Sparks Fly (Davis Brothers Book 1)

by Nicole Douglas

Campus itself is safe to walk at any time of night. But the surrounding area? Not so much. I receive weekly emails from the university about students being mugged for their laptops, cell phones and petty cash in their pockets.

  She was easy prey for the kind of people that lived along the outskirts of campus. I would know. They’re the kind of people I’m well acquainted with.

  Most students were too lost in oblivion to pay attention to their surroundings. Given my upbringing I couldn’t afford such a thoughtless luxury. Maybe that familiarity with the darkness is what compelled me to look out for this naïve girl. She had no business being out here alone. I grew up a healthy distance from this side of town but spent a lot of my time not far from here. I knew what lurked in the shadows.

  On certain nights I was what lurked in the shadows.

  She begins walking toward campus again for several seconds and I make a quick decision. Pulling my car to the side of the road I take a deep breath and cautiously get out. She stops in her tracks a few yards ahead of me. Hoping I don't live to regret leaving my car in the hub of robberies and carjacking I lock the doors and pocket my keys.

  I start walking in her direction careful not to move too suddenly and frighten her even more.

  "What are you doing?" She asks shakily. She’s purposefully not looking at me but I know I’m her sole focus at the moment. Her awareness of me emanates and I can feel her warm brown eyes casting me worried glances that she tries to hide from me. I’m a pro at reading people, noticing nuances, and she’s no exception.

  "I understand if you don't want to ride in the car with a stranger but I'm at least walking you home." I explain. Hopefully my calmness can set her at ease. I’m not going to hurt her and I want her to know that. If I was planning on it I would’ve made my move by now. "I'll come back for my car."

  "Why would you want to do that?" She sounded thoroughly perplexed why I was so concerned about her wellbeing.

  She had a point. I didn’t really know the answer to that myself. There was just something about her that drew me in. Made me want to get her safely home.

  God knows I had done enough shitty things in my life and this was one decent thing I could do. It didn't make up for my past. But I could pretend at least for tonight that I was a better man than my father. My brother. That’s the only motivation I’m willing to acknowledge.

  It damn sure wasn’t because she was so beautiful she drew me into her orbit and kept me going back to the coffee shop to study even though I didn’t like coffee.

  Definitely not that.

  Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a stalker. But seeing her from time to time reminded me of why I was in college to begin with. To break free. To be better. Seeing a sweet girl like her brought back the reality of what normal people were like and I desperately needed that reminder from time to time.

  I had never been the most social guy. I preferred to sit back and observe what was going on around me rather than jump in headfirst without a plan. That was more my brother’s style. As kids we balanced each other out, him not letting me get too lost in myself and me not letting him get too caught up in the world we were thrown into.

  Lately it seems like we’ve given up trying to throw out lifelines to each other and mostly just try to stay out of the other’s way.

  She eyes me suspiciously, her focus lingering on the tattoo peeking out from under my sleeve. After a lengthy pause she seems to accept my answer. We fall into a casual pace and I'm careful to keep some distance between us for her comfort.

  She may be quietly accepting my presence but she still wants nothing to do with me. She’s on edge. Her shoulders are tense and ready to run if need be.

  I don’t want to push my luck.

  The wind lifts her hair and gently swirls it around her face. She folds her arms across her chest, fighting off the chilly breeze. I wish I had a jacket back in my car to have offered her when we started this walk but I didn’t. I usually didn’t need one until winter and hadn’t even dug my long sleeves out of the back of my closet yet for the fall season.

  I stealthily glanced over at her exposed legs and noticed the goose bumps speckling her otherwise flawless skin. I inch closer to her as we keep our brisk pace. She either doesn’t notice or chooses not to comment.

  My larger frame blocks some of the wind from assaulting her.

  "I'm Max."

  "Lacey."

  I still don't know what happened to her tonight but as I take in her disheveled blond hair and skittish behavior I make some quick assumptions.

  "You do live on campus, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "First year here?"

  "Yeah."

  "Want me to shut up?" I ask, smirking as she opens her mouth to shoot off another automatic affirmation before registering what I said.

  Then she cracks a smile.

  It's not a full smile. It doesn’t light up her face like I’ve seen at the coffee shop when she’s talking to a regular or laughing with co-workers.

  It's really more just the corner of her lip twitching in amusement. But it's genuine and I find it far more endearing than I should.

  "No." She says softly, looking over at me as we walk. "I'm sorry if I'm being rude. I'm not normally like this…I just..."

  "It's ok. You don't have to explain anything to me." I interject when she trails off, eyes brimming with tears. We walk in silence for several minutes and just when I think the conversation is over she surprises me.

  "I'm a freshman. I took a year off before starting school."

  "I'm a junior." I add, wanting to give her some information about myself. "I started right after high school, partied every night, drank my weight in tequila, and almost failed every class my first semester."

  I suppose my statement wasn’t the most comforting but it was honest. My honesty earns me a soft laugh and I find myself fighting the urge to walk closer to her, drawn to the sound of her sweet voice.

  My stomach sinks as I realize I’m practiced at making girls feel comfortable with me. It’s my standard MO. In the past that’s when I struck, taking them down into a black hole.

  But that’s not who I wanted to be anymore. That’s not why I wanted to talk to Lacey tonight or to walk her home. I had no ulterior motive. No selfish plans.

  A car passes us and she jumps, shooting me a sheepish glance after the fact. She was embarrassed by her reaction. I keep talking as if I didn’t notice, not wanting to draw more attention to it.

  "The only class I passed that semester was finance so I decided that was a good major to declare."

  "You didn't know what degree you wanted when you started school?"

  "Nah. I just knew I needed to go to college so I did. I figured I would find out what I wanted to do when I got here."

  "I wish I could have done that."

  "Why couldn't you?"

  We walk up to an older apartment complex and she leads me to the parking lot in front of her building. Red bricks with black trim. The metal handrails for the stairs were long ago painted black and are now peeling off in large flakes, exposing the rusty metal underneath. The steps are the type you can see down when walking up.

  "There's no way my parents would have let that happen. Not as long as they’re paying my tuition. They already let me take off the first year to travel a bit and have a break from school.”

  "It's your choice. You shouldn't let anyone make you do anything you don't want to."

  Her face pales at my words and I suddenly feel like a total ass for being the reason for her distress. Judging by her reaction, I have a sickening feeling I know what happened to her tonight.

  I hope like hell I’m wrong.

  Before I can ask her about it a bright red douche-y sports car flies into the parking lot and the door swings open. A guy climbs out of the ridiculously low vehicle, glaring right at us. Or more accurately, right at her. It doesn’t look like he’s noticed me standing here yet.

  She pales a shade lighter and takes a step back, holdin
g onto the railing to steady her balance.

  "Max." She whispers weakly, her widened eyes glued straight ahead.

  Her fear is thick. Palpable.

  I don’t know what the hell is going on right now but I take a step in front of her, not completely blocking this jackass’s view of her but close enough to intercept if needed. Seeing her terrified of this guy does something to me. My adrenaline skyrockets, shooting a desire to protect her through my veins.

  Chapter 3

  Lacey

  David is heading right for me with deliberate, livid steps and I'm frozen in place. I didn't expect him to come to my apartment looking for me. Not tonight. I expected to have a day or so to work through each torturous second of tonight and decide on a course of action.

  Call the cops?

  Just ignore his calls and hope he leaves me alone?

  Then again I guess nothing about this night is what I would have expected.

  Max stands slightly ahead of me in a causal stance that doesn't fit the circumstances. He has no clue what monster is descending on us. On me.

  Miraculously his presence calms me enough that I can stand upright and let go of the metal railing. Leaning on it for support isn’t the most reliable idea considering how old the building is. Parts of the railing have rusted completely through and broken off. Maintenance never replaced them or anything else around here. The last thing I need tonight is to fall on my face on the concrete trying to cling to this cold, weakened metal like a lifeline.

  I instinctually inch closer to Max and brace for the argument I know is coming. Not long ago it was Max I was ready to haul ass away from. Funny how quickly things change when faced with your worst nightmare in the flesh.

  "Why did you leave?" David demands loudly. Was he trying to wake all the neighbors so he has a bigger audience to terrorize me in front of? I don’t answer him so he keeps on yelling and berating me. "We obviously need to talk about what happened. I don’t like the way you’ve been acting."

  He seems to finally notice Max standing there and shoots a menacing glare between us as if suspicious of our relationship. As if I was the untrustworthy party in this joke of a relationship. Little does he know I officially met Max under an hour ago and wouldn't even know him at all beyond a mysterious, slightly bizarre coffee shop customer if it weren't for David raping me.

  Rape.

  He raped me.

  I hadn't had time to process what happened to me yet, what with Max imposing himself into my walk home. I was grateful for that now. The dreaded R-word sends tears streaming down my cheeks again before I can pull myself together. I haven’t cried so much all year and I deeply resent that David has reduced me to a sniffling, emotionally unstable mess in such a short time.

  "I have nothing to say to you."

  "That's not true." He scoffs and takes a step closer to me from the opposite side of Max.

  Did he actually believe the words coming out of his mouth? That I would just follow him back to his apartment, sleep next to him and tomorrow we could talk about this?

  Abuse was a deal breaker. Cheating was a deal breaker. Combined? I don’t even have a word to articulate that. Fuck no. That’s what that was called.

  "I don't want to talk to you."

  "Stop being dramatic, babe. Just come back with me and we can talk in the morning-"

  I feel myself growing hysterical at his persistence. His mere presence. I can’t even look at his arrogant face.

  "I said no!"

  "Alright that's enough." Max butts in. "It's time for you to go."

  "Who the fuck is this guy?" David looks right past Max and addresses me. I hate that I cower under his gaze. "Have you been fucking him? Is that it? You’ve been whoring around. That’s why you haven’t wanted to fuck me?”

  His words are a slap in the face and I gasp in shock. Max maneuvers himself to block David completely from my view. Apparently he’s had it with the bullshit and doesn’t want to keep playing this game.

  Good.

  "She said she doesn't want to talk to you. Fuck off."

  David makes another move toward me and apparently it’s the last straw. Max shoves him hard in the chest causing David to stumble back several steps. He only regains his balance because he bumps into his precious car.

  I watch on horrified as fists start flying in a blur. I'm vaguely aware that Max has inched the fight further from me as I cling onto the stair railing once again. Blinds peek open from the apartments across the lot but after seeing it’s just a fight, they close back unconcerned.

  Drunken Friday night fights aren’t unheard of around here.

  Although they’re about the same size and build Max seems to have much more experience in fights. That’s obvious from the first punch. I can see it with my own eyes, knowing next to nothing about fights.

  It doesn’t take a genius to see it though. He clearly has the upper hand, maneuvering their struggle to where he wants, far enough away from me so I wouldn’t end up in the crossfire. How is it possible to be thoughtful in the middle of a violent altercation?

  Seeing his brute strength should probably scare me but it doesn't. In this moment Max is my defender and I'm comforted by the precision in his movements. The flexing and rippling in his muscles as he blocks a swing from David effortlessly. I remained confident he wouldn't hurt me or he would have done so on our walk home when he had the opportunity.

  A chill ran over my skin at the idea that he was stronger, more powerful than David and look what he had done to me tonight. I felt powerless and terrified by his strength. What made Max’s different? He may be an ally for the time being but that didn’t mean I knew him.

  I shook off those thoughts. David had been a snake in the grass. Trusting him for nearly a year had been the biggest mistake in my life. Thus far at least. I couldn’t imagine many things worse in life than what he had done to me.

  Suddenly the bloodshed dissipates and David hunches forward, catching his breath. The two guys stare each other down for several tense moments. Max’s back was to me but as far as I could see from this angle, his energy wasn’t as spent. If need be he could keep going and his posture told David the same.

  Try me. It said. I’m ready for you.

  David turns to leave, spitting blood into the concrete walkway. "I hope you didn't plan on fucking her tonight because I've already had her." He shouts hatefully as he climbs back into his car, smirking in satisfaction as my cheeks blush so deeply I can feel the heat. He sends a pointed look between my legs. "Might be a little messy down there."

  Max lunges toward him again, the muscles in his arms tensing with aggression and adrenaline. David lets out a laugh that echoes across the parking lot, amused by the reaction, and peels off before Max reaches him. Tears of humiliation stream down my cheeks, chasing the tears of pain, and I turn away from Max to hide my face from view.

  His footsteps fall softly on the paved walkway as he cautiously approaches me like I’m a frightened animal that may take off running at the slightest movement. I anticipate him asking if I'm ok like he’s already done several times tonight.

  He doesn't.

  "So who's the fucking douche bag?"

  I let out the breath I was holding. I can't help but laugh and I'm surprised at how easily Max is able to bring that out of me on the worst night of my life. It’s more of a release of tension than an actual laugh but it still counts. He makes me feel…lighter.

  "My boyfriend...ex-boyfriend."

  He lifts an eyebrow but doesn't question me further. I'm sure he had gathered as much from the exchange he witnessed. Still, I can't bring myself to add anything more.

  My focus drifts from his hazel eyes to his lips and I take a step closer. His bottom lip is swollen and split down the middle, blood caking in the corner where it pooled. Guilt surges inside my chest. I dragged this Good Samaritan that volunteered to walk me home into a fist fight in the parking lot of my apartment.

  Who the heck does that?

  “You
're bleeding."

  He shrugs and his lips lift at the corners. A hint of dimples sink in each cheek as if he's fighting a smile. "I've had worse, Lacey. I'll be fine."

  I stare up at him thoroughly unconvinced. Less than twenty minutes ago there was no way in hell I was going to let this man in my apartment. But now?

  "Come upstairs and let me help. You need to clean it up."

  He stares back at me for several beats and I sense that he's trying to read any hesitation from my expression. When he finds none he nods and follows me upstairs, his shoes heavily thudding the rickety steps below me. I unlock my door with trembling fingers, shaken by the evening I've had. Everything is catching up to me and I feel on the verge of a meltdown like no other. My nerves are completely shot.

  Max waits patiently behind me, giving me space to unlock it on my own. I see him watching my shaking hands from the corner of my eye but he makes no move to grab the keys. I appreciate the distance, giving me a second to pull myself together.

  Finally I’m able to get the damn door open. I feel self-conscious about my fretful demeanor but thankfully he still doesn't comment on it.

  "The bathroom is this way." I lead him down the narrow hallway to the guest bathroom, which sits across the hall from my bedroom. I pull the door to my bedroom shut promptly, effectively cutting off his view of my bed and clothes scattered on the floor, and open the door of the bathroom.

  I gesture him inside and he complies obediently, flipping on the light. His large frame takes up most of the room and I linger in the doorway, stretching to open the medicine cabinet above the sink and pull out the never opened first-aid kit without brushing against him.

  His lips quirk in that signature smirk I’m beginning to associate with him as he eyes the kit. He's openly amused that I think he needs a first-aid kit but sits down on the toilet without complaint. I pull out the bottle of peroxide and soak a cotton swab, handing it to him.

  “You need it. God knows what was on his hands. He probably gave you an incurable disease just now.”

  He laughs and holds eye contact as he presses the cotton to his bottom lip gingerly. When he pulls it away it’s lightly soaked in red. I cringe at the sight.