Loves Me NOT: A Small Town, Second-Chance Romance (Slade Brothers Book 4)

by Alexis Winter

  I chuckle under my breath. “Well, I would’ve liked to, but someone had to go to college,” I say, leaving out all the gory details about prom and our breakup.

  Destiny kicks me under the table and I can’t do anything but laugh.

  “Destiny, you know better,” her mother says, scolding her. “Well, maybe it’s for the best. Now you’re both more mature. You’ve left this town, seen what the world has to offer. Now you’re back. Ready to pick up where you left off, I hope.” She smiles and shoots me a wink.

  “Mama, this isn’t really appropriate dinner conversation,” Destiny says before I can say anything.

  “Oh, well excuse me for trying to find out the boy’s intentions. Someone’s gotta do it now that Daddy is under the weather.”

  Destiny shakes her head. “No one needs to know intentions. Wyatt and I are just . . . hanging out, getting to know each other again. That’s all. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen is up to fate.”

  Mrs. Parker points at Destiny’s plate. “All right, now eat. You’re too skinny. Don’t you think she’s too skinny, Wyatt?”

  I glance over, letting my eyes look her up and down. “She’s always beautiful to me, Mrs. Parker.”

  “Of course she’s always beautiful . . . but still, too skinny.”

  The rest of the dinner goes smoothly, with Mrs. Parker excusing herself to help her husband with his dinner in his bedroom. Destiny and I take it upon ourselves to clean up the kitchen. She washes while I dry and put away.

  I put away the last dish and turn to see her draining the sink. “What do you say we go up to our secret little hideout?” I ask, referring to the barn. At my house, we went to my old treehouse. At her house, we went up to the loft in the barn. Her dad always kept it furnished for any helping hand he hired on who needed a place to stay.

  She smiles up at me. “I haven’t been up there in so long.”

  I keep the ends of the towel in my hands, but swing it out so it lands around her head. I pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Let’s go.”

  I pull away quickly, heading for the back door.

  “Hold on,” she says. Moments later, she’s right next to me with a bottle of whiskey.

  I laugh. “That isn’t the one we drank and filled with water, is it?”

  She shrugs. “It might be. Only one way to find out.”

  We head outside and into the barn, where we climb the stairs to the top. Upstairs, she opens the doors to let in some light. Even though the sun is going down, it still leaves us with more than enough light. I take a seat at the table and she comes to sit beside me, placing the bottle between us.

  “Do the honors?” she asks.

  I let out a long breath but take the bottle. I open it, tossing the cap out of the barn.

  She gasps, eyes wide with surprise.

  I shrug. “There isn’t much in here. Let’s just finish it,” I say tipping back the bottle. I suck down a long gulp, then pull the bottle away and cough. “Nope, this is the real stuff,” I say, answering my earlier question.

  “Good.” She smiles and takes the bottle, allowing herself a small sip. “Want to play a game?”

  “Sure. What’d you have in mind?”

  “Twenty questions. For every question you don’t want to answer, you have to take a drink and lose a piece of clothing.”

  I laugh and rub my hands together in excitement. “Yes! I’m not answering anything.”

  She laughs. “You just really wanna be naked, huh?”

  “Oh yeah, I didn’t think about what you’d be wearing. Okay. You go first.”

  She laughs and shakes her head, then asks, “How many women, not including me, have you had sex with?”

  My brows shoot up in surprise. “Like . . . in my whole life?”

  She nods.

  “I didn’t exactly keep count,” I tell her. “Probably 10?”

  Her eyes double in size.

  “How many for you, not including me?”

  “A few,” she says, playing with the label on the bottle.

  I point at her. “Not good enough. I need a number.”

  She rolls her eyes then picks up the bottle. She takes a sip before kicking off her shoes.

  “That many, huh?” I tease her.

  “You have me beat, I’ll tell you that much. All these years we’ve been apart, did you ever think of me and wonder what I was doing?”

  “Are you crazy? Yes! I thought of you every single motherfucking day and it killed me. I remember one time specifically. I was in Jamaica, and I was drunk out of my mind. I was lying on the beach, watching the waves in the dark, alone. I looked up at the moon, and for some reason, wondered if you were looking at it too.”

  She smiles as she looks at me from beneath her lashes.

  “How often did you check me out on Facebook?” I ask.

  She scoffs. “Like almost every day,” she answers, moving her head from side to side. “Well, every few days anyway. I wanted to see where you were, what you were up to, who you were with. Did you ever look at my Facebook?” she asks.

  “Nope,” I confess right away.

  “No?” she asks, confused.

  “Hell no. I was afraid to. I thought for sure I’d find you married with kids or some shit. I didn’t want to take away the small bit of hope I had left.”

  “I can’t believe you never looked.” She bites her lower lip.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Is that your question?” She raises one brow.

  I nod.

  “It drove me crazy that you were out there, living your best life. I mean, it looked way better than mine. So I kind of tricked myself into believing that you were looking at my page as much as I was looking at yours. I remember taking a picture and asking myself, ‘Is it good enough for Wyatt to see?’ Every picture I posted was because I thought you’d like it.” Her cheeks start to turn pink.

  “Well, when I got back to town and found out you were here, too, I may have checked out your page. And you’re right, I liked every picture on there. Who was with you in that one picture of you in a park?”

  Her eyes light up. “Oh, my friend Benny took that one.”

  “Benny?”

  She nods. “He was my roommate.”

  “You had a guy for a roommate?”

  “He was gay, so yeah,” she laughs.

  I grab the bottle of whiskey that’s been forgotten on the table. “Do we really need to keep the game going? I’m thirsty.”

  She laughs and motions for me to take a swig.

  “Prom?”

  “Total drunken accident,” I answer with a straight face.

  “If we hadn’t broken up when we did, what do you think our lives would’ve looked like right now?” she asks.

  I take another sip as I think it over. I’ve imagined it a million times over the years. “We would’ve gotten married right out of high school if it were up to me. You would’ve done some online classes or whatever to get your degree, and I would’ve worked at the brewery. We’d have breakfast together every morning and dinner every night. We’d have two or three kids, but no more. I grew up with four brothers—no way do I need flashbacks of that,” I joke. “I imagined that once you got your degree, you’d open a business of your own here in town. We’d raise our kids, grow old together, and when we died, we’d be buried next to each other, never separating, even in death.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but when I look up, her eyes are glistening with tears. I open my mouth to ask why she’s crying, but I’m silenced when I find her in my lap, her lips against my own. My hands come up to cup her cheeks and I kiss her like it’s our last.

  “I forgive you,” she whispers against my lips.

  I swear my heart nearly jumps out of my chest with those words. I kiss her harder, faster, needing more of her, wanting to give her more of me. I stand, picking her up with me as I move us over to the single bed that’s pushed into the far corner. I lay her down softly and cover her body with my own.<
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  “I fucking love you,” I say against her skin as I kiss my way down her jaw and neck.

  “I love you too,” she replies, threading her fingers into my hair.

  12

  Destiny

  Hearing all his answers sealed my fate. Deep down, a part of me has always known that the prom kiss was an accident, but at the time, I didn’t want to accept it. I thought to myself, how could he confuse me with her? I’d been jealous of their innocent flirting.

  But I think what scared me most of all was the unknown. I loved Wyatt, and being 18 with a full life ahead of me—that scared me. I just figured we’d have to end things at some point, so why draw it out? Plus, it drove me crazy knowing that my best friend got to have a taste of what was mine. But now . . . now I wish we never would’ve ended. The way he saw our future means everything. He wants marriage and kids. He wants to spend the rest of his life with me. Is he really ready for all of that? Am I? I know I love him more than anything, but planning out the rest of your life can be a little intimidating.

  Finally forgiving him feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest. Like I’ve finally set down the 200-pound necklace I’ve been wearing around my neck all these years. I feel sore and tired from carrying it all this time, but now, I can finally breathe. I can stand upright, no longer hunched over and about to break. I feel whole—like that missing piece of my heart has finally been found and returned. I can’t stop myself from jumping into his lap and kissing him until I’m breathless.

  When he lays me down on the bed and peppers my skin with kisses as he strips away my clothing, a chill rushes over me. I’m not cold—it’s the just intensity of the moment. Hearing his words alone was enough to set every nerve ending on fire. Now, with his body on mine, those nerve endings are burning and melting. Every touch of his hand has me ready to come undone. When his mouth lands on my clit, I see stars. A loud moan leave my lips as my back arches up off the bed. His hands grab my hips, lowering me back to the bed. His hands go from a firm grasp to a soft caress, and it has me quaking with need. His tongue flicks against me before running circles around my clit and then sucking me into his mouth. One final lap of his tongue is all it takes to have me calling out his name in ecstasy. My hands grasp the blanket beneath me and my toes curl.

  I ride out every last wave of pleasure he provides until he’s climbing up my body. I suck in a gasp of air when I hear the zipper on his jeans being pushed down. Moments later, he’s filling me completely, pushing me closer to the edge once again. I dig my nails into his back, making him pump harder, faster. He bites down on my shoulder as he grinds his hips into me.

  “Fuck, Wyatt,” I breathe out.

  He offers me a smirk. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart.” He pulls out of me and quickly flips me over. Grabbing ahold of my hips, he pulls them upward until I’m on my knees in front of him. He slides in from behind, feeling bigger, thicker, longer. When he thrusts into me, I almost jump away, but he holds me close. I bury my face into the pillow to muffle my moans and screams as he ravishes my body. It doesn’t take long before I’m shattering again. The creaking bed is all I hear—that and the sound of his skin smacking off mine. With every thrust, his fingers brush against my clit. Everything becomes harder and more forceful. As one orgasm ends, another begins. My legs are shaking beneath me and I’m about to collapse just as he lets out a deep moan that makes my stomach muscles tighten. We ride out our high together.

  Lying in my dark bedroom alone, I can’t help but wish that Wyatt were here with me. I imagine him holding me close, one arm under my neck and the other holding the hand that rests on my stomach. I can feel his feather-light breath against my neck. I can smell his deep, earthy scent.

  I know I shouldn’t be this addicted to him already, and I hate that I am. Things are still so new and fresh. There’s no telling which way we’ll go from here. Will he get bored with me and move on—realize I’m not as good as his memory of me? Will he get tired of being back in our small hometown and get the itch to travel and see more of the world? And if he does, will I survive it? My heart longs to be next to his, but it hurts with the thought of him leaving. My heavy thoughts get the best of me and before I know it, I’m in a deep sleep.

  I sleep late the next morning. When I roll over to view the time, it’s going on 11 a.m. I push back my blanket and sit up with a groan. I feel sore and stiff from lying still for so long—well, it’s that or all the sex my body isn’t used to. Either way, there are things to be done today, so I force myself to get out of bed completely.

  I head to the shower to get ready for the day. An hour later, I’m dressed and heading down the stairs, finding Mama in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast.

  “‘Bout time you got up.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, going straight for the coffee pot.

  “Wyatt keep you up late last night?” She lets out a giggle.

  I laugh at her crush. “No, I was in bed by midnight.” I sit at the table and pick at the biscuit she’s left out for me. It’s smothered in homemade apple butter and I’m practically drooling.

  “What were you up to last night?” She comes and sits down in front of me.

  “Wyatt and I were just in the barn, hanging out and talking about old times. Is there anything you need from town? I’m itching to get out of here since tomorrow I have to work all day.”

  “There’s a list on the fridge. I need a few groceries from the market, and if you would, please stop by the hardware store and get some seeds. A few of my plants died and their pots need to be refilled.”

  “Anything specific?”

  She waves her hand through the air. “Just whatever they have. I like all flowers; I’m not picky.”

  Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling up to the hardware store. I run inside and find the aisle that holds all the gardening supplies and seeds. I grab a few packets and head up to the counter with them. I toss them down and start digging through my wallet.

  “Destiny Parker?” a girl squeals.

  I look up quickly to find Ashely Smithston. She’s wearing a wide smile, even though I’m not sure why she’d be happy to see me. Her blonde hair is over-processed, looking dead and stringy as it flows from her long ponytail. Her blue eyes are sparkling and lined too darkly. Studying her, I wonder why Wyatt chose her of all people. Suddenly, I wish I could take back my answer—I really don’t want to know anything about their history.

  “Hey,” I say, forcing a smile.

  “How have you been?” She picks up the seed packets and starts scanning them.

  “Great. Just got back into town.”

  Her eyes double in size. “Really? Isn’t that strange.”

  “What? Isn’t what strange?” I hand over my card and she swipes it.

  “Oh, just that you got into town around the same time as our Wyatt.” She hands my card back.

  I feel my brows pull together, wondering what she’s getting at.

  “Have you two seen each other yet?” she asks. I can tell from her smile that she’s expecting me to say “no.”

  “Yeah, he came straight to my parents’ house almost the minute he got into town,” I lie.

  Her face pinches. “Oh, I didn’t realize you two had kept in touch all this time.”

  I would walk out, but she’s still holding my seed packets. I motion for them, but she doesn’t catch on, or she isn’t done with me. I don’t know which.

  “Oh, well, we hadn’t. We lost touch completely there for a while. I guess he’d just been asking about me. Julie told him I was back home, and the next thing I knew, he was pulling into my drive. I actually really need to get going. Can I—?” I’m about to ask, Can I please have the items I paid for? when she cuts me off.

  “So you two are, like, together again?” Her eyes narrow on mine.

  I nod. “You could say that. Can I have that?” I ask, pointing to the packets in her hands.

  “Oh,” she says, finally handing them over. “Well, you know, Wy
att and I sort of had a thing there for a while after you two split up. I hope that’s okay.” She offers her sweet smile, hoping to get to me.

  I wave my hand through the air. “Hey, what’s done is done. No sense in dredging up the past, right?” I give her my overly-sweet smile. Yeah, bitch, I have one too. “Have a good day,” I say, heading for the door.

  When I walk out, I let out a long breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My heart is pounding a mile a minute, and the only thing I can think about is telling Julie how I stood up to the big bad cheerleader who made our lives a living hell in high school.

  I get everything my mom requested and take the items home before getting ready for my date with Wyatt. I dig through my closet and find a short miniskirt for myself and pull it on, matching it with a white tank top and wedge sandals. I find a darling pink dress that has little yellow flowers on it, and toss it on my bed while I finish getting ready. About an hour later, I’m pulling up to Wyatt’s house, pink dress in hand.

  He opens the door and smiles, but when he sees the dress I’m holding, the smile falls away as he lets out a groan. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” I say, brushing past him. “Come on, we have to do your hair and makeup.”

  He lets out a sound that’s something between a laugh and a groan, but he doesn’t argue as we head toward the bathroom to get ready. I set my bag on the counter and start digging through it , pulling out an old Halloween wig I’d found in my closet. I brush the brown hair out and set it on his head. A snicker leaves my lips. For the next 25 minutes, I work to curl the wig hair and paint his face as best I can. Other than his muscles, height, and jaw stubble, he really does look like a woman.

  As he approaches the mirror, I step back, holding in my laughter. His eyes find himself. At first, he looks a little afraid, but then he seems to warm up to the idea.

  “Actually, I don’t look that bad,” he says, spinning to check out his backside.

  This only makes me laugh harder. “I’m glad you approve. Now let’s go on our date.” I try to exit the bathroom, but he grabs my hand, stopping me.