Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

by Kat T. Masen

  “You like to dance, right?”

  “Sure, with my clothes on. So, if you’re trying to get me to take them off and casually stand by a silver pole, keep turning that page.”

  “You know me too well.”

  “Like the back of my hand.”

  “I don’t want you to go, Milly.” Her voice is raspy, pleading for something I can no longer control.

  “I have no choice. I can’t support paying for Mama’s care and keep the house. Besides, it’ll be nice to start fresh somewhere.”

  She turns to face me, throwing the newspaper onto the floor. The bed creaks again, annoying yet comforting because it’s my bed. The same bed I have slept in since I was a kid.

  “You’re lying. You hate fresh starts. You’re a homebody and moving to a different state, especially California, terrifies you.”

  I nod my head quietly. I do hate fresh starts and am a homebody. For the past five years, I have done nothing but study and work. I have zero social life besides hanging out with Phoebe and my boyfriend, Liam. My weekends consist of more work, taking care of the house, and making sure my brother stays out of trouble.

  I have worked hard on bettering myself and providing for Mama in her time of need. So what if I’m not hitting the clubs and partying like everyone else my age. I’ve been there, done that. Illegally, yet still, it’s not like I haven’t tasted what it’s like to walk on the wild side.

  I walked.

  I fell.

  And now I’m back up.

  “I have to do this.” I bury my head into Phoebe’s side, knowing I will miss her like crazy. “You can come visit, and I’m sure I’ll come back home for the holidays.”

  “It’s not the same. I’m selfish and need my best friend.”

  I smile into her shirt, inhaling the smell of cinnamon. A scent she purchased online after reading some article on how to attract men. As silly as it may seem, it’s so Phoebe. Naïve and waiting to land her prince charming.

  “I promise nothing will change between us,” I reassure her.

  “Pinkie swear it.” She holds up her pinkie finger, and I raise mine to link with hers.

  “I pinkie swear.”

  The radio sounds in the background, the local station playing the usual Friday afternoon ’90s mix. I grab the hairbrush from the top of the suitcase and sing to the tunes of Backstreet Boys. Phoebe can’t help herself, jumping off the bed and dancing in the room while we both belt out the chorus—off-key—laughing until my brother bangs against the wall.

  The song ends, the same time that we both stare at each other with clouded eyes. I’m the first to turn away, avoiding the sadness that I’m forcing to bury deep down inside because if I allow myself to feel the extent of it, I will never leave.

  I try to distract myself by folding a sweater until Phoebe’s arms wrap around my waist, her face buried into my hair. The sweater slips out of my hands as I pull her into me while we both begin to cry.

  Phoebe pulls away first, wiping my old, ragged t-shirt of the stains she left behind. When we both wipe our faces with the backs of our sleeves, we smile, staring into the mirror and laughing at our panda eyes.

  Phoebe’s more than a best friend—she’s my family.

  I look at the time on the wall—it’s just after four in the afternoon.

  “Phoebe, I have one more thing I need to do before I leave.”

  You can see the sympathy in her eyes. It isn’t only saying goodbye to Phoebe but to my boyfriend, Liam. I’ve been dreading this since the moment leaving became a reality.

  “You think you guys will last?”

  Here’s the thing about hope—we cling to it and wish to the stars above that it’ll all work out. Liam isn’t the type of man to force me to do anything. Quite the opposite. He supports my decisions even if it means leaving him behind.

  “I sure hope so.”

  Chapter Three

  I left Phoebe back at the house with my bags packed and ready to go.

  The walk into town is short, but a much-needed one as I attempt to clear my thoughts and think about what I need to say to the man who has been my boyfriend for the past four years.

  There’s the usual clinking and clanking coming from the garage, and without even calling his name, Liam slides out from beneath the car knowing I’m here. Instead of saying goodbye inside, I motion for him to follow me as I walk around the worn-out building and sit on our bench. The same bench where he asked me to marry him last year. Of course, I said no. I’m not ready for marriage. Twenty-five seems too young to settle down even though it has become common over the past few years. It seems like there are weddings after weddings, and all those marriages are high school and college friends the same age as me.

  Taking a seat on the wobbly bench, I steady the rocky movement before he sits beside me. Neither of us says any words—quietly watching the mountains afar. I will miss the scenery—something about the fresh Alaskan air has a way of making me feel calm.

  “I didn’t think this time would come.” He nervously twists the dirty rag between his grubby fingers. “I can help out, too, you know. I mean, I don’t have much, but you can have it, Milly.”

  Liam Davies isn’t a selfish man. I knew he would help me out financially, but this decision is more than leeching off my boyfriend. I would forever be in his debt, and that doesn’t sit well with me. He worked hard as an apprentice and is now a qualified mechanic. Unlike me, he didn’t go to college and this is all he has to support himself. He has already saved me—four years ago—from a college boyfriend who became my college stalker and found himself in college jail. Okay, perhaps I exaggerate that last part. He ended up in some detention center where he then proceeded to stalk the female nurse.

  “I can’t take anything from you. I don’t have a choice in this matter.”

  “You’re choosing to leave me.”

  “No, I’m choosing to give Mama the best care she can get.”

  Our words fall silent—only the noise of the boys in the garage tinkering away at the broken cars can be heard.

  I turn my body to face him, bridging the gap between us. Liam is an extremely good-looking guy. Dirty-blond hair tied up into a messy bun to keep away from his light green eyes. They never change color depending on his mood, and maybe that’s why he has this way of making me feel safe—the calming effect he has over me when I stare long enough and allow him to climb into my soul.

  The side of his face is smeared with grease, hiding the one dimple that sits on his right cheek—such a cheeky dimple, cute and adorable.

  “I never expected to make this decision, you know. I wish it were different, I really do.”

  How I wish it were different. Alaska is my home. The only place I know. I have only left the state once—a joy ride that went wrong, resulting in Mama having an almost-heart attack that her fifteen-year-old daughter would do such a thing. Aside from that, I know no different. A big city with crime, corruption, and God knows what else. I’m not that daredevil anymore—Los Angeles terrifies me.

  Liam places his hand on top of mine, rubbing the tips of my knuckles with his calloused fingers. “And us?” he asks with a croak.

  “We’ll just be us. Why does it have to change?”

  “Because you’re thousands of miles away. You don’t even own a cell.”

  I nudge his shoulder, welcoming the small joke. “Yes, I do. So, it’s not fancy and one of those so-called smartphones. It still works.”

  “I believe Vanilla Ice called from the nineties and wants his brick back,” he snorts, easing the uncomfortable tension between us.

  “That’s what he said about your outfit.” I laugh, pinching the fabric of his baggy navy overalls which he wears to work every day.

  “I’ll miss you, Milly.” Placing his arm around me, he kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering enough to warm my icy skin.

  I will miss him terribly. In hindsight, I probably should have married him. Then I wouldn’t have to move. We could have li
ved in his parents’ basement, oblivious to all that lay ahead. If only he didn’t scare me with the ‘kids’ talk, the desire to start a family, and a big one at that. It isn’t in the cards for me. Kids—singular or plural.

  A lonesome tear fights through my pride and falls onto his forearm. I wipe it with my hand, watching it mix with the grease that clings to his skin. Dammit, I don’t want to cry in front of him, and this is the second time today I have broken down. The emotions running high have only amplified my exhaustion. Everything hurts—my body, my mind, and most importantly, my heart.

  “It’s only a plane ride away. This is my home, it’ll always be home. Don’t think of me gone forever…”

  “I won’t.” He gulps, pursing his lips and thinking with his eyes. “Just don’t forget me when you get there.”

  I touch his hand and lean in, placing my lips on his. Everything about his kiss is home—warm, inviting, and connects with my heart in ways I never imagined. The familiarity of his gentle touch makes me ache all over. What if he forgets about me?

  “I will never forget you,” I tell him. “Good guys like you aren’t a dime a dozen.”

  “And you’re my lucky penny.” He winks.

  I stand up while he continues to sit on the bench. He offered to take Flynn and me to the airport, but I refused. Saying goodbye is hard, and having crowds of people watch me break down into a blubbering mess isn’t something I’m fond of doing. We had a proper farewell last night with dinner and lovemaking while his parents sat in the den watching re-runs of Mash.

  Resting my hands on his shoulders, I wrap them around his neck, knowing the boys in the garage are watching from where they stand.

  “Take care of yourself. One day I’ll be back, and it’ll be like I never left.”

  His endearing smile hides the pain as his heavy gaze tells me everything I need to hear at this moment. “You’ve got my heart, Milly.”

  “And you’ve got mine, Liam Dean Davies.”

  One more time, we allow ourselves to lose each other in a goodbye kiss. It might have been my imagination, but his kiss was more forceful this time, unlike his normally gentle and relaxing manner.

  Time ticks at a fast and demanding pace. We have only minutes left and this kiss—though deep and full of emotions—will be our last.

  In a world full of promises, I can be optimistic and know that he’ll always be around. But inside that world lies doubt. With everything riding on my shoulders, I will now carry the weight alone. I have no choice but to succeed.

  For my brother, who has no one else.

  For my Mama to be taken care of.

  And for my safe return home.

  The sound of a horn beeps at the end of the driveway. Mama’s cousin, Vladimir, sits in his truck, parked out front with Mama and Flynn inside. I turn back around and touch Liam’s scraggy hair one more time, before letting go and walking away. I refuse to look back, but by the time I’m sitting in the truck beside Flynn, I stare out the window to catch that last glimpse.

  He wears a smile like a badge of honor, but his eyes tell a different story. I can promise this man many things, but my fear drives my thoughts, and the truth is, I have no idea what the next twelve months will hold.

  ***

  The drive is relatively quiet—small talk about Alaskan history and my grandparents’ migration from Russia. The exit to the airport is only a few miles ahead, and before I can blink an eye, we are parked in Departures. Vladimir unloads our bags with Flynn assisting as I stand watching, swallowing the pain that crawls inside me and cripples my words.

  Flynn isn’t one to show emotion, but when he wraps his arms around Mama, the little boy inside of him comes out. His tall, lanky frame almost relies on her for support, resting his head awkwardly on her shoulder while she whispers into his ear.

  She always had a soft spot for him, her only son, her baby. He pulls away with bloodshot eyes, mouth twisted while mumbling goodbye and busying himself with our luggage.

  There’s chaos around us with people leaving, saying goodbye to their loved ones. Some smiling, some laughing, those that let their tears fall freely while holding onto each other tight, and a couple who embrace while jamming their tongues down each other’s throats.

  “You’ve got my details, where we’ll be staying,” I say quietly.

  Mama smiles softly, caressing my cheek with the back of her hand. She always wears this ring—old gold with an emerald stone in the middle. It had once belonged to my great-great-grandmother and was given to her by some queen in Europe. As a child, I would lay by Mama’s side and fantasize wearing the ring, planning the moment when she would leave it on her dresser, and I could slip it on wishing it was like Cinderella’s glass slipper. It never happened. She wears it every day and never takes it off.

  “Yes, I’ve got your details, and you know where to find me. Did you pack your sun hat? The Californian sun is awfully strong.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “What about your sweaters? The night air may be chilly.”

  “Yes, Mama. I’m not sure if I should be doing this. In fact, I know we shouldn’t be doing this,” I blurt out the words that were trapped earlier, ignoring our idle chit-chat about appropriate weather attire.

  Despite my earlier acceptance of the situation, the reality is hard and cold, knocking me back and forth.

  “You promised me you and Flynn would do this. Live your life, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll have the right people around me.”

  “But maybe we should wait, you know, get you settled, then go.”

  “Vladimir and Aunt Nellie will help me get settled. Besides, your interview is in two days, and this is your final round. You passed all the initial interviews with flying colors. They love you and haven’t even met you. I know this will work out for you, Milly.”

  I know she won’t be fine—that’s what hurt the most. Relying on other people to take care of her, it’s their paid job, so they won’t be doing it out of love like we would. And, all of a sudden, the guilt hits me. The pain I had put my mother through, raising a teenage daughter who was fixed on making everyone’s life hell because she had no clue that her mother was already living a nightmare.

  I owed her this.

  For my mistakes.

  My arms follow Mama’s actions, wrapping around her while we stand holding onto each other without saying anything. My grip is tight, not wanting to let go, remembering this moment, remembering her smell, the way her gray hair is always neatly tied up in a bun, and how I would tell her often that she needs to let it out since it’s beautiful.

  “You need to go now, honey. You don’t want to miss that flight.”

  I walk away, trying my best to hold it in, and as my steps take us further apart and reach the automatic doors, I turn back around one more time and see her standing by the truck. The smile that she wore earlier is no longer there, replaced by sadness and confusion as if she doesn’t know where she is or what she’s doing. If anything is going to break my heart, it will be that image of her feeling alone.

  Dropping my suitcase, causing a loud bang that people jump in shock over, I run fast, throwing myself into her arms just like Flynn, but this time I sob, sob so deeply, crying into her shoulder, snot coming out of my nose, and I don’t care who can see. I don’t care what people think of me. I just want to hug her because I don’t know how she will be when I come back. I don’t know if I will be coming back to the same woman.

  Most importantly, I don’t know if she will even remember my name again.

  She pulls away slowly, her eyes full of tears threatening to fall. Despite her strong will, one escapes, and a tear falls graciously onto the smile she wore before.

  “Do this please, for me, just do this for me,” she begs with exhaustion. “It’s all I ask of you. If anything changes, I promise you I’ll be the first to call you to come back.”

  I hold onto her words and reluctantly let go, Flynn calls my name one more time as the announcement war
ns us that check-in time is almost closing.

  Swallowing the pain that consumes me more than I can imagine, I take those baby steps back toward the door, but this time, I don’t turn around. I keep walking and link my arm into my brother’s, resting my head on his shoulder for support.

  Crying silently as the plane takes off, and I say goodbye to my home, I continue this for the whole trip.

  Chapter Four

  It has been an eventful few days in Los Angeles.

  We find a place to rent—a small, run-down but liveable apartment—in a questionable part of town. It’s all I can afford until I land a job and earn some decent money.

  Flynn hates the apartment. It is nothing like our home. It’s dreary with brown walls and squeaky floorboards that creak with every step. There is no view of the mountains, instead, a brick wall that belongs to some Indian restaurant and a questionable massage parlor on the top floor.

  He has made a few friends at the backpacker hostel where we stayed and wants to crash there. As much as I also love chatting to the friendly tourists who were sharing the rooms with us, our purpose is to make a life here, and that means finding a permanent place to live.

  Once we finally have the keys to the apartment, Flynn makes himself scarce, busying himself with God knows what. He refuses to talk to me, shutting down all channels of communication like this is my fault.

  It only makes it all the worse for me. Battling being homesick and trying to be strong for everyone becomes a difficult juggling act. I can’t recall a time when I’ve felt such an enormous amount of pressure on my shoulders, and the worst part is, I can’t run to Mama to save me.

  I try my best to make the apartment feel like home with the little I can afford to spend. We have our own beds, a small sofa, and a fridge full of food. The first night in, I cook us a meal, and all I get is a grunt before Flynn disappears into his room.

  It’s the night before my big interview, and the nerves are eating away at me. Phoebe calls me to run through some prep questions, but all it’s doing is making me more anxious.