Jesse

by Jo Raven

  Uh-oh. Not a good time.

  I backpedal before they notice me. Kayla is nowhere to be seen, and Zane and Dakota are heading off, toward the buffet, together with Dylan and his little brothers.

  Maybe eating something isn’t a bad idea. I should ask Jesse if he’d like to join me. I retrace my steps, hurrying back along the pool to its other end, pushing against the flow.

  Yeah, so I didn’t even make it for fifteen minutes on my own. But truth is, I am hungry. Starving. Couldn’t eat all day from the nerves, and the smells coming from the back of the garden are mouthwatering. My stomach is growling like a beast from hell.

  Hey, he did say I could go back to him whenever I wanted, right? And although I’ve only been away from him only a moment, I find a spring in my step and a lightness in my heart as I walk back toward him.

  You got it bad, girl.

  But I can’t keep from smiling as I wade through a cluster of laughing guys who are waving beer bottles and smoking what I only hope is tobacco—in search of JJ.

  And I find him.

  Only, something’s wrong with the picture. My mind refuses to process what my eyes are seeing, and I stop so abruptly the momentum carries me forward one more step.

  Jesse is kissing a girl. Her hands are on his shoulders and her mouth on his, and I can’t… can’t breathe. Can’t speak.

  Can’t frigging think.

  My hands are shaking. The tremor spreads to my arms.

  I should have expected this. Why didn’t I expect this? Everyone warned me, everyone. People don’t change just like that, from one woman to the next. A manwhore won’t change his ways for me.

  I was only gone fifteen minutes…

  Turning away blindly, I make for the garden gate. I can’t get out of here fast enough. My heart hurts. It’s cracking, shattering.

  Stupid, Amber. That was so stupid of you, to fall for him.

  I think I hear him calling my name, and I start to run, my sandals clacking on the paved floor. I duck under arms, squeeze between people in my rush to get out of there. Disoriented, I slow down and glance around.

  There. The gate.

  A moment later I’m out on the street, calling a cab. I’m lucky, there’s one in the vicinity. I walk further down the road while waiting, and as I hear a commotion at the gate, and my name being called once more, I climb into the cab and speed away.

  If only fixing my heart could be so simple.

  PART III

  My name’s Jesse Lee, not Jesse James, but the famous outlaw and I seem to have lots in common. I’m not a train robber by any stretch, but I know what it’s like to be poor. I’m not a gang leader, but I’ve lived on the dirty streets for years. I’m no murderer, but by the looks some people give me, I might as well be. I’m always on the run, always on the move, never sprouting roots, always drifting, like my namesake.

  He’s dead, and I’m alive, but I might as well be dead and buried in his grave. I might as well be him—because if I said I wanted to stop running, that I want a home and a girl to love and hold, nobody would believe me.

  Wanna bet?

  ~ Jesse

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jesse

  Holy shit. I try to push Cassie off me without hurting her, but she’s holding on to me like she’s drowning and I’m a lifesaver. What the fuck’s up with this girl? I don’t want to kiss her. I don’t like her, she tastes wrong, and besides…

  Don’t want to kiss any girl but Amber.

  I growl, finally shaking her hold off me and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “What the hell’s wrong with you, huh?”

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t want it, Jesse Lee.” She has her hands on her hips, blue eyes flashing, and hell, she’d be sexy, she’d be hot if…

  If I was interested. Which I’m not. “Stay away from me. I’m not…”

  Was that Amber? I thought I saw her, eyes wide and dark, face white, mouth open. I thought I saw her turn on her heels and run.

  “Amber?” I turn to go after her.

  Cassie grabs my hand. “Jesse, wait. Do you really want to do this?”

  I still. Cold fury spreads in my chest, in my face, until it feels numb. “Let. Go.” I look pointedly at her hand on mine. “Now.”

  Her brows shoot up and some color leaves her face. “Okay.” She draws her hand back, curls it into a fist. “But you must see it. She’s not like you. She’s taking this seriously. I’m doing you a favor, Jesse.”

  “Fuck you.” If she was a guy, I’d have punched her, but she’s a chick, dammit. “Stay out of my life, and don’t you ever fucking touch me again, got it?”

  I run after Amber. I’ll explain this to her. She’ll understand. She has to know I wouldn’t do this to her. That I wouldn’t do this at all, not since her.

  Why did she run? Fuck, she doesn’t believe I initiated the kiss, did she? Not after I told her I never kissed anyone before her. That I want to be with her.

  But the cold feeling in my gut tells me she does believe it’s my fault.

  Shocker, I know. With my history, why would she trust me? But it smarts.

  I shove people aside, their curses following me as I look for her frantically. Where did she go?

  Amber. I thought she saw me, that she had faith in me. More faith than I have in myself. And now I can’t see her anywhere. She hasn’t left the reception, right?

  Right?

  Oh fuck.

  I start running flat out as soon as the crowd thins a little, heading out. I pound out onto the street and glance right and left. Where are you, Embers?

  A glitter to my left has me running that way before I even get a good look. It’s her all right, her silver dress catching the light of a street lamp. But a cab overtakes me and stops in front of her. She opens the door and climbs inside.

  “Embers!” I put in another burst of speed. Can’t let her leave believing I cheated on her. Can’t let her go. “Wait!”

  But the cab speeds off, leaving me in its dust. I race after it for a few yards, waving my arms like an idiot and calling for her.

  No use.

  Dammit.

  She’s gone.

  I slow to a halt on the street, brace my hands on my knees and struggle to catch my breath. A can honks behind me, and I stumble sideways, climbing onto the sidewalk.

  Can’t believe this happened. Can’t believe she wouldn’t even stay to talk to me, hear me out. I thought…

  You thought she was different. That she’d treat you like someone worth hanging on to. Instead she turned her back at the first sign of trouble, just like everyone else in your life. Didn’t wait two seconds to hear you out, give you the chance to explain yourself.

  And the kicker is that you still want her and hope she’ll take you back.

  ***

  Seth finds me drinking whiskey by the pool some time later, sitting in a bamboo chair. I’m staring at my cell phone, at the lack of response after the tenth text I’ve sent her, when his shadow falls over me.

  He pries the glass from my fingers and sits down on the chair across from me. He lifts it, swallows the rest of my whiskey down and grimaces. “So what the fuck happened here, man?”

  I put down the damn cell and rub a hand over my face, then reach for the leather band around my wrist.

  It’s not there. I panic for a second before I remember giving it to her.

  All right, then.

  The music isn’t as loud as before, and a glance around tells me most people have left. Who knows for how long I’ve been sitting here.

  Fuck. I get up on unsteady legs, intent on catching a cab to her place and knocking on her door until she lets me in, lets me explain.

  Fight for your girl, Zane had said.

  The world tilts, and I sink back down. Whoa. I blink, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass.

  Seth hasn’t moved from his sprawl on the seat, not even when I weaved on my feet. Asshole.

  “So how much have you drunk?” He lifts the whiskey bottle
from its spot by my seat. He shakes it. It’s almost empty. “Tell me this wasn’t full when you started on it.”

  “It wasn’t.” Least, I don’t think it was. Not completely.

  “Good, because if you swallowed that much whiskey in half an hour, I’d be calling the fucking ambulance right now.”

  Fuck. I thought I’d been sitting here for five minutes only. I needed to catch my breath and I hoped she’d answer the phone, or my texts.

  “I’m okay. I need to go, I’m…” I shake my head, frown at him. “Hey, just a sec. How come you’re not flaming pissed?”

  His brows lift. “I don’t look pissed to you?”

  Well. He’s got a point, and yet… “Not enough. Not if you like Cassie that way.”

  “I don’t.”

  Back up. I didn’t quite catch that. “The fuck you don’t.”

  “She’s okay, I guess. No, Shane is the one who likes her.” He pours the remnants of the whiskey into my glass—my glass, motherfucker—and swallows it down in one gulp. “I’m pissed on his behalf, not mine. Which is why I haven’t punched your pretty face in.”

  Hell. “But the other night, outside Halo, you said—”

  “That she’s a nice girl.” He shrugs. “I need to believe it, for Shane. Guy’s head over heels.”

  “But you saw what she did.” I feel cold, and I wonder if I’m coming down with something, or if it’s all the whiskey I drank. “That’s so fucked up.”

  “She just came on to you?” He cocks his head at me, eyes narrowing.

  “Yes!”

  “Why didn’t you push her away?”

  I gape at him. “Shit, you don’t believe me.”

  “Just saying, man. She’s a girl, and you’re a strong guy. She can’t have forced you.”

  I get up again, dizziness be damned. I jab a finger at Seth. “You saw her at Halo the other night. And for your information, motherfucker, I pushed her, but she wouldn’t let go. Ask anyone who was around. Fuck.”

  Seth grabs my forearm and drags me back down. Balance shot, I topple backward, almost missing the chair.

  “The hell?”

  “I believe you.” Low. Quiet. “So just sit tight and don’t go drowning in the pool or anything, all right? You’re right, I saw her at the bar the other night. She has a crush on you.”

  I shrug angrily. Not my fault, is it? “I have to go find Amber.”

  Because she saw it. She fucking saw it. And now she’s not here, and I feel…half. Incomplete.

  “I’ll go with you, then.” He gets to his feet and gives me a hand up. “Let’s go.”

  Gratefulness fills me. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.” And not just the fact he’s coming with me, but the fact he believes me.

  “So,” I say as he guides me along the pool with a hand on my shoulder, without which I’d have probably stumbled into the lit water already, “you’re not into chicks, or am I missing something?”

  He chokes on laughter. “Fuck’s sake, J. Who says I don’t like chicks?” He sobers as we walk past a cluster of people dancing to a ballad. The bride and groom are at the center, wrapped around each other, and anger flares again inside me.

  Embers…

  “That one.” Seth is pointing at someone, and when I focus enough to look, I see Cassie, her back turned to me, talking to some people.

  “Fuck her.” I jerk away from him and start toward her, heat rushing up my neck, my hands fisting. “I’ll punch the bitch. I don’t give a flying fuck that she’s a girl.”

  “J, no.” Seth’s hand closes around my bicep like a vise of steel, holding me back. “Not her, idiot. The brunette. Her friend. That’s the one I want.”

  Seeing through the red haze of anger takes some effort. I finally notice the brunette. She’s pretty, with large, dark eyes, shiny long hair and a tight, tall body, like a dancer.

  “That Cassie’s friend? Maud, or something like that?”

  “Manon. Madeline Torres.”

  He sounds breathless. Jesus.

  Oh yeah, the boy’s got it bad for this particular girl.

  “I take it all back,” I mutter as he drags me away and out of the garden. “You really are into chicks. But honestly, why the fuck did you have to pick Cassie’s friend of all people?”

  ***

  I’ve been buzzing Amber’s door for what feels like hours, but no reply. I try again calling her on the cell phone.

  Nothing. Nada.

  The call goes to voicemail. She’s switched her phone off.

  Seth is smoking beside me, the embers of his cigarette glowing in the night.

  “Open up!” I slam my fist on the building door and relish the jarring pain shooting up my arm.

  “Easy, guy.” Seth throws his smoke down, steps on it and grabs my arm. “Let’s go.”

  “Fuck you. Lemme go. I have to talk to her.”

  “She’s upset right now, man. Give her time.”

  “Time will only make this worse.” I know it. I can feel it in my bones. Have to clear this up before it festers. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

  “The hell you will.” He tugs. “Come on, J.”

  “Get your hands off me.” I shake him off and press the buzzer button again. “Why won’t she talk to me? I didn’t do anything.”

  “We talked about this. Your reputation—”

  “Fuck my reputation. I’m a person. I’m not my past.” Not sure I’m making sense. I’m gonna break something, and if it’s not this door, it will be a bone in my body. I bang on her door and yell her name.

  I only want… Want her to keep me, dammit. To give me the benefit of a doubt. Don’t I deserve even that much?

  “J, dammit. Come on, before someone calls the police.” He tears me away from the building entrance and hauls me down the street, glancing over his shoulder all the way. His grip is cutting off the circulation in my arm, and the pain is welcome, though not enough to take my mind off this mess.

  My fault. It’s all because of my fucking reputation, my fucking past and my need to drown it all in sex, sex I was in control of, until I met Amber.

  My fault for not punching Cassie in the face when she came on to me.

  I need to drink more.

  But Seth has other ideas. He’s dragging me away, walking me back to my apartment, and dammit, I have nothing there to drink, not since the jackasses who live with me drank all my liquor.

  And then Amber took me to her place and broke out the brandy, and we toasted Helen together.

  Fuck.

  Amber. She tastes like candy. I want to kiss her again, wrap myself in her. She’s so intoxicating and yet she feels so good, like home, a feeling I’ve almost forgotten.

  I want her. Need her. So much it fucking hurts.

  Rubbing the demon inked on my chest, I stumble after Seth who’s determined to bring me home safe.

  I let him. I don’t even bother to shake my arm free again. We stagger past closed stores and groups of guys and girls barhopping and having a fun night out, and my brain shuts down to minimum functions.

  Heart beating. Eyes scanning the sidewalk ahead. Swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. Breathing.

  Because I don’t get how this is happening again—and how it can be worse than anything that has happened so far in my fucked up life.

  ***

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Zane rants at me, walking up and down the tiny space of his booth. Which basically means he takes two steps and turns, takes two steps and turns.

  Driving me up the wall. “Z-man…”

  “Now listen to me, fucker.” He stops, sucks on the barbell in his tongue. “I thought you were serious about Amber, but I told you how I felt about you toying with her.”

  “I’m not toying with her. I am serious. Jesus.”

  “Shoving your tongue down Cassie’s throat isn’t showing me you’re serious.”

  “I didn’t—”

  He backs me up against the counter. “Don’t give me this shit.”

>   “Back off.”

  He doesn’t. He’s glowering at me, a flush going up his neck.

  Goddammit. Way too close. He’s crowding me. He’s got a few inches on me, and with the Mohawk he looms over me. I shove him back, my breath short. “Stay the fuck out of my face.”

  He stumbles, caught by surprise. “What the hell, man?”

  “Stay away from me. Just… stay the fuck away.”

  I lean back on the counter, cross my arms across my chest and try to pretend my heart isn’t pounding in my ears and that cold sweat isn’t running down my face.

  Damn. I thought I was over that evening when I got my scars. I mean, come on, I wasn’t even a kid. It was only a couple of years ago. I thought it hadn’t affected me, hadn’t scarred anything more than my arm, but in moments like this, or when Gage cornered me in the kitchen, I realize it has. It’s carved deep into my mind.

  Zane is still, one hand gripping the back of his neck, watching me like a hawk.

  Boom, boom, boom. My heart is hammering, knifing through my chest.

  “Sit down, fucker,” Zane finally says, grabs my arm and drags me to his work stool. I let him, mostly because my legs feel weirdly weak. Then he sticks his head out of the booth and roars, “Tyler! Get your butt in here.”

  Great. I scowl and brace for round two of whack-a-Jesse.

  “What’s up?” Tyler walks inside, and damn, that’s too many men and too much testosterone for a booth. Maybe I can escape outside long enough to draw a real breath.

  But Tyler decides to stay in the entrance, blocking it.

  Figures.

  My breath whistles in my chest. I scratch at the scars on my arm. Need to get out, dammit.

  “Man, I told you.” My voice echoes in my ears. “I didn’t kiss Cassie. Don’t know what else to say.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes,” Tyler says. “Admittedly, this one was fucking stupid, but—” He takes a step forward. “You okay, J?”

  “It wasn’t a mistake,” I whisper, because I need to say it. “I didn’t do it.” My hands are shaking like an old man’s.