by Callie James
“You didn’t lose me. I’m stepping back for a while. And I don’t think you lost Guerra. I’d bet money you could resolve the entire thing with a phone call.”
“Sam hasn’t looked at me for two weeks, Adam. He’s obviously over it.”
“If he was over it, he could look at you. Why don’t you talk to him? I mean, I’ve never liked the guy. But if you love him, there’s got to be someone decent underneath that crappy attitude of his.”
My fingers tightened around his. “There is, Adam. What he shows everyone … it isn’t Sam. He’s such a sweetie. If you saw the way he treated me, you’d know he—”
My bedroom door jerked open and we jolted apart. Ryan stood in the doorway, scowling at us.
“Dude,” Adam sighed, irritated. “You scared the hell out of us. I thought it was your mom or dad.”
“Really?” Ryan said, sounding annoyed. “Well I thought you were supposed to be working.”
Adam and I glanced at each other, quickly untangling our hands as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “We were working,” he said. “And then we were talking.”
“Looked like something else,” Ryan said.
Adam’s mouth dropped open a little. So did mine. I’d never seen Ryan act like this toward Adam, and they’d been friends over ten years.
“Nope,” I said, forcing myself not to sit up and straighten my clothes, knowing how it would have looked. I shouldn’t have let Adam kiss me. I hadn’t even wanted him to, and now I felt guilty, as though I’d cheated on Sam. If I could just sleep a few hours, maybe I’d start thinking rationally again.
“I should go.” Adam looked down at me. “The foster fuckup is no doubt waiting for his car so he can get to the tavern. Probably some toenail-eating contest going on tonight that he doesn’t want to miss. You know how he gets when I’m late.”
His foster parents had proven themselves violent sociopaths on several occasions, and I worried about him, especially when he said things like that. “Thanks for the help,” I said. “Text me later?”
He frowned.
“I mean,” I said, remembering we were taking a step back, “have a good weekend.”
He winked and gave me his easy grin, grabbed his work cap and book bag, and slipped past Ryan on his way out. “Later, man.”
“See ya,” Ryan said as they exchanged nods.
When the top stair squeaked and I knew Adam could no longer hear us, I rolled onto my side. “You should have knocked. You scared the bejesus out of me. Adam, too.”
My brother stared at me hard until the front door clicked closed. “Did I interrupt what I think I interrupted? Did he just kiss you?”
One would think I’d robbed a bank, given his livid expression. I frowned and threw myself back onto the bed, my forearm over my eyes. “Yes. I let him kiss me. Better have me arrested.”
He shut the door hard, making me jump as I pulled my forearm from my eyes to watch him stalk around the bed. “Why the hell would you kiss him?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Isn’t that what everyone wants? Me with Adam?”
He threw himself into my desk chair with a loud sigh and turned to me. “Lose the damn attitude, Peyton, and talk to me.”
I didn’t want to talk, or cry, or explain myself anymore, except maybe to the one person who would no longer look at me. “You want to know how I feel? Truly?”
“Yeah.”
A lump formed in my throat.
“Well?” he said.
“Well,” I huffed. “I’m mad. I’m … I’m pissed, even, if you must know. I’ve spent weeks telling the right person no, when I wanted to say yes. Then tonight I said yes to the wrong person. It didn’t amount to anything more than a harmless kiss, but I feel so guilty I could kill myself. I’ve lost my two best friends within a few weeks of each other, and now you’re mad at me, too. Everything is messed up and I don’t know how to fix it.”
He stared at me with an expression I didn’t recognize. “You don’t get to sound like this,” he said. “Ever. Got it?”
The anger in his voice startled me. “Like what?”
“Beaten,” he said. “I mean it, stop talking like that. You’re freaking me out. What the hell has gotten into you, anyway?”
I rubbed my temples as another lack-of-sleep headache started to pound “I told you. My life is a mess. One jumbled complication after another. I can’t think.”
He glanced at my laptop screen. “You can’t think because all you do is work. You can’t keep doing this, sis. It’s unhealthy. You’re going to lose your mind, holing up here every night and weekend.”
“Reporters are harassing me when I leave and I have more work than I can ever finish. What else can I do?”
“When you dated Sam, you saw him every day, finished all your homework and the database upkeep, and you were happier than I’ve ever seen you, even with Dad constantly on your case. I could hear you through the bedroom wall, singing all the time. What happened between you two anyway? And don’t tell me it was because you found out he trains MMA fighters by actually fighting.”
My eyes widened.
“Adam told me weeks ago,” he said with a shrug. “Still, with the way you felt about him, that wouldn’t have been enough to make you walk away from him. I know you too well.”
I pulled myself into a tight sitting position and clutched a pillow. “I can’t tell you.”
“Well that’s a first,” he said, leaning my desk chair back on two legs, which I hated. “You’ve always told me everything before.”
“This is different.” I hugged the pillow tighter. “It’s between me and Sam.”
“Really? That’s funny, because he told me you found out something about him you didn’t like.”
“You talked to him?” I scooted forward. “He said that?”
“I talk to him every day, Peyton. We have sixth period together, remember?”
“Yes, but you’ve never been talking buddies before. Am I supposed to believe you’re good friends now? Because only a little while ago, you couldn’t stand that I was dating him.”
He shrugged. “Apparently, someone told him I’d dropped below a C in Weight Lifting. He took pity on me and started helping me put a little bulk on these bones.” He held up his arm and flexed it, showing a line of definition. “What’dya think?”
“Impressive.”
He dropped his arm and leaned back. “To a hamster maybe.”
I inched forward again. “So what else did he say?”
“This and that.” He wouldn’t look in my direction. “Honestly, he rarely mentions you.”
Was he toying with me? “On those rare occasions he does mention me, what does he say?”
“Just what I told you, and he only said that because I asked repeatedly.”
“That was all he said?”
“Well, that and he made a point to ask me not to tell you about his scars.”
My heart skipped a beat because Ryan’s next response might turn out to be a game-changer. “Did you tell him you’d already told me?”
He dropped his gaze to mine. “Are you insane? I want to see my eighteenth birthday, thank you very much. Oh, and he asked me not to tell you he’s helping me in Weight Lifting.” He smirked. Grunted. “Wow, I just realized I can’t keep a promise for shit.”
“But why the scars? Why is it a topic now …after we broke up?”
He shrugged. “He said it would upset you unnecessarily.”
I’d already glimpsed Sam’s midsection and those two jagged marks—a sight I still couldn’t get out of my head, along with those defined abs. I tossed the pillow aside. “Quit toying with me, Ryan, and talk to me before I lose my mind.”
“But this is so fun.”
I looked at him seriously. “Can I tell you something without you telling Sam?”
“How sweet and trusting you are after I just rolled on Sam without conscience.”
“If you swear it to me, I know you’ll take it to the grave.”
“The last time Sam and I spoke, I asked him about the scars on his face. He told me his uncle was left-handed and a mean drunk. I haven’t been able to put it from my mind. Do you think that’s what happened? The other scars I mean?”
He released the chair, dropping the front legs and his feet to the floor. “He told you that?” The horrible things people did to each other rarely surprised Ryan, but he looked shaken by what I’d told him. Maybe because he’d seen the scars and I hadn’t. “I wouldn’t begin to know how to make scars like those, but if his uncle did that to him…I say good riddance to the bastard. Seriously. I hope the psycho rots in jail.”
Nausea churned my stomach. “I handled it so badly, Ryan.”
“What?”
“The breakup.”
“There’s no such thing as a good breakup.”
“That’s my point. I didn’t want to break it off. It just …happened.” I shoved my face into my hands, feeling hot. “One thing led to another. He kept pushing me.” I looked up to see his eyes rounding. “To talk,” I clarified. “I was exhausted and still trying to process what I’d seen. That he hadn’t told me about the fighting. I couldn’t think straight, much less talk and straighten things out. When he finally came clean about that part of his past, I rewarded him by leaving. Nice, right?”
“Quit being hard on yourself. You don’t have a mean bone in your body.”
“Apparently, I do. And every time I think about it, I get sick. After I finally collapsed into sleep for two days, it occurred to me I’d been angry with Sam for not telling me about the fighting, when I’d been lying to him all along. I’ve known about the scars and didn’t say a word.”
“That’s because you want me to see my eighteenth birthday, right?”
I shook my head. “I mean, yes. It started out that way. I waited and waited for him to mention it, but he never did. After a while, knowing this about him and not saying anything became a bigger issue. Eventually it became a lie. Then the website thing blew up, the threats started, and everything morphed into crazy. When I finally got some perspective, I wanted to apologize to him. As early as that first day back at school. You know, for walking away. But I realized if we talked and worked things out, I’d need to tell him what I’ve known all along. I honestly can’t fathom how to do that. And if I don’t tell him, how can I ask him to be straight with me if I won’t be straight with him?”
“You think way too much.”
“It’s only fair.”
“I’m a dead man then, aren’t I?”
“No.” I looked down, feeling miserable. “Every time I imagine that conversation, I realize I can’t broach the subject. There’s no way to do it. In fact, I can completely see why he hasn’t told me. How do you bring something like that up?”
“Which means you should be the one to do it.”
“But now I can’t.” I wiped my nose. “If we got back together … Ryan, this project has ballooned out of my control. The reporters are so intrusive. They already printed that stuff about Adam’s family. And Sam …that video was bad enough. I don’t want to draw any more attention to him. People are waiting … no, hoping, for me to fall off the pedestal the media put me on when all of this started. What if they try talking to Sam, as they did you and Adam?” I pressed my palms to my cheeks, horrified to imagine it. “Wow, what if they did already? Maybe that’s why he won’t look at me.”
“So go talk to him. See him in secret if you have to, but go talk to him.”
“And get past that reporter following me around everywhere? How? The media is bent on discrediting my intentions, and they’re going after my friends and family to do it. If Sam and I start talking again, they’ll know he’s more than just a face in a funny video. They’d find out about his background in fighting, the trouble he’s been in, or worse, his past with his uncle.”
“You’re that worried about him?”
“Sam is private in an epic way, Ryan. He’s had so much violence in his life. Real violence. The kind that’s only touched my life once. And look how I handled it. For two months, only three people knew. I witnessed everyone at school gleefully jump on the bandwagon to believe the worst about me. I don’t want that to happen to Sam. He’s already got such a reputation. The media… they’d write the details of his life as though it were entertainment, all to make me look like a hypocrite with a corrupt agenda. Everything I’ve done would blow up, and I can’t do that to the people I’m helping. Or to Sam. Especially to Sam.”
“Like I said … you could see each other in secret. I mean, Jane Austen wishes she wrote something as romantic.”
“This is so not romantic.”
“Well, you either tell him you love him or I will,” he said. “It’s as simple as that. I’m not giving you a choice.”
My heart fluttered like a hummingbird to hear someone say it aloud. “Is it that obvious?”
“It is to me. And tell him I told you about the scars if you feel you need to. I’ve lived a full life.”
I rolled my eyes at his flair for drama. “I should wait until everything dies down.”
“Face it. You’ve waited a month, and if anything, things have ramped up. It’s like Jon said. People are as violent about bullying as they are abortion. They’re violent about violence. This is never going to die down. You have to talk to Sam now. Don’t wait until you feel better about it.”
“Now?” I stared at him. “You mean right this minute?”
“Why not?”
“Because he works Fridays.”
“He works every day. Surprise him. Go see him before you can talk yourself out of it.”
A flicker of life pulsed through me to consider it. “What about the reporter outside?”
“I have a plan for him.”
“Like?”
“Just leave him to me. Meanwhile, get in the shower and wake up. Use some eye drops for petesake. He’s going to think you’ve been crying.”
I rolled my eyes. “I have been crying.”
“Well try not to look like it.” He smirked, pulling me off the bed. “Go and let me handle the rest.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Peyton
The rain had settled into an annoying drizzle by the time we arrived at the gym parking lot. I stood next to the side door where others had exited and now clenched my parka hood tightly after the strong wind had blown it off my head three times. Only two cars remained. The Impala and a white Ford Explorer. I had no idea who owned the Explorer. Could be a new girlfriend. Someone who could take care of herself and didn’t need three people and two cars to get her to Sam. Did girls fight mixed martial arts? Maybe he was seeing someone he could relate to better. Someone who could throw a punch. Someone who didn’t need a barf bag to watch a cage match.
I turned for one of Ryan’s encouraging nods.
Feeling less than glamorous in my faux fur-lined, navy-colored coat, I shifted my foot to scratch my calf muscle. I’d worn a gold-colored sweater, jeans, and my black Durangos that looked like boots with thick heels. Ryan had said I looked great.
I felt like a loser.
The doorknob squeaked, and I pivoted to see Bobby’s face emerge from behind the door. Relief and disappointment made my shoulders sag as he spotted me.
“Hey, there!” he said.
“Hi, Bobby.”
“I didn’t know Sam was taking his girl to the party.”
His girl? Oh, No. Maybe Sam was seeing someone else and just hadn’t bothered to tell Bobby I was no longer that somebody. And a party? God, this had been a big fat mistake. I glanced at Ryan, who grinned, having no idea the humiliation I’d walked into.
“Well, come on in.” He grinned and waved me toward him. “Sammy’d kill me if I left you standing out here, especially with the worst of the storm still comin’.” The knowledge that Ryan would be waiting for me helped propel me forward. Once inside, I dropped my hood back and followed Bobb
y through a dark corridor. I’d forgotten what a maze this place was, never mind the heebie-jeebies that came with navigating it in the dark. “Sam was still showerin’ last I checked,” Bobby said, “but you can wait here.”
He led me into a bright office where I stood holding my elbows and feeling stupid. I should have texted Sam.
“Got to head home myself,” he said. “Can I get you a Coke or water or something before I go?”
I shook my head. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
His head dipped. “You too. Be safe in this weather. It’s supposed to be hell on earth tonight.”
The wind picked up after Bobby left, making the building creak. To keep my mind off the creep factor of this place, I drifted around the office, glancing at pictures until I walked into an adjacent room with a narrow, full-sized bed and large chest. Also a table, television, microwave and laptop. Jonas’s home away from home.
My dad slept at work, too. A lot lately.
I pushed the gloomy thought away and walked back into the office, examining the numerous pictures on the walls. I passed the same faces and smiles, watching five young boys age in each picture. Jonas’ boys, I gathered. Sam had mentioned the man had a brood. Some pictures had a blonde woman, presumably his wife. Most captured matches—ring and cage. My eyes stopped on one in particular. Sam. I’d recognize his eyes anywhere, even on a young boy holding a large gold belt and wearing a huge grin. His hero-worshipping gaze wasn’t for the camera though, but the man next to him—an older Sam, who stared at his son with adoration. His dad’s hair was black, similar to Savanna’s, and his smile had a slant to it that reminded me of her devious grin. Otherwise, I was looking at Sam. Isabel Guerra likely found herself staring at her son on a regular basis.
“Peyton?”
I swung around to see Sam standing in the doorway. “Sam.” I struggled for something important or intelligent to say. “Hi.”
A line formed between his eyebrows. Not a great sign. “What are you doing here?”
“Bobby let me in.”
“I figured out that part.”
His hair looked combed and damp, almost black. He wore faded jeans and a black t-shirt, only this time he wore nothing to cover his upper arms. The shirt pulled across his defined chest and biceps, showing muscles so taut it became difficult to focus on anything else. Tattoos stretched past his shirt to his elbows. I longed to see what images he’d liked enough to etch permanently onto his body. “It feels warmer in here than when I first walked in. Did you turn up the heat?”