my hands lifting to claw at the intruder’s eyes and face. I might not have been in the Point anymore, but I still remembered every single lesson Race drilled into my head when it came to self-defense. I knew how to fight back and that’s exactly what I was going to do . . . until a familiar, deep, and raspy voice said my name.

  “Karsen.”

  It was just my name, nothing special or unique about it. But the man who said it, the one holding me so close while I screamed, kicked, and clawed, he’d been the most special person in my entire world. Until he wasn’t. Until he didn’t want to be any longer. Until he made himself crystal clear.

  “Booker.” I got his name out on a gasp and was immediately released. I would have fallen to the floor if his large, scarred hands hadn’t reached out and locked around my upper arms. He reacted as if the simple touch burned him, because he dropped me a second later and I had to grab the door to keep myself on my feet.

  It had been so long . . . too long . . . but still not long enough. It was never going to be long enough.

  Before I could think about what I was doing or why I was doing it, I balled my hand into a fist and swung at his face. Obviously, he wasn't expecting the attack because he didn’t move or bother to block the strike. Instead, I clocked him on the cheek, which whipped his head to the side. My fingers stung as I shook them out and his dark-gray eyes glittered with something dangerous as he lifted his fingers to the reddening spot.

  “That’s one way to say hello.” The rough timbre of his voice still had the power to make my knees weak and send shivers racing down my spine.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “I’m about to say goodbye. Get out of my apartment . . . Now.” I wasn't ready for him, not now, not ever.

  He shook his head and I noticed his dark hair now had threads of silver through it at the temples. He was twenty-six when we met, twenty-eight when he broke my heart, which meant he was now in his early thirties. Young for silver hair, but considering how many times he’d almost died while I lived in the Point—who knows how many more times that’d happened since I left—his aging prematurely made sense.

  “Karsen.” My name again, but there was so much he wasn’t saying in that simple acknowledgement.

  “I’m serious. Get out, Booker. There’s a reason I’ve been gone for four years . . . that’s you. I never want to see you again.” I wanted to shove him out the door and put my foot in his ass, but he was too damn big.

  Slowly, he shook his head, mouth set in a hard line, steely eyes unflinching as he told me. “I’m not going anywhere.” I shivered and instinctively took a step backward. “I’ve waited long enough.”

  I blinked stupidly and tried to follow where he was going. My senses were all scrambled from being this close to him after such a long time. “Waited long enough for what?” I sounded as confused as I felt.

  His eyes sharpened and narrowed. His mouth quirked into something that may have been a grin on a less-imposing man. The scarred eyebrow danced upward as he took a step toward me, his intent shining bright and clear in his eyes. “For you. I’ve waited long enough for you, Karsen.”

  Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.

  ~ Marcus Aurelius

  Booker

  I was a man who had made a lot of mistakes in my life. I bore scars I couldn’t and wouldn’t hide. I learned to live with the consequences and repercussions from those poor decisions. I’d long ago accepted my life was going to be a certain way due to my choices, no matter how desperately I wished for something different.

  The biggest mistake, the one haunting me, the one eating away at what little soul I had left, was currently standing in front of me. She was looking at me like she wanted to rip my balls off and feed them to me. She also had a killer right hook. I should know. I was the one who taught her how to throw it. Race gave her the basics, but I taught her how to fight dirty and mean.

  Unfort
unately, I knew all too well I was the one who put the vacant, empty look in her tawny-colored eyes. I always liked her eyes. They were a hundred different shades of brown from nearly black to gold. They were the one part of her that fit in with the Point. Wild, expressive, demanding, and longing, her gaze always gave her away. It didn’t matter that the rest of her looked like she should be on the Disney Channel singing songs about princes and falling in love with love. Her eyes told you that there was more to Karsen Carter than you could ever imagine. I’d always seen more than I was supposed to when I looked at her. It was a mistake, one I knew was going to pay dearly for when the people who protected her found out I couldn’t stay away any longer. However, I was beyond worrying about the fallout for caring about this girl, no . . . this young woman.

  I didn’t lie.

  I had waited for her long enough.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and I noticed how much she had changed in the four years she’d been gone.

  She still had the long-legged, lean look that always brought to mind Taylor Swift. Something I’d overheard others say, so assumed was accurate. She was taller than when I last stood face to face with her, and her hair was longer now. It fell in long, platinum waves to her mid-back. And her face had narrowed, losing some of the youthful roundness that always made her appear so soft and innocent. Her multi-hued eyes were still alight with life and defiance. They were the only feature setting her apart from any other coed on campus. Anyone paying attention to those eyes would see this girl was so much older and wiser than her paltry twenty-two years.

  At the moment, those amazing eyes were practically glowing with inner fire as she glared at me, clearly not as interested in this reunion as I was. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her everything, but I couldn’t—I wouldn’t do that to her. Girls like Karsen believed in heroes and happily ever afters. I refused to be the one to take her optimism away from her. She didn’t need to know that people who shined so brightly in her world weren’t stars that lit up the night sky, but rather falling stars on their way to burning out before they crashed into Earth, just like the rest of us.

  “You’ve been waiting for me?” Her voice was sharp as she bit out a laugh so bitter and broken I could feel the edges of it against my skin. “Waited for me to do what, Booker? Grow up? Wake up? Waited for me to forget?” She sucked in a breath and put a shaking hand to the center of her chest. “Because hell will freeze over before that happens. I never wanted to see you again. I never went back because I never, ever wanted to see you again. Surely you had to realize that. You need to leave. I don’t want you anywhere near me.” Her hands moved in front of her as if she was subconsciously trying to ward me off.

  I was a bad guy. But I’d never hurt her . . . at least, not physically. I wasn’t any kind of threat to her, regardless of the way I approached her unannounced.

  I knew if I had simply knocked on her door she wouldn’t have answered.

  Her words sliced through me and her defensive actions nearly brought me to my knees. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but I couldn’t stay away anymore. I had to see her, even if it was the last time. I didn’t care if coming after her was signing my death warrant. I didn't care that she was still too good for me, too innocent and sweet. I wasn’t worried I made her hate me. I was used to people feeling that way about me. She was the only one who had ever loved me. Which was why watching her walk away had almost killed me.

  In my life, I’d been shot, stabbed, beaten, and tortured. I couldn’t remember any of those things hurting as much as seeing the damage I did to Karsen up close and personal. I knew I was going to break her heart. I didn’t have a choice. But seeing the long-term effects of my actions still clinging to her, lingering with her, it burned somewhere deep inside of me. I felt it right next to the place that had been empty and hollow the second she left.

  I lifted a hand and ran my fingers over my scar. It was a bad habit, one I mostly controlled, unless I was extremely anxious over something. There wasn’t much in this world that pushed me toward my nervous twitch. The young blonde in front of me was—and would always be—the exception to the rule. Even when she was way too young to make me nervous, I still found myself touching my face as a reminder there were some mistakes that stuck with you forever.

  Realizing I needed to rein in this situation, I dropped back a step so she wasn’t as crowded and tried to relax my always rigid and alert stance. When you were nearly six-and-a-half-feet tall and built to take beatings and bullets, looking nonthreatening wasn’t exactly an option. The slender young woman watching me like a hawk was the only one who ever acted like she saw something beyond the battle scars and armor I showed to the rest of the world.

  “I know I hurt you . . .” It was lame. Weak. But it was also true. I knew I hurt her. I meant to. It was the only way to get her to go. It was the only way to give Race what he wanted. It was the only way to keep my ass out of jail. But she’d had time—four years, to be exact—she’d had space, she lived a whole life without me or the Point in it. I was hoping the distance may have brought clarity, the realization I would never have done what I did without a damn good reason. But looking at her furious face, I understood I’d been existing on wishful thinking and false hope for far too long.

  Karsen’s pale eyebrows shot up and her pretty, pink mouth dropped open like the hinges on her jaw had suddenly stopped working. Another one of those ugly laughs that shouldn’t come from such a pretty girl shot out of her mouth. Slowly, her head shook back and forth as if she couldn’t believe I not only had the audacity to sneak into her home, but to speak of our shared history in such simple terms.

  “You did not hurt me, Booker.” She pointed a shaking finger at my stinging face. I was going to have a bruise and probably a partial shiner. I was proud of her for defending herself. I was glad living in a place where she could breathe without choking on pollution and corruption hadn’t made her soft or complacent. “You annihilated me. The girl I was before doesn’t exist anymore, and that sucks, because she was pretty damn special.”

  I blinked at her in confusion.

  She looked the same. Older, slightly more polished and pulled together, but she was still the same stunning girl I’d been carefully dancing my way around since she was sixteen. “Who are you now?”

  She scoffed at me and rolled her eyes. “I’m a girl who’s homesick—and a woman who’s sick of my home—all because you’re there. I’ve wished every day for the past four years that I’d never met you.”

  Ouch. Direct hit.

  Most of the people I encountered on a daily basis felt that way about me, but not her. Before I’d done what I did, Karsen always went out of her way to make sure everyone in her life knew just how happy she was to see me and spend time with me. If only she’d been older, or I’d been younger, things would never have been as tenuous and complicated between us. Our timing was never right, but now, time was up. I had to see her before I finally let her go for good.

  I wanted to reach for her but had a feeling she would run—or punch me again—if I did. Instead, I plowed aggravated fingers through my hair and looked down at the floor. I was not a contrite person. I did not apologize, because I rarely felt sorry for the shit I did. I lived a hard life and people got hurt. It was just the way it was, but I never wanted Karsen to be a casualty. If I had a choice, I would have prevented it, but I didn’t, so here we were.

  “But we did meet. And there is no going back for either of us. I won’t ever forget you, and I know you haven’t forgotten me.” The refrain had echoed in my head for the last four years. She might hate me, but she was never going to forget me. I could work with it. I’d made do with less most of my life.

  “I can try. What do you think I’ve been doing for the last four years?” She tilted her delicate nose in the air and looked down at me haughtily. That was new. She never pulled the ice queen act before. It was something I wondered if she’d learned from her sister. Brysen had icy down pat.

&nb
sp; I sighed and rolled my head to the side until my neck cracked. The noise was loud, sounding almost like a gunshot in the quiet room. I watched her eyes widen, and because she could never hide anything in those eyes, I saw a flash of concern battle against the anger in her gaze.

  “You were supposed to love your new life.” My voice was low, the rasp more pronounced than usual. “You were supposed to find someone who made you happy, something that put a smile on your face. You were supposed to build a life that was shiny and fulfilling. You were supposed to do anything but miss home and everything you left behind.” Race was determined that she had a way out, that she got to see what else was out there. He wanted her to have a chance at something more, something better, even though she never asked for more than she already had.

  Her teeth snapped together and I could hear her molars grinding. Her hands curled into fists and she took a jerky step forward. I was tempted to let her hit me again if it meant she was close enough to touch. I wanted her hands on me any way I could get them. I’d finally given myself permission to show her all the things I’d always seen while looking at her . . . and I was more than likely going to end up six-feet under for the reveal.

  “Have you been watching me? How do you know my life isn’t exactly the way I want it? What has Race told you?” Her spine stiffened and her shoulders straightened.

  She was ready to do battle, but she was the last person I wanted to fight. I was tired of constantly being at war with everything and everyone in my life. I was ready to wave the white flag and surrender, but it wouldn’t get me anywhere with this girl. She wouldn’t respect weakness.

  “Race doesn’t tell me shit. I don’t talk to him. I don’t have anything to do with him, and I know things here aren’t anything like your family thought they’d be . . . because if they were, you would be staying instead of fighting against everything inside of you begging to go back. You miss home, but you won’t let yourself plan a future there, even if that’s what you really want. You’re scared, Karsen. Scared the Point forgot all about you and doesn’t need you anymore. Here it doesn’t matter. Here, no one cares if you’re around to make things better because there are a thousand other idealists ready to stand up for what's right.” I smirked and drawled, “Of course I haven’t been watching you.” If I had, there was no way in hell I would have been able to stay away from her. I would’ve chased away and beat the fuck out of every frat boy and hipster who hit on her. I would’ve forced her to figure out what made her happy so she wasn’t simply going through the motions and living the life Race wanted for her instead of one she fought for herself. But just because I wasn’t watching, didn’t mean I didn’t have eyes on every single move she made.