Crashing Into Love

by Melissa Foster

  “Why does he have your key?” Delilah asks. “I thought he had his own.” She’s tall and thin and so naturally pretty I’m sure girls want to hate her when they first meet her, but the minute she speaks, you just can’t. She’s too sweet and genuinely caring to hate.

  “He lost it, so I gave him mine. He was supposed to come get me, remember?” It’s a lie, and I hate lying to them. He took my key because he’s crazy jealous. Hopefully, I can just run inside and Kyle won’t ask about how I got there, but I need my key. Kyle thinks if I don’t have my key, I won’t leave the apartment because I won’t be able to get back in. He’s taken my key before, and I usually just roll my eyes at his stupidity. I mean, I get it. His dad cheated on his mom, so he has trust issues, but come on. I’d never cheat. I’ve never cheated on a boyfriend in my life, not that I’ve had many boyfriends to cheat on.

  Ten minutes later Wyatt parks behind the furniture store where Kyle works. “Cass, you sure he’s working? The lights are off.”

  When he says my name, it’s softer, buffered from the tension I see in the bunching of his shoulder muscles.

  “Yeah, they closed at eight, and his car is right there, so he’s probably just clocking out.” I unhook my seat belt and stare at the dark building, glad Wyatt is with me because for some reason, it looks dark and eerie.

  “I’ll go with you.” Wyatt opens his door. “I’ll be right back, Dee.”

  I get out of the car thinking about how much I love when he calls Delilah Dee. They are really close, and given their strict parents, I have no idea how they both turned out so awesome. Their parents love them so much, they do too much for them, whereas I think my parents love me, but I’ve always felt kind of like a third wheel. Wyatt’s parents called and checked on them before practically every test and afterward to check on their grades. It drove Wyatt and Delilah nuts, and while I get it, it sure did magnify how hands-off my parents are. They make sure I have what I need, but that’s about it. Who wouldn’t feel like an imposition or an afterthought with parents who went to Europe for the summer and missed their only daughter’s college graduation? I guess I’m used to it, so it doesn’t really bother me as much as it did when I was younger. They’re even not openly affectionate toward me, which might be why, after two years, I still haven’t told Kyle that I love him, even though he tells me all the time. Or maybe it’s because I’m not really sure what being in love feels like. I know it’s different from just loving someone, but I’ve never felt the kind of passion I see in movies—or the love I see my parents lavish on each other. It’s like my parents use up their love on each other and there’s not much left for me.

  We walk across the dark lot, and I notice Wyatt doing that thing he does, where he scans the area like he’s Chuck Norris readying for a battle. He’s always done it. Even as a kid. Actually, maybe that’s a throwback from his parents always telling him and Delilah to be careful of…well, of everything under the sun.

  “We should use the delivery door. He always tells me to go to that one.” I knock on the heavy metal door, and we stand there in the dark listening to each other breathe for what feels like half an hour. I knock again and stuff my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.

  “Sure he’s here?” Wyatt asks again.

  I nod toward his car at the other end of the parking lot.

  “Why do you let him get away with this shit?”

  The muscles in Wyatt’s jaw bunch as he clenches his teeth. I know how much he hates Kyle. It’s not like he tries to hide it, but Kyle has redeeming qualities. When he’s with me and it’s just the two of us, he’s affectionate and caring. He can be funny and he’s really smart, which I admire. When we go out together, he’s attentive and fun, even if mildly possessive. I know he loves me. He just gets jealous, especially of Wyatt because we’re so close. Thinking about it makes my stomach hurt. When Kyle sees me with Wyatt, he’ll bitch a blue streak. Not in front of Wyatt, of course, but I’ll hear about it later for sure.

  Wyatt shifts his eyes to Kyle’s car, then pulls on the metal door, which swings open and surprises us both. The inside of the building is dark. Wyatt shrugs and waves a hand in front of him, like I should go on in.

  “Will you wait for me here?” I wish I knew where the lights were.

  “I’m coming with you, Cass.”

  He steps inside, and I press my hand against his chest, feeling the wall of muscles beneath my palm. Wyatt’s built like one of those models you see in Abercrombie ads, six foot two of sculpted, tanned perfection. As we’re having our little stare-off in the doorway of the furniture store, it occurs to me for the hundredth time that it’s no wonder Kyle is jealous of him. Wyatt is totally hot. But he’s also my best friend, and we’ve never crossed any lines between friendship and something more. I’ve never really gotten that flirty vibe from Wyatt before, at least not the same vibes he gives off to the girls he sleeps with—those vibes that heat up a whole room and steal my breath just thinking about how lucky those girls are.

  “Please wait here.” I don’t feel like dealing with Kyle’s jealousy.

  He pushes past me with a yeah, right narrow-eyed stare. “Let you go into a dark building by yourself? I don’t think so. Come on. Let’s find him and get the hell out of here. We have a party to go to.”

  I roll my eyes, because as much as I want to spend my last night with Wyatt and Delilah before I take off with Kyle to spend the summer with his parents on Martha’s Vineyard, I’m not really in the mood for a party. And as we walk down the dark hallway, I get more irritated by the second. I hate that Wyatt has to rescue me again after Kyle left me hanging. Wyatt never seems to mind, but still.

  “Where is he?” Wyatt snaps. “And where are the lights in this place?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s in the office.” I point down a hall and hear a loud bang. I gasp and grab Wyatt, who does what he always does when I’m startled, or when I’m sad, or when I want to talk about something important. He drapes an arm over my shoulder.

  “Really, Cass? It’s a furniture store. They’re probably moving furniture.” He leads me down the hall and slows as the noises become clearer.

  My stomach clenches tight. “Is that…?” Moaning and sex sounds? I stand there for a second, my jaw hanging open and my heart slamming against my chest.

  “Stay here.” Wyatt stalks ahead of me with his hands fisting at his sides, and all I can think about is that Kyle will get pissed if employees are fooling around in the store. He’s so careful about making sure everything is perfect, staying late for inventory when other employees don’t show up and setting up the displays by himself in the evenings so no one else has to miss out on studying or late classes. I guess he won’t have to worry about that now that school is over.

  Wyatt stops in front of the stockroom door and holds a hand up for me to stay put. As Wyatt pushes the door open, it dawns on me that Kyle hasn’t returned my last text. I pull out my phone and scroll through my texts. I must not have felt the text come through.

  Hey, babe. Gonna be late. Shipment just came in.

  That’s when I recognize the sounds and realize who’s behind that closed door. With my heart in my throat, I reach for Wyatt as he steps into the room and flips on a light.

  “What the fuck?” Kyle yells.

  Wyatt turns and grabs me by the shoulders before I can get into the room.

  “Go out to the car, Cassidy.” Wyatt’s face ices over and just as quickly turns threatening, which I know is not meant for me but for Kyle.

  “No. What’s he doing?” I push against Wyatt, but he’s too strong, and he pushes me backward.

  “Fucking Wyatt.” Kyle sounds pissed and out of breath.

  “You don’t need to see this. Go to Delilah.” Wyatt pushes me out of the doorway and into Delilah’s arms. I didn’t even know she’d come into the building. I can’t stop the tears from escaping or my limbs from fighting as I try to get into the room. “Kyle!”

  “Fuck. It’s not what it looks like
,” Kyle hollers.

  Delilah peers around Wyatt’s shoulders. “Oh my God.”

  “Take her out, Dee. Now.” Wyatt’s eyes narrow. His tone leaves no room for negotiation.

  I twist out of her arms and burst past Wyatt into the stockroom. Oh my God. I can’t breathe. Kyle and some whore are scrambling to put on their clothes.

  “Who are these people?” the girl screeches in an annoyingly high voice as she wiggles into a skirt. Bitch.

  I’m frozen in place, shaking all over, trying to process what I’m seeing. Somewhere deep in my head a spear is tearing into the knowledge that the guy I gave my virginity to, the guy I trusted with my heart, the guy I spent the last two years of my life with, is fucking some other girl like I don’t exist.

  “Dee, take her outside. Now.” As Wyatt grabs my shoulders and guides me back into Delilah’s arms, my eyes lock on Kyle. His face is beet red, but it isn’t his face that makes me feel like I might puke; it’s his limp dick, sheathed in a condom.

  “You fucker! You asshole! How could you—” I can barely hear myself scream past the rush of blood in my ears. Everything seems like it’s in slow motion. Kyle’s mouth is moving, but I can’t hear a word. Wyatt is in front of me, holding me back. Kyle spreads his arms out like he can somehow explain it all away. My legs turn to rubber, and I feel Delilah dragging me backward. How can this be happening? After two years, how? Why?

  Wyatt turns on Kyle. I’ve never seen him so angry, fists flexing, muscles burgeoning, ready to attack. The last thing I see as Delilah drags me out of the room is Wyatt’s massive arm coiling back and the shocked expression on Kyle’s face. I hear a bunch of noises as we hurry down the hallway. The bitch is screaming, the guys are shouting, but it is all a blur, and when Delilah opens the door and the night air hits me, I collapse into her arms, yelling against her chest.

  “He’s an asshole!”

  Delilah rubs my back, trying to soothe me. It doesn’t help.

  “Forget him. He’s a jerk. Wyatt will take care of him.”

  Why do I feel bad that Wyatt is probably beating the shit out of him? My chest feels like it’s going to explode, and my limbs feel weak as Delilah leads me to the car, like I’m the one who’s been through a battle.

  “My key,” I manage.

  “Wyatt will get it. I’m sorry, Cassidy. I’m so sorry.” Delilah stands beside me as I lean against the car.

  She’s been there for me as often as Wyatt has. The one thought that fights its way past the chaos in my head is how lucky I am to have them with me now and to have them in my life altogether. I can’t stop shaking. I take one gulp of air after another, trying to regain control.

  The door to the building flies open and slams against the brick wall. Wyatt looks like the Hulk, dragging Kyle by the back of his shirt as he closes the distance between us. I spin around and face the car. I don’t want to look at Kyle. I can’t. I’m too hurt, too angry. And too humiliated to face Wyatt.

  “Tell her.” Wyatt’s guttural command slices through the night.

  “Jesus, Wyatt,” Delilah says just above a whisper.

  Kyle doesn’t say anything.

  “Tell. Her.” I can tell by Wyatt’s voice that he’s straining to rein in his anger.

  I turn, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else, like when you can’t look away from a car accident. Kyle’s eye is swollen shut, and his lower lip is torn and bleeding. Wyatt squeezes Kyle’s jaw between his fingers and thumb. The skin beneath his hand is white from the pressure.

  “Wyatt.” It comes out as a shaky whisper. I’ve seen fights before, but knowing Wyatt did that to Kyle and that it was because of me makes me scared, embarrassed, and sad all at once.

  Wyatt ignores my plea.

  “Fucking tell her. Now, you asshole,” Wyatt says through gritted teeth.

  Kyle’s eyes lock on mine, and I think I see remorse beneath the fear. “It’s not what it—”

  Wyatt silences him with a punch to the jaw, sending Kyle stumbling backward. Wyatt grabs him by the collar again and pulls his fist back. Kyle’s hands fly up in surrender.

  I realize that it isn’t remorse I see in Kyle’s eyes, and I hate him even more than I did a minute ago.

  “I’ll tell her!” Kyle spits, probably a mouthful of blood, and looks sheepishly at me.

  I’m shaking so hard that when Delilah reaches for my hand, I can’t hold on to it. How many times have I looked into his eyes and believed he loved me? How many lies has he told me? I have to look away again.

  “Now,” Wyatt demands.

  “I’ve been sleeping with her for six months,” Kyle admits, and my breath leaves me in a rush of hot air. “But it didn’t mean anything. I swear it.”

  Wyatt shoves him hard, and Kyle tumbles to the pavement. Wyatt looms over him, his chest heaving with anger. “Didn’t fucking mean anything? It meant something to Cassidy, you asshole. If I ever find you near her again, I. Will. Kill. You. Now give me your fucking keys.”

  “I’m not—” Kyle holds up his hands to ward off another blow from Wyatt. Then he digs his keys out of his pocket and tosses them to him.

  “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Wyatt says in a dead calm voice that stills my heart. “We’re going to get Cassidy’s shit out of your apartment, and you will not show up there for at least two hours. We’ll leave your keys inside, and you sure as shit better not show up, or I swear to you I’ll finish the job.” Wyatt starts to walk away, then turns back and crouches beside Kyle, pinning him to the ground with a dark stare.

  “You were never good enough for her.”

  (End of Sneak Peek)

  To continue reading, be sure to pick up

  CATCHING CASSIDY (Harborside Nights)

  Please enjoy a preview of another

  Love in Bloom novel

  Game of

  LOVE

  The Remingtons

  Love in Bloom Series

  Melissa Foster

  Chapter One

  DEX REMINGTON WALKED into NightCaps bar beside his older brother Sage, an artist who also lived in New York City, and Regina Smith, his employee and right arm. Women turned in their direction as they came through the door, their hungry eyes raking over Dex’s and Sage’s wide shoulders and muscular physiques. At six foot four, Sage had two inches on Dex, and with their striking features, dark hair, and federal-blue eyes, heads spun everywhere they went. But after Dex had worked thirty of the last forty-eight hours, women were the furthest thing from his mind. His four-star-general father had ingrained hard work and dedication into his head since he was old enough to walk, and no matter how much he rued his father’s harsh parenting, following his lead had paid off. At twenty-six, Dex was one of the country’s leading PC game designers and the founder of Thrive Entertainment, a multimillion-dollar gaming corporation. His father had taught him another valuable lesson—how to become numb—making it easy for him to disconnect from the women other men might find too alluring to ignore.

  Dex was a stellar student. He’d been numb for a very long time.

  “Thanks for squeezing in a quick beer with me,” he said to Sage. They had about twenty minutes to catch up before his scheduled meeting with Regina and Mitch Anziano, another of his Thrive employees. They were going to discuss the game they were rolling out in three weeks, World of Thieves II.

  “You’re kidding, right? I should be saying that to you.” Sage threw his arm around Dex’s shoulder. They had an ongoing rivalry about who was the busiest, and with Sage’s travel and gallery schedule and Dex working all night and getting up midday, it was tough to pick a winner.

  “Thrive!” Mitch hollered from the bar in his usual greeting. Mitch used Thrive! to greet Dex in bars the way others used, Hey. He lifted his glass, and a smile spread across his unshaven cheeks. At just over five foot eight with three-days’ beard growth trailing down his neck like fur and a gut that he was all too proud of, he was what the world probably thought all game designers looked like. And worth his
weight in gold. Mitch could outprogram anyone, and he was more loyal than a golden retriever.

  Regina lifted her chin and elbowed Dex. “He’s early.” She slinked through the crowded bar, pulling Dex along behind her. Her Levi’s hung low, cinched across her protruding hip bones by a studded black leather belt. Her red hoodie slipped off one shoulder, exposing the colorful tattoos that ran across her shoulder and down her arms.

  Mitch and Regina had been Dex’s first employees when he’d opened his company. Regina handled the administrative aspects of the company, kept the production schedule, monitored the program testing, and basically made sure nothing slipped through the cracks, while Mitch, like Dex, conceptually and technically designed games with the help of the rest of Thrive’s fifty employees—developers, testers, and a host of programmers and marketing specialists.

  Regina climbed onto the barstool beside Mitch and lifted his beer to her lips.

  “Order ours yet?” she asked with a glint in her heavily lined dark eyes. She ran her hand through her stick-straight, jet-black hair.

  Dex climbed onto the stool beside her as the bartender slid beers in front of him and Regina. “Thanks, Jon. Got a brew for my brother?”

  “Whatever’s on tap,” Sage said. “Hey, Mitch. Good to see you.”

  Mitch lifted his beer with a nod of acknowledgment.

  Dex took a swig of the cold ale, closed his eyes, and sighed, savoring the taste.

  “Easy, big boy. We need you sober if you wanna win a GOTY.” Mitch took a sip of Regina’s beer. “Fair’s fair.”

  Regina rolled her eyes and reached a willowy arm behind him, then mussed his mop of curly dark hair. “We’re gonna win Game of the Year no matter what. Reviewers love us. Right, Dex?”

  Thrive had already produced three games, one of which, World of Thieves, had made Dex a major player in the gaming world—and earned him millions of dollars. His biggest competitor, KI Industries, had changed the release date for their new game. KI would announce the new date publicly at midnight, and since their game was supposed to be just as hot of a game as they expected World of Thieves II to be, if they released close to the release for World of Thieves II, there would be a clear winner and a clear loser. Dex had worked too hard to be the loser.