by Callie James
The first time I’d seen her had been the same year. She’d looked so innocent. She looked innocent still. Those large, blue eyes. That shy smile. Jason fucking Thompson might have taken it all away had she not reacted as quickly as she had. “I should have asked you out that first time.”
“You mean that day in freshman hall?”
It was insane to consider and pointless to mention, but I nodded. “My life was royally screwed at the time. But I wanted to talk to you. To know you. I just wasn’t ready for you to know me.”
“I wished you had asked me out,” she said softly, “but not for the reason you’re thinking.”
“You never would have gone out with him.”
“No. But would we be here? Like this? Because I wouldn’t trade this, Sam. Even to erase that moment with Jason.”
I let out a slow breath to see the honesty in her eyes. “Probably not,” I said softly. “I was so pissed back then. At everything. I had a bad temper and zero patience. I might have been a gentleman for a couple of weeks, max. But I would have pressured you. Until you gave in or you got rid of me. We wouldn’t have lasted a month.”
“I would not have gotten rid of you,” she said, eyes wide and appalled. “Besides, I can’t imagine you as anything but sweet to me.” She brushed her fingertips through the hair at my temple. “You would have waited until I was ready. I know it. I know you, Sam. You would have waited.”
She did know me. She probably would have had me wrapped around her finger even then. “Maybe. But I’m glad you didn’t know me. Especially that year.”
She pressed her hand against mine, the contrast of our skin stark under the light. “Your uncle came back only a week or two before that happened with Jason. You hadn’t come to school for a while after.” Her face softened. “That’s why you didn’t hear about it when it was the hot news. The football scholarship. His potential. The tragedy of it all.”
“Complete bullshit.” I scowled. “I want to beat the crap out of him. Actually, I want to kill him, but now he’s dead and I can’t do shit.”
She considered what I’d said with thoughtful eyes. “Jon never left my side that last month before graduation. But watching over me wasn’t enough for him. A few days after it happened, he and Adam jumped Jason from behind and pounded him as a warning to stay away and keep his mouth shut. Does that make you feel better?”
I looked at her. “Did they hospitalize him?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t feel better. Although I like your friends more.”
“I didn’t know about it until last year, actually,” she said, frowning. “Adam finally fessed up after he drank too much at a party and got into confession mode. My guess is that Jason never retaliated because he hadn’t wanted the truth to come out.” Her gaze lifted to mine. “Can you imagine that? An eighth-grader and freshman getting the jump on a senior? Jason Thompson, no less? I can’t even picture it.”
I dropped down next to her. “Why didn’t you deny the rumor? Just tell everyone the truth?”
“Because it seemed worse…anyone finding out the truth. I can’t explain why. And when I didn’t deny it, my rep just grew from there. Any guy I went out with… let’s just say by the time I’d make it to a second date, it would get back to me what they were saying…” Her voice drifted off and she rested her cheek against my bicep to close her heavy eyelids. “I hate this subject, Sam. It was horrible, but it happened three years ago. Now we have this. I just want to focus on being happy.”
I looked at those long lashes and the soft angles of her face. “Is that why your dad melted down about the bruises on my face?”
She nodded, gazing up. “After Jason did that, I was so humiliated that I didn’t tell my parents. When he died, they insisted I go to the funeral. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. That’s when Ryan told them everything. I’d never heard my dad cry before that day. He completely broke down in the foyer. On his knees and everything. He’s never stopped blaming himself.” She closed her eyes, her chin trembling. “Please be patient with him, Sam. He’ll see how well you treat me and he’ll get past this. Right now we have to give him time.”
I settled my head on the pillow. “There you go inspiring me again.”
“Mmm,” she hummed happily, another smile forming. “Inspiring. I like it. I still need to find a word for you.”
“You already did, remember? Except you said it in Japanese and wouldn’t tell me what it was.”
She opened her eyes and ran her finger along my chest. “No, you’re thinking of when you told me to say something sexy in Japanese. Then I wouldn’t tell you what I said because I didn’t know you well enough.”
“Does tonight qualify for knowing me better?”
She pressed her forehead to my chest. “Yeees. But I don’t know anything sexy in Japanese.” She pulled back. “That night, I said the first thing that popped into my head.”
I arched my eyebrows. “Do I have to coerce it out of you?”
“You have to promise not to laugh.”
“Were you picked on as a child or something? You always think I’m going to laugh at you.”
She grabbed a long lock of her hair. “Red, remember? Of course, the kids teased me. Endlessly.”
I couldn’t imagine anyone teasing her, especially for her hair. “You’re totally not going to tell me what you said, are you? You’re stalling.”
She grinned and pressed her fingertip softly to my lip, saying the phrase, a plethora of syllables, “Anata ga suki ni natteiru.”
She’d said it in the same soft voice, exactly as she’d said it that night. I recognized most of it and narrowed my eyes at her delayed translation. Dimples poked into her pink cheeks and she looked to my chest. “It means, I’m beginning to love you.”
My heart thumped heavy as a gong. I studied her face for any sign that she might be joking. Watched the crimson travel from her ears to her forehead while those blue eyes shifted back to mine. “You’re not laughing,” she whispered.
“That’s because it wasn’t funny.”
Her gaze lowered as her fingers pressed softly over my chest. “But is it okay?”
She had to have felt the change in my heartbeat now pounding against her palm. “Yeah. It’s okay.”
She smiled and closed her eyes, snuggling into my arms. “Good. Because I do. I love you, Sam.”
I held my breath as those words turned over in my head, too stunned to say anything back. A minute later, her warm, patterned breath fanned my neck and I knew she’d fallen asleep.
I wanted to stay like this. Keep her with me, here where we were perfect and she was safe. But daylight would make our lives crazy again. I couldn’t change our insane schedules or do anything about her website controversy. I couldn’t even stop the threats on her life. But I could try to fix this problem with her dad.
I only hoped she’d agree with the direct approach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sam
I hardly slept. She barely moved until my alarm sounded.
Twisting over the side of the bed, I dreaded that we only had thirty minutes to get our shit together before reality dawned.
The bed bounced when she jolted upright. “What time is it?”
I shut off the alarm and looked over my shoulder. She’d pulled an entire blanket to her chest and now pushed her hair from her eyes, her gaze widening at the sight of my back.
Awkward silence drew out. “You’ll never get used to it. I see it all the time and I still haven’t.”
She tried smiling. “It’s not the scars,” she said, pressing the blanket tighter against her chest. “It’s the why and how. I don’t think I’ll ever get my arms around it. Although this tattoo is a trip.” Her finger traced the scars in a loop shape, which meant she was tracing the snake tattoo wrapped around the welted lines on my lower back.
“I may do the entire thing eventually,” I said. “Front and back. To cover all of it. Make it look …different, at least.”
/> “I like how you look now.” Her finger continued to trace my skin. “Although … whoever did this one was brilliant. He covered some of the scar tissue, yet somehow drew attention to it, too, but with attitude. How apropos for an MMA fighter.”
I snorted. “Retired MMA fighter.”
“The artwork is beautiful,” she whispered.
I agreed. “He’s very good. And expensive.”
She shifted next to me and examined my left arm. “Did he do these, too?”
“Yeah.”
“Does it mean something?” Her gentle touch glided along the pattern.
I loved it when she touched me. “It’s Celtic. A peace symbol.”
“Interesting. With that temper of yours, I wouldn’t have guessed.”
I smirked. “Exactly why I need the reminder permanently etched into my skin.”
She grinned and switched to the other side, her eyes sparkling in fascination. “And this one? Part of it looks like a tree.”
“The Tree of Life,” I said. “The symbol is for Balance.”
She bent and kissed my arm softly where the tree line blended with a scar line. When I looked at her, she dropped her gaze. “I hate what he did to you.”
And I hated this topic. I grabbed her elbow and pulled her down next to me. “Five-thirty,” I said, pushing her onto her back and nuzzling her neck until she laughed.
“Five-thirty?”
She smelled sweet, even in the morning. “You asked for the time. And it’s probably five-forty now.”
“Wow.” She turned her head on the pillow and I continued kissing her neck, wishing we didn’t have to go. “I can’t believe I slept straight through. It’s been weeks since I’ve done that. Even when I got sick, I kept waking from weird nightmares. Five hours of sleep and I feel like I could run a marathon.”
I pulled back. “Or you could spend the day with me.”
She shifted her head, leaving that mass of beautiful copper hair strewn across the pillow. “Don’t you work today?”
“Nope. One of my oldest friends, Manuel—Manny—is leaving for boot camp. That’s why the party last night. Actually, it’s continuing through today and Sunday. His parents have a gorgeous house on Lake Oswego and let him have it to destroy himself for a weekend.”
“Are you saying you want to introduce me to your friends?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You never suggested it before.”
“That’s because I don’t want to share you. We barely get one or two hours at a time.”
“When would we go?”
I shrugged. “We could pop in this morning and shake his hung-over ass awake.” I grinned. “He’ll love that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh nice. Great first impression of me.”
“Manny’ll be the one offering you a Bloody Mary at nine a.m. Trust me. You’ll have him beat on first impressions.”
She rolled to her side, her hair falling over her eyes. “You do know I’m not a morning drinker, right?”
“Me, too.” I kissed her once and sat up. “In fact, I don’t drink at all anymore. Promised Jonas I wouldn’t. Look, we’ll stay a couple hours, then you’re mine for the rest of the day.”
She grinned. “I like this plan.”
“It’s kind of last-minute. You sure?”
“I’ll get way behind in my work,” she said, sliding from under the blankets to get dressed. “But I’m not passing up an entire day with you. We’ve never had that.” She blushed as I watched her retrieve her clothes and slip into her jeans. I smiled, wanting her again. She grinned as if reading my thoughts and yanked on her shirt before throwing my jeans at me. “I have to text Ryan. I need a shower but I don’t want you dropping me off. The Impala has a distinct sound and it’ll only set off my dad. I don’t want anything negative getting in the way of today.”
My stomach churned as she pulled out her phone. “Are we already back to that? You’re going to lie about seeing me?”
“Not really a lie. It’s adapting,” she said, a sly grin forming as she typed. “I’m going to tell my dad a version of the truth.”
She wore deviousness like a little black dress. I was totally attracted. But I didn’t want her lying to her parents or anyone else about me. I wanted everyone in the world to know she was mine and I was hers.
I had to talk to her dad, sooner than later.
An hour later, we sat outside Perks Express Coffee, our butts wet from the curb as we checked out the broken branches and destruction from the storm last night.
When Ryan pulled into the lot, he was shaking his head as he parked next to where we sat.
“What?” Peyton asked as he lowered the window.
“Guess who followed me?” he said, nodding to the lot entrance.
She looked past the car to the other side of the lot. I followed her gaze, noticing seven cars, with anther pulling in next to them. When she stiffened, I knew she’d recognized it. Her eyes welled as she turned to me. “Do you see what I mean? Why people can’t know about us? This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t go with you today.”
“Bullshit,” I said, scanning the cars. “It’s the beige sedan, right?” The question became moot the second I saw the man sitting behind his steering wheel lower his camera. “Never mind.”
“Nice, right?” Ryan said.
“Stay here,” I said, setting my coffee down.
Peyton’s hands looped around my bicep, keeping me from standing. “Don’t,” she said, the fear in her voice stopping me. “Sam … just don’t.”
“I’m not gonna do anything,” I said, brushing my finger over her cheek to let her know I was calm. “Just talking. I swear.”
She reluctantly let go of my arm. I reached into my pocket for my phone and stood, making my way toward him. The driver had already started his car and pulled out when I stopped ten feet away, took careful aim at his license plate before snapping a picture. When he realized what I’d done, he stopped the car. I quickly zoomed on his face and took another picture. Grinning and lowering my phone, I made my way over, motioning for him to lower his window.
The haggard, blond-haired man looked leery but he opened his window anyway, leaving his car running.
I braced my hands against the door. “Why are you following my girlfriend?”
He shook his head. “Following?”
The high-tech camera he’d set on the passenger seat persuaded me I was right about him, and I reached in, grabbing his coat collar as I remembered my promise to Peyton. “Yeah, following. And taking pictures. Which are you? A reporter or an obsessed parent trying to prove a stupid point?”
“Neither.” He shook his head. “It’s not what you think. They’re paying me to find out what she does outside of school. That’s all.”
“Christ, you’re a private investigator?”
He nodded.
Apparently, new to the profession, too, because he probably shouldn’t be telling me this. Peyton hadn’t been wrong. Her project had hit insane levels of interest and paranoia. “Who’s paying you?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
I leaned forward. “Fine, then I’ll make this simple. There’s only a handful of people I care about in this world, and you’ve made one of them cry for the last time. People are threatening her online and off, while dumbasses like you are stalking her all over town. If you don’t leave her alone, I’m going to upload this picture, along with your license plate number. Then I’m going to ask my sister, a prolific blogger, to explain to her loyal followers how you accepted money to follow a pretty high school girl around town. I’m thinking your name will become national headlines inside a week, if not sooner. Get my meaning?”
His bloodshot eyes against his pale, sweaty skin made him look drunk. “It’s not a subtle point you’re making. My assignment ends today anyway and I’ve already got what I need.”
I let go of him and stepped back. “If any negative, made-up shit gets out and I pin it back to you, I swear to God y
ou’ll hear from me again because—” I held up my phone, “—I’ve already got what I need, too.”
He stared ahead as his automatic window closed.
I watched him drive away and headed back to the car where Peyton waited for me, looking totally freaked. “Who was he?”
“A PI.”
“What?” she asked, eyes darting. “Who would—”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“Jesus,” Ryan muttered. “This is getting ridiculous.”
“Tell me you didn’t threaten him,” she said.
“Not exactly.” I shrugged, my gaze dropping to Ryan still hanging half out of the Lexus. “Let’s say I found his pressure points, mentioned the media, and squeezed. Either way, you shouldn’t see him again.”
“I don’t care how you did it,” Ryan said with a grin. “I’m just glad he’s gone.”
*****
Peyton met me at the mall two hours later. We drove together, and once we got past the introductions and my old life finally merged with the new, we had a good time. My friends liked her immediately, she liked them, but I still wasn’t ready to share my first entire day with her. After a few hours, we said our goodbyes and took a walk together along a brick pathway by the water.
The day’s second sun break ended and the gray had rolled back in when she turned to me and slipped her arms around my waist, dropping her forehead against my collarbone. She’d worn her hair curly today—its natural state, she said—and it fell around her shoulders in a tangle of waves. I couldn’t resist scooping handfuls of it before turning her face up to mine. “What? You seem sad…suddenly.”
“I’m not. I’m happy. But I’m constantly worried someone will see us, Sam. I can’t pretend I’m not. The wrong person, like that PI. That everything you’ve told me in confidence will somehow come out and what we have will become this horrible thing you’ll regret. I couldn’t take that. I couldn’t take you resenting or hating me. I don’t want you to regret last night.”
“You’re overthinking again, Peyton. Have a little faith in me. I could never regret you, much less last night.”