Summer Heat

by Carly Phillips

  I have to remind my lungs to do their job as I clear my throat to correct myself, but both efforts are in vain.

  He looks past me as if it wasn’t me who was trying to get his attention.

  “Jake,” he speaks up, licking his lips and stretching his back. “I actually can’t stay,” he bellows from his spot to where the bartender, apparently named Jake, is chucking ice into a large glass. The music seems to get louder as the crushing weight of being so obviously dismissed and rejected settles in me.

  I’m struck by how cold he is as he gets up. I can’t stand to look at him as he readies to leave, but his name leaves me again. This time with bite.

  His back stiffens as he shrugs his thin jacket around his shoulders and slowly turns to look at me.

  I can feel his eyes on me, commanding me to look back at him and I do. I dare to look him in the eyes and say, “It’s good to see you.” It’s surprising how even the words come out. How I can appear to be so calm when inside I’m burning with both anger and … something else I don’t care to admit. What a lie those words are.

  I hate how he gets to me. How I never had a choice.

  With a hint of a nod, Daniel barely acknowledges me. His smile is tight, practically nonexistent, and then he’s gone.

  Chapter 2

  Daniel

  My father taught me an important lesson I’ll never forget.

  Never let a soul know what you really feel.

  Never express it.

  Only show them what you want them to see.

  I hear his voice as I slip my hands in my jacket pockets and keep walking down Lincoln Street with my heart pounding in my chest and anxiety coursing in my blood. Two more blocks and I’ll wait there. The alley is the perfect place to wait and collect myself.

  Until then, my blood will pound in my ears, my veins will turn cold and my muscles will stay coiled. But I won’t let anyone see that. Never.

  I remember how my father gripped my shoulder when he looked me in the eyes and gave me that advice.

  His dark stare was something no one ever forgot. It was impassive and cold. I lived many days wondering if my father loved me. I know my mother did. We were family and his blood, but he would never show any emotion and after that night, neither would I.

  I was fourteen years old. And standing only a few feet away from the body of someone I once knew. I don’t even remember his name. A friend of my father’s. He worked in the business and gave the wrong person the wrong impression.

  When you reveal that fear, that anger, that emotion, you give someone a hint of how to get to you. And that’s what my father’s friend had done. When someone gets to you, you end up dead.

  My shoes slap on the concrete sidewalk as I slow down at the intersection, as if I’m merely waiting for the cars to stop at the red light so I can cross. It’s not a busy night, so only a few people are walking down the street. A man to my right lights up a cigarette and leans against the brick wall to a liquor store.

  I make my way around the block, replaying what happened in my head. It was supposed to be a simple, easy night. Another night of waiting for Marcus to show for the drop-off or waiting to hear word about what’s going on with the deal between my brother and the cartel.

  She caught me off guard.

  Addison Fawn.

  She’s always been able to do that. She gets to me in a way I despise.

  She makes me remember.

  She makes me weak.

  Another step and I see her face. Her high cheekbones and piercing green eyes. I love the way her hair falls in front of her face. There’s always something effortless about it, like she doesn’t put an ounce of work into looking as fuckable as she does.

  The cool night air whips past me as I round the corner. The next alley will take me where I want to go. Directly across from the lot where her car must be. It’s the only parking lot on this street for three blocks.

  I swallow thickly, checking my phone again. It’s been three minutes since I’ve left.

  Three minutes is more than enough time for her to pay the tab and walk off.

  I don’t know if she will though.

  It’s been years since I’ve felt like I’ve known who she is.

  Years since I’ve heard her say my name.

  The corners of my lips turn up in a smirk as I hear the hesitancy in her voice replay in my memory and I let it. Like she was scared to say my name out loud.

  It echoes in my head as I lean against the wall of the dark alley and gives me a thrill I haven’t felt in a long time. Too long.

  The alley is narrow, the type of passageway built decades and decades ago before the world knew better. Before humanity realized they were inviting sins in the night with small spaces like these.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take a quick look around me before pulling it out.

  There are four cars parked in the dirt lot. The streetlight on the right side illuminates the area easily, as do the headlights of a passing car.

  My eyes flicker to the text on my phone and the amusement from only moments ago leaves me instantly.

  Who’s the girl? Jake texted and I’m reminded that I upped and left as if she mattered. As if her existence would cause an issue.

  And of course it does. More than anyone could know.

  My shoulders rise as I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing the anger from letting her get to me and I focus on regaining control. Control is everything.

  No one, I write him back but think better of it. It’s obvious she’s someone to me and Jake needs to be reassured. My brother’s ex, I add.

  My body tenses as I wait for him to respond. I keep my posture relaxed, although I’m anything but.

  Off limits? Jake must have a fucking death wish.

  I can’t help the way my teeth grind as I text a response and then delete it before finally firing off a quick message.

  For now. If Marcus comes tonight, tell him I’ll be back late. I’m smoldering with rage as I realize how stupid it was to risk missing the meet with Marcus all over a quick emotion I couldn’t suppress. Shock, anger … fear even. She’s only a girl. Inwardly, I can hear myself seething.

  Alright, Jake messages me, making the phone vibrate in my hand. I almost ask him if Addison is still there. My fingertips itch to push for information.

  But it’s not needed.

  Even as Jake continues to text me about the drop-off, I watch the skirt sway around Addison’s hips. It’s the color of cream and loose on her, not giving me any hints of how her ass looks right now. But her legs are on full display.

  I’ve always thought of Addison the same way, even after everything that went down. From the first day I met her until this very second. She’s a sad, but beautiful girl. You can see her pain in every bit of her features when she doesn’t know someone’s looking. Like I often did. From the way her full lips pout delicately, to the way her eyes seem to stare off in the distance, even when she’s looking right at you it’s as if she can see through you.

  Those eyes have haunted me. The beautiful shades of green and brown are like the sunset over a forest. Like flecks of light peeking through and enhancing the darkness that’s soon to come.

  She runs her hand over her soft porcelain skin and through the modest waves in her thick dark hair. Even those slight movements and the swing of her hips as she walks carry a sadness with them. It never leaves her. It defines her. But it suits her well.

  More than sad, and more than beautiful, Addison is memorable. Unforgettable.

  Her car beeps as she unlocks it, a shiny new black Honda from the looks of it, and the sound echoes in the alley. She’s parked in the third spot in the row of cars lined up under the streetlight. She looks to the left and right, cursing as she drops her keys in the gravel.

  My dick stirs in my pants, straining against the fabric and I let out a low groan at the sight of her bent over. Her hair is swept to one side and the strap of her top is falling off her shoulder, giv
ing me a view of that soft spot in the crook of her neck.

  I adjust my dick and memorize the curves of her hips and waist until she opens up her car door and slips inside.

  Every second my breaths come in heavier. The air around me feels as if it wants to suffocate me. Her tires kick up the gravel in the lot and I have to take a step back into the alley to avoid her headlights as she turns out onto the street.

  I tell myself it’s only out of instinct that I take a picture of her license plate as she drives off.

  Well I try to, but I’m a poor liar.

  When she’s gone from view, I step back out onto the concrete sidewalk, staring down the desolate street and letting the brisk night air cool my hot skin.

  Addison is back.

  The only question on my mind is what I’m going to do with her.

  Chapter 3

  Addison

  I’ve hated Daniel for a lot of things. I’ve never really tallied them up before.

  The silent drive back to this tiny apartment provided plenty of time to recount each and every moment that bastard has made me feel inadequate, embarrassed … undeserving.

  I take in a deep, calming breath then toss the keys onto the small kitchenette table and head right for the wine.

  This day was going so well.

  The thought settles me as I open the fridge and quickly grab a half-full bottle of red blend. I use my teeth to pull out the cork and pour the wine into a bright yellow coffee mug with sunflowers engraved on it. It’s the closest thing to me and all my glasses are still packed in boxes.

  It’ll do fine to hold the wine, I think as I take a small sip. And then a large one.

  I don’t have a buzz yet, but in fifteen minutes I’m sure I will.

  As I lick the sweet wine off my lips, I stare aimlessly at the glass bottle. I have to be careful not to fall into old patterns. It’s been a long time since I’ve needed wine to sleep. But I can see myself relying on that bad habit tonight. That’s what some memories will do to you.

  I take a good, hard look at the bottle. It’s more than halfway empty as it is. I’ll be fine.

  Leaning against the counter, I let the past flicker in front of me and trace the outline of the flowers on the mug.

  Each memory is accompanied by another gulp of wine, each one tasting more and more bitter.

  So many times Daniel’s left me feeling less than. And it’s my fault.

  Even the first time was my fault.

  The sudden memory of Tyler both warms my heart and makes my vision blur as my eyes gloss over with tears. I can’t think of him for long without feeling a deep pain in my chest.

  He was my first. My first everything.

  Just like his brother Daniel and just like the rest of the men in their family, Tyler Cross was stubborn. And he didn’t let up until I finally caved and said yes to being his girlfriend.

  I told myself he was nice and that it felt good to be wanted. And my God, it did. When you’re an orphan, you learn rather quickly people don’t want you.

  It’s a hard thing to unlearn.

  And at sixteen years old and in my fourth foster home, I didn’t believe Tyler wanted anything more than a kiss, or to cop a feel. To get into my pants. Just like the previous foster dad wanted from me. He was a rotten bastard.

  I run the tip of my finger along the edge of the mug, remembering how Tyler didn’t give up on making me feel wanted. I only stayed with the Brauns, my fourth foster home in three years, because of how Tyler made me feel.

  I didn’t want to move to another school district.

  I finally wanted to stay somewhere.

  The Brauns would get their check and I would be a good kid, I’d be quiet. I’d put up with whatever it was I had to do in order for them not to send me back.

  All because Tyler genuinely made me feel wanted. Even if it was obvious the Brauns, like the other foster parents, only wanted to get paid. Having to watch over a teenager with hormones and homework wasn’t on their wish list.

  Looking back on it now though, I don’t much mind Jenny and Mitch Braun. They were okay people. Maybe if I hadn’t run away when everything happened, I’d have a relationship with them. Or a semblance of one.

  They didn’t like Tyler though. They were probably the only people on the face of the earth who didn’t like that boy. I can’t blame them, since he did in fact want to get into my pants when they eventually met him.

  I cover my mouth with my hand as I let out a small laugh at the memory.

  He had to meet my guardians before I’d go anywhere near his house.

  I have to give Tyler credit, he put up a good showing.

  And then I had to face his family.

  There was one big difference though. One massive separation between what he had to do and what I had to do in our little agreement.

  Tyler had a real family.

  That was so obvious to me. Actual relatives. Like I had once. It’s an odd feeling standing in a room with people who belong together. Especially when you don’t, but you want to. You desperately want to.

  It was wrong of me. Every reason I had for staying with Tyler was selfish.

  I was young back then. Young and stupid and incredibly selfish.

  I know that now and it only makes the shame that much worse.

  I remember how I could hardly look at anyone as Tyler wrapped his arm around my shoulders. Like he was proud of me and I belonged to him.

  His mother had died years before, something Tyler and I had in common. His father was in the leather recliner in the living room, seated in front of the television although I’m certain he was sleeping.

  Tyler told me his father worked late nights, but I could read between the lines. I knew the type of family the Crosses were. I knew by the way people spoke in hushed voices around them with traces of both fear and intrigue. And I heard the whispers.

  There were little clues too. Tyler and his brother Jase were always being handed money under the cafeteria table and making quick exchanges. Certain people avoided them, certain red-eyed and scrawny potheads, to be exact.

  It didn’t matter to me.

  In fact, I liked that their family was doing some type of business that meant his father would be asleep when I was forced to meet them all. Five boys in the family and Tyler was the youngest.

  One less male to have to endure was fine by me. Declan, the middle boy, gave the impression of being disinterested in life in general. Let alone his brother’s girlfriend. He was the first of Tyler’s brothers I met, and even he seemed to be kind, if nothing else.

  And that continued as I met his other brothers. They all welcomed me. There was no hidden agenda, no sneers or snide comments about where I was from or what the Brauns did at the local tavern two weeks ago.

  That’s one thing people liked to gossip about at school when I first got there. Foster parents aren’t supposed to be drunks. Funny how that type of talk died when Tyler staked his claim on me.

  Yet another reason I stayed and gave more and more of myself to a boy who could never have all of me.

  It was so obvious that he never would. Especially that first day he brought me home.

  The moment I thought I could relax, I met the last brother.

  Daniel.

  Tyler knocked on the door to his room, tapping out song lyrics and telling him to open up.

  I remember exactly the way my polish had chipped on my thumbnail. I’m a nervous picker and I was busy chipping away at it when the door opened.

  “What?” The word came out hard and my body stilled. I could feel the anger coming off of him from being interrupted.

  He gripped the doorframe, which made his shoulders and height seem that much more intimidating. It was his toned muscles and the dark stubble lining his upper throat and jaw that let me know he was older.

  And the heat in his stare as he let his gaze wander to where I stood that let me know I wasn’t welcome.

  That was the first time Daniel made me feel the sam
e way I do now.

  And the first time I knew I’d never love Tyler the way he deserved.

  But I stayed with him. Deep inside I know it’s because a very large part of me wanted Daniel to want me back. I wanted Daniel to want me the way that I instantly wanted him.

  Chapter 4

  Daniel

  The back door to Iron Heart Brewery is propped open a couple inches with a brick. There’s a small stack of them next to the dumpster and I’ve seen a few of them used for a number of things.

  The door creaks open slowly as I take a look to my left and right. It’s pitch black out now and deserted. It’s been four hours since I left. Enough time to pass for me to get my shit together and figure out what it is that I want and how I’m going to handle this.

  The entire town is quiet now that everything on Lincoln Street is closed.

  I sneak in the back, hearing the clinking of glass around the corner and past the stockroom. The fresh scent of hoppy beer in this place never gets old.

  I’ve only been here a couple months and I thought I’d get bored fast. So far there’s not much action or competition. For a college town, it’s surprising. But feeling out this area and waiting on information about future deals for my brother hasn’t been the pain in the ass it usually is.

  Other than Jake. He’s not good for a damn thing other than asking for a beer or who comes around here when I’m away. He knows this place is used for drops, but that’s as far as our relationship goes.

  Jake’s got his earbuds in, he’s not paying attention in the least. My shoulder leans against the wall closest to the far end of the bar, and just enough so I can see the table where Addison sat earlier today.

  I let the memory linger for a moment before speaking loud enough for Jake to hear over the music blaring in his ears.

  “Marcus show up?” I call out and Jake startles, hitting his lower back against the counter and dropping a glass to the ground.

  It breaks, cracking into a few large pieces rather than shattering.

  Pushing off the wall, I take a few steps closer to him.