Never Let You Go (Never #2)

by Monica Murphy

  “Let me grab my purse.” I open the door wider, indicating he should come in and he does, his spicy clean scent lingering in the air as he walks past me. Taking a deep breath, I let the door close, watching him as he goes straight toward the window, peering outside at the city before us.

  The sky is at that perfect moment of twilight, when it’s not quite fully dark, but not really light, either. It’s an almost velvety mix of blue and purple. The stars should be just making their appearance, though I really don’t spot any now. The city lights are too bright.

  “The sky reminds me of your eyes.”

  Grabbing my phone, I pause, surprised at his words. “Really?” I squeak like an idiot and I briefly close my eyes, shake my head. Thank God he can’t see me.

  He doesn’t answer me. Instead he shoves his hands into his front pockets, scanning the city spread out before us. I start to go for my purse, practically tiptoeing behind him. He seems on edge, upset still, and I’m not quite sure what to say.

  “You have a better view,” he finally says, never turning away from the window. “I can almost see Alcatraz from here.”

  I halt in grabbing my purse, watching him as he continues to stand there. Tall, immovable, his shoulders wide, his legs slightly spread, as if he’s braced and ready for battle. The anger and frustration seem to vibrate from his body, and I’m tempted to go to him and offer him comfort.

  But I’m not sure if comfort is what he wants.

  He glances over his shoulder, his dark, intense gaze pinning me in place. “Do you think if my father got put up at Alcatraz, he would’ve found a way to escape?”

  I shrug, wondering where he’s going with this. “I’m not sure,” I say hesitantly. “He hasn’t tried to escape where he’s at now.” San Quentin State Prison is where they hold all men who’ve been condemned to death in the state.

  “Yes he has.” He turns to face me, his expression grim. “Once, four years ago.”

  My mouth drops open. I would have been . . . seventeen. I don’t remember hearing about this. “How do you know?”

  “They notified me.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “He was stopped before it ever got too far. He wasn’t even officially missing. They just found evidence that he was planning an escape and they wanted to keep me informed.”

  I wonder if they notified my parents. I’m going to guess yes, but they never thought it necessary to let me know. But why? Were they afraid I’d freak out? Probably.

  “Was he punished?”

  “He was put in solitary confinement and they kept a close watch on him. I don’t think they consider him a threat any longer. He’s an old man, starting to panic now that his execution date is drawing near.”

  “What would you do if he ever escaped?” I ask, my voice low, my heart in my throat. I don’t know what I would do. San Quentin is maximum security. Not many inmates have escaped or even attempted to escape that prison.

  A prison that’s just north of San Francisco, meaning it’s not very far from here or where I live.

  The thought sends an icy shiver down my spine.

  “Arm myself with as many weapons as possible and wait for him. He knows my address now. He could find me easily.”

  “Do you think he’d try?”

  “I don’t know, Katie, and I really don’t want to talk about him anymore.” He approaches me, resting his hands lightly on my shoulders, his gaze never leaving mine. “Let’s go out to dinner and talk about . . . nothing that has to do with today or our past or any of that. Let’s talk about now. Or tomorrow. The future. Just nothing to do with you and me and eight years ago and my father.” He grazes his thumbs along the base of my neck, a gentle touch that warms my skin, and my lips part on a soft gasp. His touch feels so good.

  Too good. Too real. Making me want more . . .

  “Are you okay with that?” He bends his knees a little, so he can look directly into my eyes. His hands are still on my shoulders, his thumbs still touching my throat. I’m held captive by his gaze, his touch, his voice. Everything about him grabs hold of me and refuses to let go.

  I nod, unable to speak past the sudden lump in my throat. He looks relieved, pulling me close so he can press his mouth to my forehead. I close my eyes, savoring the touch of his lips on my skin, his nearness, the tenderness in his gesture. But I can also feel the restrained hunger, the need he has for me.

  And I want to give in.

  We exit the large front doors of the hotel and start walking, in search of a restaurant nearby. We’re right in the middle of downtown; there has to be quality dining around. Plus, I don’t feel like driving my car through a city I’m unfamiliar with.

  My mood is still dark. Going to the hotel gym helped. Taking a long shower and standing under the hot spray of water while I jerked off helped, too. But it still didn’t take off the edge. Just dulled it a little bit.

  “Are you in the mood for anything in particular?” I ask, glancing in her direction.

  Katie’s keeping pace, walking beside me, the lights shining on her dark blond head and making her hair look brighter. “Not really. Are you?”

  You, I want to tell her. I’m in the mood for you.

  I’ve been patient. Respectful—because I want to be, not just because I think it’s the right thing to do. She needed her space. I fucked with her head; it’s the least I can do.

  But after everything I’ve endured today, for the least few days, weeks, months—hell, fucking years—I feel like I’m about to break. Seeing her so soft and uninhibited, being in her hotel room like I was only a few minutes ago, I wanted her. The bed called to me and instantly I imagined myself pushing her onto the mattress. But I only allowed myself to touch her gently, my fingers on her neck, my lips pressed to her forehead. All I could think was that I wanted to take.

  Take whatever Katie would let me have.

  “I don’t care,” I finally say to her. “I’m so hungry I could go for anything.”

  “Me too. I haven’t really eaten anything today,” she admits.

  “You must be starving.”

  “I am.” She smiles up at me and at that exact moment someone passing by bumps into her shoulder, sending her knocking into me. I grab hold of her, gripping her arm and keeping her steady.

  “You all right?”

  She nods. “I’m fine.” Though she does appear a little agitated.

  I think the city and all of the people who inhabit it make her nervous. She doesn’t go out much, having chosen to keep herself fairly secluded most of her adult life. She keeps looking around warily, still clutching my arm, tracking everyone who passes us by.

  “They’re not going to jump you,” I murmur close to her ear and she tilts her head toward me, a secret smile on her face.

  “Too many people make me anxious,” she admits.

  “What a surprise.”

  Her head jerks up, eyes wide with shock. “You say you don’t want to talk about it, so you’ll just give me a hard time instead?”

  “Sorry,” I mutter because it was an asshole thing for me to say and she called me out on it, which I deserved.

  We don’t speak, the bustle of the crowd silencing us, forcing us to pay attention. We pass a few delis and coffee shops, a bakery that’s closed. I don’t want something quick and easy, and I don’t think Katie does, either, or else she could have suggested going into any of the places we just passed.

  I want to sit down and have an actual meal. Maybe with a candle on the table, casting Katie in flickering golden light, a little mood music playing in the background while we eat. If that makes me a romantic, then so be it. The only person I want to be romantic with is Katie.

  The heart wants what it wants, or whatever that bullshit line is.

  We stop in front of a Japanese restaurant. The crowd of people waiting outside to get a table makes me think that’s a good sign. “This place looks popular.”

  “Mmm.” She makes a noncommittal noise and lets go of my arm, heading to the open doorwa
y where a menu is posted on the wall. I follow, stopping directly behind her. Unable to resist, I rest my hands on her shoulders lightly, reading the menu along with her.

  “You like sushi?” I ask.

  She shrugs, and my hands rise with the movement but I don’t remove them. It’s like I can’t. I’m drawn to her tonight. More than usual. We feel . . . different together. Like we’re not Ethan and Katherine with the heavy burden of our pasts weighing us down. “I’ve never had sushi before.”

  “Seriously?” Even with my shitty, broke-ass upbringing eating mac-n-cheese or ramen every other night for dinner, I eventually discovered sushi.

  “I’ve tried to warn you. I’m one of those annoying sheltered kids.” She turns her head, smiling up at me. “I’d like to try it.”

  “I’ll go put our name in,” I tell her.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  I take her hand as we walk inside, keeping her close as I pull her through the tight crowd. Just inside, the hostess waits behind a sleek metal stand, busily flipping through a schedule book and ignoring the ringing phone sitting directly in front of her. I don’t utter a word, I’m fairly certain she’s not even aware of our presence, yet she holds up one long, elegantly manicured finger. Her nail polish is bloodred, matching the shade of her lipstick. “One moment, please,” she murmurs as she answers the phone.

  As I wait for her to finish the call, I glance around, taking in the interior. It has a clean, modern industrial feel to it, with steel-paneled walls and giant pipes crisscrossing the ceiling. The lighting is dim, the bar near the hostess stand packed, and though I can’t see beyond into the dining area, I’m sure it’s full, too.

  “How can I help you?” the hostess asks coolly after she hangs up the phone.

  “Do you have a table for two available?”

  She scans the book in front of her, her mouth turned down in a frown. “I’m afraid not—oh! We have a spot at the sushi bar.” Glancing up, she grimaces. “It’s crowded, though. You’ll have to sit next to each other really close.”

  Sounds perfect to me. I turn to check with Katie and she nods her approval.

  “We’ll take it.”

  The hostess leads us to the sushi bar, where two chairs right next to each other are empty. One butts right up against the wall and I let go of Katie’s hand, ushering her to that one before I sit next to her. The hostess hands us our menus, then leaves.

  “What do you recommend?” Katie asks as she scans the menu. A strand of hair falls across her cheek as she reads and she tucks it behind her ear, her fingers sliding along the curve of her ear, ending up at her lobe, where she absently plays with the pearl stud earring she’s wearing.

  I stare at her, mesmerized. I could watch her do that all day, which is fucking ridiculous but true. It’s the tiniest things I notice, those small moments I want to keep imbedded in my memory so I don’t forget.

  Don’t forget her, or this night, here in a sushi restaurant in downtown San Francisco, sitting so close together our knees brush and I can feel the warmth from her body seeping into mine.

  Realizing I’m staring, I go over the various items on the menu, pointing out a few sushi rolls I’ve had in the past at other restaurants.

  “Do you like it hot? Spicy?” I ask her.

  She scrunches up her nose and shakes her head, her mouth pursed in a cute pout. “Not really. I’m sort of a wimp when it comes to hot stuff.”

  “So no wasabi for you.” I grab my still-wrapped chopsticks and point them at the clump of wasabi and ginger on the square white plate the waitress just placed in front of me. Katie stares warily at her own plate, a little sneer curling her upper lip.

  “What can I get you two to drink?” the waitress asks.

  I order sake for both of us, and a vegetable tempura appetizer and a dragon roll for us to share. Spend a few minutes trying to teach her how to use chopsticks, which she fails miserably at, and watch as she takes her first sip of sake, making that adorable scrunched-nose face again as she shakes her head.

  “It’s so strong.” She takes a big drink of her water and I watch her. Her shiny pink lips as they curve around the glass, the elegant line of her throat when she swallows. I briefly curl my hands into fists, resting them on the table in front of me so I don’t do something stupid like reach out and grab her.

  “You don’t like it?” I knock back my entire small glass in one swallow, then give myself a refill with the pitcher our waitress left for us. “I like the way it makes me feel numb.”

  She stares at me, her lips parted, her eyes full of sadness and worry. I said the wrong damn thing. I shouldn’t have said that. She doesn’t need to know numbing myself is the only way I can get through this night without touching her.

  I don’t want to feel a damn thing tonight. And being with Katie like this, all I can do is feel. The alluring warmth that seems to radiate from her body, the scent of her hair and perfume. She looked gorgeous earlier during the interview, in the dark gray dress that fit her like a glove, skimming her curves. Curves I’ve had my hands on, a body that I wish I could lose myself in again . . .

  Within minutes our appetizer arrives and we dive in, the two of us devouring as much as we can, not giving conscious thought to the fact that we still have an entire sushi roll coming for us. Katie keeps dropping her vegetables onto her plate, still unable to master the chopsticks. The waitress reappears minutes later with our sushi roll and when Katie tries to pluck a piece off the platter it slips from her chopsticks, falling apart all over her plate.

  She laughs. “I’m an epic fail.”

  “A cute epic fail,” I amend, taking another swig of my sake. My head is buzzing. My body is warm. I’m definitely feeling no pain.

  Her laughter dies. “You really think so?”

  This girl . . . she’s going to drive me insane. “You’re beautiful, Katie.” I pause and she looks down, her teeth catching her lower lip. “Has no one ever told you that before?”

  She slowly lifts her head, those big blue eyes about to be my undoing. “Only you ever have.”

  “Well, everyone’s fucking blind then.” I grab my sake glass and urge her to do the same, which she does. “Let’s toast to your beauty.”

  “Ethan . . .” Her voice drifts and for one odd moment, I want her to call me Will again. I don’t feel like a worthless shit when Katie calls me Will. I feel like a better man, like Katie’s fucking hero when she says my real name. Now Ethan feels strange.

  Doesn’t feel like me.

  “To Katie and her beautiful face.” I raise my glass but she doesn’t. I keep going. “To her beautiful body. Her beautiful soul, her beautiful heart—her beautiful everything. Who despite every stupid, hurtful, horrible thing I’ve done to her, is still here. With me. I don’t deserve her.” I wave my glass, indicating again that I want her to pick hers up.

  She finally does, tentatively lifting it into the air, close to mine. “Don’t say tha—”

  “Why not?” I ask, cutting her off. “It’s true, Katie. I don’t deserve you.” I clink my glass to hers and then bring mine to my lips. “Bottoms up,” I mumble before I knock it back.

  Katie takes a delicate sip from her glass before setting it on the table. She’s turned back into the prim and proper girl, unsure how to behave. “I think you’re drunk.”

  “I hope to hell I’m drunk. Then maybe I can forget for one night.” I grab the pitcher to refill my glass, but it’s empty. And there’s no waitress in sight.

  She frowns. “Forget what?”

  “That I’m not allowed to touch you, that I can’t have you ever again. But I’ll take whatever scraps you want to give me, though deep down, it’ll never be enough.” Pissed that I revealed so much, I take Katie’s glass and polish off the last of the sake, pretending for the moment that I just tasted her by placing my lips on the same exact spot she drank from only moments ago.

  I’m a fucked-up, pitiful mess. Hopelessly gone over a girl.

  A girl who can�
�t trust me. A girl who shouldn’t trust me. I’ll only hurt her again. It’s what I do. I push everyone away, just like she does.

  We’re more alike than we ever want to admit, Katie and I. Moving aimlessly through life with no real purpose. Lonely. So fucking lonely. For a brief, shining moment we had each other and we thought that would be enough.

  Though I always knew it would end. I’m the liar. I’m the one who fucked up on her and she can’t forgive me. I’ve blown my chance. Blown the only chance I had at happiness.

  At love.

  And I don’t know how to change it.

  His behavior is throwing me off. Making me uneasy. The sake isn’t helping matters, but it’s also keeping him . . . honest. Almost painfully so.

  “We should order more sake.” He sits up straighter, raising his arm to wave down the waitress, and I reach for him, my hands landing on his chest as I try to gain some control over him.

  “We should ask for the check,” I tell him, relieved when the waitress comes over to us.

  “You two doing okay?” she asks sweetly.

  “Just the check, please,” I say at the exact moment Ethan requests more sake. I shake my head and smile at the waitress, hoping she understands. “We don’t really need any more sake.”

  The waitress offers me a quick smile and nods. “I’ll be right back.”

  I release my grip on his chest and sit back in my seat. The loss I feel after not touching him is strong. Ridiculous. I reach for my purse and take out my wallet.

  He shakes his head. “No. I’m paying. I’m the one who asked you to dinner.”

  “That’s fine,” I agree. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His gaze turns darker and he reaches out, resting his hand on my knee, curling his fingers around it. “I would do anything for you, Katie.”

  His hand slides up to my thigh and I release a shaky breath. “I know.”

  “Anything you want, I’ll give you. Just name it.”

  There are so many things I could say. An entire list of all the things I want, only from him. “We should get you back to the hotel,” I say softly, regretting the disappointment I see flicker in his eyes.