First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances

by Kent, Julia

  Grandma! I don’t understand the other things Mommy and Daddy are saying, but I understand enough to know we’re going to visit Grandma. We don’t usually do that until Christmas, but I can’t wait. I hurry up the stairs to grab my little rolling backpack that I like to cart my trains around in. Once I’ve stuffed three t-shirts and my favorite pair of jeans inside, I start back into the hallway. I’m almost to the steps when I remember underwear. Mom’s ears will turn red if I don’t bring underwear. I grab two pair then drag my bag down the steps with my stuffed dog under my arm.

  “I’m ready!” I proudly announce. “Let’s go see Grandma.”

  Mommy’s hand flies to her mouth, and she’s crying as she kneels down in front of me. “I’m sorry, Axel, but you have to stay here.”

  “But I want to go see Grandma.” I lower my lip out into a pout, looking between her and Daddy.

  Daddy is still standing in the kitchen, and he looks as confused as I feel.

  “I’m sorry, I just need some time to unwind, and I’ll come see you soon. Sometimes Mommies and Daddies just need a little space, but your dad needs your help around here with the horses, and you’ve got school soon.”

  Dad tries to scoop me up in his arms, but I chase Mommy out the door. She shuts herself in her car, and I sob as I bang on the door, pleading for her to take me with her. But she doesn’t, and she doesn’t come back. Ever.

  Apparently, to grownups, space is just another way of saying goodbye.

  I shake off the memories, but the damage is done. If I stay here, the emptiness of my apartment is going to kill me. At least if I go down to the bar, I can drink myself stupid and try to forget. Chelsea will probably tell me told-you-so, but she’ll also be a welcome distraction that I desperately need.

  The bar is quiet tonight, a typical Sunday with several college kids shirking homework in the corner, a couple at a table having dinner, and an old man nursing a beer and sneaking looks at Chelsea’s ass every time she turns away. As I make my way across toward my favorite barstool, the door opens, and a few more patrons spill in out of the warm, soggy air.

  Chelsea takes one look at my face when I crawl onto the barstool, and her eyes immediately narrow to dagger-sharp slits. “Do I need to get my rusty spoon?”

  I must look worse than I thought, but it still can’t be half as bad as I feel.

  A semi-familiar looking blonde sidles over to the bar and leans down so her tits are hanging in my face. I think she’s Gwen or Monica or something like that, but I’m not really sure. The last time I saw her, she was screaming my name; I wasn’t screaming hers. “You look like you could use a friend.”

  I’m honestly considering it. My chest aches, my heart hurts, and I just want the pain to go away. If I can bury myself in some dumb blonde for a few minutes, that’s a few minutes less that I will hurt. There’s a disconnect between my thoughts and my face, because I can’t even force my lips into a smile. If they won’t come up, I’m pretty sure my dick won’t either. My body knows who it wants, and it isn’t her.

  Gail or Mona or whatever her name is lightly trails one of her nails down my arm, and I have the distinct mental image of a cat unsheathing her claws.

  “Sorry, not tonight.” I turn my head away, watching nothing in particular but trying to make my dismissal clear.

  The nail freezes against me, and for a moment I worry she’s going to skewer me with it. It might serve me right if she did. “Call me if you change your mind.”

  Chelsea gestures toward a bottle of tequila. “You want me to pour you a shot?”

  “Fuck that, just give me the damn bottle.” One shot is not going to be enough. Nothing will ever be enough. I’ve been down this road before, and I know it’s a long, lonely trip to the bottom of the well. The only way to keep from drowning in the tepid water of misery is to drink it a little at a time until eventually you feel like you’re going to burst, but you’re touching dry ground.

  Without Angel, nothing makes sense and nothing matters. The good news is that I’ve done this dance before, and I know the steps. Work out until my body goes numb, then drink until my head goes numb, go home with a different girl each night and pretend I give a shit. Then I get to wake up alone and do it all again. Eventually, it will hurt a little less.

  “You can’t do this again, Axel. I am not going to watch you throw everything away like last time.” She slides a glass of water toward me, and it slips along the smooth counter, sloshing a few drops on the shiny surface.

  “Then don’t watch.” This is my damn bar, and if I want to get piss-drunk, I’ll do it. I round the corner of the bar like a bull aiming for a red cloth, my eyes locked on the amber bottle of tequila.

  Thirty Six

  Angel

  I’d like to tell myself that it was shock that kept me from begging Arion not to leave, but I’m pretty sure it was mostly pride.

  It was only after he’d driven away, his truck carving angry gashes in the mud as he sped down the lane, that I realized I’ve taken him for granted. I never thought he’d give up on me. Arion was always the sure bet—the thing I could count on. No matter how bad things got, I knew he wanted me, and I wanted him. We just had to figure out the logistics, and I needed to know I could still trust him.

  I think I may be mourning my loss of trust in him even more than the loss of him, because it’s easier to undo a goodbye than it is to undo a lack of trust.

  But the way he kissed me without a word, it was very clearly a goodbye. I tried to hold in my sobs, and I almost managed it, but once the floodgates opened, they didn’t close for the rest of the night. Finally, sometime after three a.m., I fell into something that almost resembled sleep, only to be woken up at six by Molly bathing my face with kisses.

  She’s too cute to be mad at and she might be my only friend, so I got up, gave her breakfast, and made myself a cup of coffee. I found a Keurig on the counter, just like the one Arion bought for his place, which only made me start crying all over again. A truck pulled up outside the barn a few minutes ago, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t race to the window and look out, hoping it was Arion.

  And I absolutely did not sob with utter disappointment when it wasn’t.

  Now, I’m headed to the barn myself. I’m supposed to be here to work, not to lay in bed and cry, and I have every intention of earning my keep. The rising sun is at my back, laughing at me. I think this is the first time since I arrived on the East Coast that I’ve woken to the promise of a beautiful sunny day, and I’ve never felt more gloomy. The grass has already started to dry, and I’m pretty sure it is going to be hotter than blazes later. So, several degrees below a typical Tucson day and a degree or two above Hell.

  I’m living my own personal Hell, so that suits me just fine. I thought about calling Mom last night—just to hear her voice—but it’s too risky. No matter how much I crave comfort, the loss of Arion is something I have to get through alone.

  Or maybe not.

  Lexi greets me with a sympathetic smile as I let myself into the barn. “Oh, wow. You look like you got plowed over by a runaway horse.”

  I crack half a smile. “That’s about how I feel, too. What can I do to help?”

  “I’ll show you where we measure the feed and meds, and you can help me fill buckets.” Lexi doesn’t wait for an answer; instead she turns on her heel, striding purposefully away and expecting that I’ll follow. I get the impression she takes her job very seriously, and that’s something I can respect. I like her more by the minute.

  Up and down the aisle, impatient horses whicker and stomp their agreement. The feed room is halfway down the barn, next to the tack room, and it smells heavily of molasses and something else sickeningly sweet, but comfortingly familiar. I haven’t been in a barn in a few years and I’ve never been in one this big or nice, but a love of horses is something that never really leaves you.

  Unlike fickle boys.

  “So, you’re Axel’s girlfriend, huh?” Lexi is watching me carefully for a r
eaction as we stop in front of a cluttered corkboard. Several pegs stick out in neat and tidy rows, and from each, there’s a laminated tag hanging from a medium-sized clasp.

  “I have no idea what I am to him, if anything.” Tears burn in my chest, and I have to look away.

  “Boys are stupid. Horses over jackasses, as far as I’m concerned. Axel’s better than most, but he’s still a boy. The only good thing about both horses and jackasses, though, is that they always know how to find their way home. And, girl, by the way he was looking at you yesterday, he’ll be back.”

  I doubt it, but I don’t say so. “Have you known him long?”

  “Long enough to know he’s worth having a bit of patience.” She smiles sympathetically again then indicates the tags hanging from the board. “Each of these has a horse’s name on the front, and their a.m. and p.m. feed recipe on the back. Buckets are here, and the feed is there. Each bin is labeled. Meds are in the cabinet, also labeled. We take a tag from the board, clip it to a bucket, and then fill the bucket with what the tag says. Simple, right?”

  I nod, because it makes complete sense. By labeling each bucket, we won’t mix up which horse gets which food when we distribute them. After we feed each of the horses, we begin turning them out to the pastures. Lexi is good company, and she doesn’t feel the need to talk constantly, which is nice. She seems genuine, kind, and like someone I could definitely be friends with. She went through a bad breakup recently herself, so she understands how miserable I feel. She says she’s sworn off guys for now and just wants to focus on the horses and maybe school, and I think that sounds like a brilliant idea.

  Dennis stopped by and introduced himself, made sure Lexi and I had things under control, then left to go to an auction a few hours away. He seemed a little aloof but like an overall good guy, just sort of lost inside his own head. Lexi said he’s always like that, great with horses but a bit lost with people.

  We’ve just turned out the second-to-last pair of horses, and it’s nearing lunchtime when a little red sportscar skims up the lane, stopping in front of the house.

  Lexi cocks her head to the side. “What’s Chelsea doing here?”

  Inwardly, I groan because I suspect I know. She’s here to tear my heart out even more, maybe with a rusted spoon.

  Thirty Seven

  Arion

  My head feels like I drank an entire bottle of top-shelf tequila, which I didn’t but might as well have. The empty bed is a harsh reminder of why I wish I was still drunk instead of crashing painfully back into sobriety. Maybe I should have taken Mona or Gabrielle or whatever her name was last night up on her offer to come home with me. At least then I wouldn’t be waking up in my bed alone, haunted by the ghost of a girl who left me. Twice.

  I told Chelsea about Angel leaving over numerous shots of tequila, and not a one of them made me feel like any less of an idiot. I did however waver repeatedly in my assessment of exactly why I am an idiot. Either because I let her go, or because I trusted her, or both. I’m not sure what the final consensus was, not that it matters. I’m still an idiot, and Angel is still gone.

  As far as Chelsea is concerned, I’m being an ass, but she just doesn’t understand. I recall our conversation from last night.

  “Wait, so you just left her there?” Chelsea frowned at me, shaking her head. “You didn’t try to explain or anything?”

  “What was I supposed to say?” I spread my hands defensively.

  Chelsea gaped at me, clearly baffled by what she perceived as my stupidity. “Um, that you love her and need her. That you’ll give her the time she needs, because you’re capable of being an understanding boyfriend instead of an insensitive ass.”

  Fucking Chelsea, taking Angel’s side. Dougie wasn’t much help either. He just shrugged and said sorry, but he wasn’t getting into it. Chelsea had declared her side, and he wouldn’t go against her or me, so he was maintaining a neutral position. Some friend he is. My bed offers no comfort as I toss and turn. Sleep is going to be my only reprieve, so I have no intention of getting out of bed today. I shove my head under the pillow, trying to shut out the light from the doorway. Something crinkly tickles my nose. What the fuck?

  We must have left the condom wrappers from yesterday under the pillow. A burning need to find them and throw them away consumes me. A quest for a trash bag sends me to the kitchen, and then I begin storming through the apartment, looking to eradicate any and all signs of her. I start by throwing away her K-Cups and the stupid cactus I bought her. Then the box of tampons she stuck under the sink. The brush she forgot on the counter. A tube of lip gloss. How much shit does one chick need, anyway?

  My phone rings, and I snatch it from my nightstand, trying not to look at the sketch of Angel. Caller I.D. says it’s Kevin, and I almost don’t answer because what good will whatever info he has do for me? “Hello?” I bark into the phone.

  Kevin laughs a deep, throaty laugh. “Dude, you sound like you just woke up beneath a four-hundred-pound hooker.”

  “That would be an improvement. What do you want?” I rub at my eyes, trying to chase away the bleariness, but it is internal not external and not going anywhere.

  “I’ve got an update I think you’ll want. Nick’s had a car parked outside of Tess’s mother’s house, with one of his goons keeping watch. I don’t think he’s moved on, and he definitely hasn’t forgotten. The bastard’s waiting for her to come back.”

  Fuck. Maybe Angel wasn’t paranoid. At least if he’s watching for her there, he probably doesn’t know she’s here. “Is the mom still gone?”

  “Yeah, no sign of her. How do you want me to proceed?”

  I think for a minute. Technically, Angel is no longer my problem. Realistically, she was never my problem… she was my everything. And I did swear to protect her. I’m trying to tell myself that’s all this is: me keeping my promise. But I know it’s more. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her safe. Even if she doesn’t want me anymore, I need her to be safe.

  “Do you think you can take him out?” I know what I’m asking is ludicrous. But I also know if it’s possible, Kevin would do it for me. And for Kevin, it just might be possible.

  “On my own? Fuck no. He’s just a pipsqueak, but he’s surrounded by rats. If he squeals, they’ll all come running.”

  “All right, then stand by for now while we think up something. Oh, Tess gave me the name of an officer she says is protecting him. Officer Lopez, she said.”

  “That’s helpful. I’ve got a contact in Internal Affairs back home; I’ll see if he has a contact out here he trusts. If we can separate him from Nick, we will cut off a lot of his support, and Nick will be easier to handle on his own.”

  After Kevin and I hang up, my mind is racing. Why am I putting myself out there like this for a girl who walked away from me? Kevin and I went to high school together, and after four years as a sniper in the Marines, he started his own small-time intel and security company. Usually he just helps me with small stuff, like background checks on new employees, but I know he’s done bigger jobs for other clients. He also gave me a hand with one of Lexi’s exes. He walks a fine line between the legal and not-so-legal, but he’s a good friend to have on your side.

  My temper has fizzled, and now I just feel empty. Part of me wants to call Angel and tell her what Kevin said, but she freaked out the last time I mentioned Kevin looking into Nick, so why should I expect this time to be any different? I stomp back into the bedroom and remember my mission to throw away the remnants of what will probably be the only time I ever got to make love to Angel.

  I sling my pillows from the bed, knowing I’m beyond pitiful. She’s gone, and I need to just accept it. We’re done, and that’s not going to change. I could have handled a lot of things. I knew she had baggage, and I was willing to be patient. But the one thing I couldn’t take was her abandoning me again. The condom wrappers tumble through the air like lost feathers, but it’s something else that catches my eye.

  The paper is crumbled i
nto a tiny ball, and it takes great care to unroll it without ripping it.

  Dear Arion,

  There are so many things that I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t. I thought we would have more time, but I don’t know if any amount of time would ever be enough.

  I still intend to keep my promise. From here on out, it’s just you and me. No matter how far apart we are, my heart will still be here with you. Hold onto it for me, will you? Maybe I can rebuild my wings, and then it will guide me back to you.

  A-A=0. I’m nothing without you. Wait for me?

  I have no idea when she wrote it, but I suspect it was when the cops were at the door. I clutch the crumpled paper in my hand like it’s made of pure, priceless gold. She’s right. A-A=0. I, too, am nothing without her. The truth nearly brings me to my knees. She didn’t abandon me this time, I walked away from her. So how can I fix this and get her back?

  Thirty Eight

  Angel

  Chelsea catapults herself out of her car and careens toward me on precarious-looking high heels. I brace myself for impact, already mourning the friendship I thought she and I might be able to have. Mud splashes around her, and she barely takes notice, which is a big testament to just how pissed off she is. Chelsea is not the type of girl who likes to get messy.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so pissed…” Lexi whispers beside me.

  I, on the other hand, am quite familiar with Hurricane Chelsea from our meeting in the diner, but there’s no reason to tell Lexi that. If my last experiences with Chelsea are any indication, everyone in a five-mile radius is about to hear just how I’ve wronged her and her brother.

  Chelsea stops when her feet are about two inches in front of mine, and I have to force myself not to take a step back. She shakes her head, her eyes flashing, and then she wraps her arms around me in a soft hug. “I’m so sorry; my brother is a fucking idiot.”