What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 3)

by Lauren Hawkeye

  I was listening, all right. And every time she disappointed me, every time she continued acting the way she had since I was fifteen and it had all started, the more it sliced at me like a razor blade.

  “Why are you here, Felicity?” My voice was quiet. She didn’t deny that she had a reason.

  “Why don’t you ever come home for a visit?” She drummed those beautifully manicured nails on the laminated tabletop, and the sound scraped across my eardrums. “Your schoolmates from high school, they all go home to visit their families. It doesn’t look right.”

  “Whatever will the neighbors think,” I murmured, shocked that I’d said the words out loud for once. Felicity reared back as though I’d slapped her and I shook my head a fraction.

  “You know why I won’t come home.” I looked her directly in the eye. I saw the flicker that told me she knew what I was referring to, but I also saw the anger.

  With a sinking heart, I saw that she still thought I was lying.

  “Bob misses you,” she finally said, her voice accusatory. Something thick and hot slithered down to coat the inside of my throat, making it hard for me to breathe.

  The way she’d said it—Bob misses you. It implied both that she didn’t, and that I was behaving badly towards my stepfather.

  “He’s your father. You owe it to him to visit.” Her words infuriated me, and when I spoke, my voice was a furious hiss.

  “He is not my father.” I spat the words, and could hear the venom dripping from them. I had never known my real father, might have welcomed a real substitute, but it would be a cold day in hell when I acknowledged Bob as a parent.

  This was the point in our meetings where I would usually tune out, nodding like an automaton just to get through.

  I didn’t know what had changed, but I was done.

  “Felicity, I can’t do this anymore.” I laid my palms flat on the table, enjoying the coolness against my suddenly slick palms.

  “Can’t do what?” Felicity rolled her eyes and finally deigned to take a small sip of her coffee. I studied her as she did, this woman from whom I had come from.

  Same pale eyes, same golden hair. That was all that I could find of myself in her.

  It made me sick that I was glad.

  Mechanically, I stood. When I looked at her, at the woman who had failed to protect me, I felt as though a thick wall of glass had slid into place between us, diffusing her effect on me.

  “I can’t do this with you anymore. I can’t pretend.” Digging in my pocket, I pulled out a five dollar bill, to cover her coffee and the waitress’ time.

  I looked at the stranger who should have been my mother.

  I felt numb.

  “Until you believe me, I can’t do this.”

  Felicity’s mouth fell open as I turned away from her, and I had a quick impression of her sputtering into her cup. Part of me, the part who had once thought dandelions were flowers and had picked bouquets of them just for her, wanted to run back, to throw myself into her arms.

  Wanted to take back every word I’d said in the last five years, just to make her my mother again.

  “Is it the boy whose jacket is on your bed? Is that why you’re acting this way?” She shouted after me. And though it twisted my heart to hear her even speak of Alex, though I wanted to turn back and tell her that he was the best thing in my life, I swallowed the words down.

  “Are you spending time with too many boys again, Serena?”

  I’d been forced into adulthood before I was ready. Adults stuck to their word, and I’d said I was leaving. So I pushed on, out of the coffee shop and back to campus. Back across the grass, and back into my dorm room.

  There, even though Kaylee sat on her bed watching me with concern, even though I hated being vulnerable in front of anyone… there I did something that I hadn’t done in years.

  I curled up under the covers in my bed, huddled into the fetal position, and cried.

  “Serena.” I heard Kaylee’s voice as if in a dream, and snaked a hand out above the covers to bat it away. Though I wasn’t quite awake, I still knew that I was miserably unhappy, and I wanted to wallow in that dark place.

  Alone.

  “Serena.” Kaylee’s voice became more insistent. Scowling, I shoved the covers back, blinking when I discovered the late afternoon light streaming in through the window.

  And I remembered. I’d had the best night of my life, and then Felicity had shown up. I’d cried into my pillow, great sobs that wracked my entire body, and then I must have drifted off.

  “Ugh.” Slowly, I sat up. Kaylee was sitting on the edge of her bed, two cardboard bowls in her lap. “What time is it?”

  “Supper time.” Reaching across the small space that divided our beds, she handed me one of the bowls. It was full of creamy white goodness, and my mouth watered even as my hand tried to shove it back at her.

  “I can’t eat this.” I heard the longing in my own voice. A bunch of empty calories sounded just perfect right at that moment.

  She smiled thinly at me and scooted back on her own bed, digging into her own bowl with a plastic spoon.

  “Seriously, Kaylee, I can’t. Thank you, but if I eat this I won’t be able to button up my jeans tomorrow.”

  “You’re going to run it off anyway.” She rolled her eyes at me, and I threw a pillow at her. “Besides, are you really going to waste birthday cake flavored ice cream with gummy bears and sprinkles?”

  “Damn it.” I looked down at the bowl in my hand. It looked fabulous. And though I knew she wasn’t going to bring it up, Kaylee was showing that she was my friend, trying to cheer me up.

  “Screw it.” I heaped my spoon high with ice cream and shoved it into my mouth. The sweetness coated my tongue and I moaned. “Oh my God, this is amazing.”

  “I know, right?” Kaylee spoke around a full mouth. “Every time Joel and I break up I sneak off and eat an entire pint. By myself.”

  “Like you’d ever know it.” I snorted. Kaylee was naturally slim, and I’d pay for this ice cream next time I went for a run. But right at that moment, it just felt good to let go of my rigid control, to let loose, and let a friend share my burden.

  It’s not like she’d brought me acid or weed to help me feel better, after all. It was just a bowl of ice cream.

  My phone vibrated when I was nearing the end of my bowl, and I reached for it one handed.

  Whatcha wearing?

  I snorted out a laugh at the new text from Alex, which made Kaylee cock her head questioningly.

  “It’s from Alex.” Though Felicity’s parting words rang in my ears, I tried not to let the memory sink the feelings that Kaylee had buoyed with a bowl full of vanilla and gummy bears.

  “Ooh, are you sexting?” She teased. Though I knew she was joking, since the Serena she knew would never do such I thing, I flushed, and she hooted, shoving another mouth full of ice cream into her mouth.

  “Go Serena!”

  I mock glared at her as I typed my reply, one handed.

  Since I’m sure you meant to ask what I’m doing, I’ll answer that one instead. I’m eating a bowl full of empty calories with Kaylee.

  The response was quick.

  If you come over, I’ll get to see what you’re wearing for myself. PS: I’ll help you burn some of those calories off.

  Warmth surged throughout me. The memory of last night—well, the part before I’d freaked out—made dampness gather between my legs, and I squirmed on the bed.

  “Whatever he’s offering in that text, I want some.” Kaylee emptied her bowl with a loud scraping of the spoon on the bottom, then tossed it into the small wastebasket that sat between our beds. “And since I don’t want to torture you any more than you’ve already been today, I’ll leave you be.”

  I looked up from my phone as she shrugged into a bright pink hoodie.

  “Kaylee?”

  She turned, her hand on the door.

  “Yo.” She looked back over her shoulder, and though she was ful
l of bravado, as usual, I could see the concern written on her face.

  I could still hear the horror echoing through her voice as she saw the scars on my arms. I’d have to tell her something… sometime.

  “Thanks.” I offered a tentative smile. She smiled at me then, a crooked grin that somehow seemed more vulnerable than she usual came across.

  “Life sucks sometimes.” Her voice was flippant, but I heard the thread of seriousness that ran beneath it. “I know that better than you might think.”

  And then she was gone, leaving me alone.

  Except I wasn’t alone.

  My fingers flew over my text keys and I couldn’t hold back the shiver of anticipation.

  I’ll be there in five minutes.

  Chapter Nine

  “This is not what I thought you meant by burning off those calories.” Dubiously I eyed the weighted black bag that was suspended from the ceiling in Alex’s spare room. I’d given it a little practice shove, and it was really damn heavy.

  “What did you think I meant?” Alex unzipped his hoodie, then turned and gave me a grin that told me he knew exactly what I’d thought. His T-shirt clung to the fuzzy inside of his hoodie and gave me a quick glimpse of his abs before it fell down again, and I felt myself warming all over.

  If I was going to get all sweaty, I could think of a more fun way to do it than by punching a bag. And didn’t that show progress on my part, that I could think dirty thoughts and not immediately chastise myself.

  “So what do I do?” I shook my hair out of my face impatiently. I already had the gloves on my hands, and couldn’t pull it back myself.

  “Let me do that.” Rummaging in his jeans pocket for a second, Alex withdrew a plain black hair elastic—my hair elastic, I realized.

  “You left this here last night.”

  I froze when he circled me, his fingers coming to rest lightly on the nape of my neck.

  Slowly he combed his fingers through the long strands of my hair, gathering them together. Once he’d secured it with the elastic, he pressed a kiss to the side of my neck, then moved in front of me to survey his work.

  “I like it when your hair is pulled back like this. That way I can see your face.”

  I froze as I realized that around him, I didn’t mind having my hair back.

  I didn’t feel any need to hide.

  “Let’s get started.” He ordered. I tried not to gawk at his ass when he bent to pick up a second pair of boxing gloves. He strapped them onto his hands, and I couldn’t help thinking that he looked ridiculously hot.

  I, on the other hand, felt awkward and unsure.

  “What—what do I do?” I looked down at the yoga pants and plain T-shirt that I was wearing. It occurred to me belatedly that I could have dressed up a bit to come over here.

  “Just hit it, Serena.” To demonstrate, Alex pulled back an arm, then swung at the bag. It rocked under the blow and he grinned, satisfied.

  “Is there a right way?” I was pretty sure I’d never hit anything. Like, ever.

  “You’ll figure out pretty quick what feels good and what doesn’t.” Alex punched the bag again, sending it swaying. “Don’t over think it. Just do it.”

  I felt dumb. I was sure I was going to embarrass myself. But it seemed important to him to show me this part of his life, so I sucked in a breath, drew back my arm, and swung at the punching bag.

  I felt the blow reverberate all the way up my arm, but the bag barely moved. I growled with frustration.

  “Again.” Alex stepped back, out of the way of the bag, and gestured for me to go once more. I scowled at the bag, its black surface taking on an existence of its own for me.

  Drawing my arm back again, I tried to let go of all of my worries, my self-consciousness, and let my gloved fist fly. My teeth snapped together as my fist connected with the bag, and to my delight it actually moved, swaying back and forth on its mooring.

  “Awesome!”

  I looked over to find Alex grinning at me, his eyes bright. “Again.”

  I swung again, and then again. Each time I did the bag moved a little bit more, and I got a bit more confident.

  I punched the thing until my arms and shoulders burned, and my heart beat rapidly against my rib cage. Sucking in air, I shucked the gloves off.

  “Good, huh?”

  Startled, I looked up to find Alex leaning against the wall, watching me. I felt like I should have been embarrassed by the way I’d all but forgotten he was there, but the adrenaline had hit me, and I felt too damn good.

  “The best.” I bent, placing my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. “How did you get into this again?”

  “Tripp taught me.” As usual, a slight shadow crossed Alex’s face when he talked about his past, but it was gone almost before I noticed it. “He taught me because he thought I needed to channel some rage. I gave it a fighting chance because exercise makes insulin work better. The more physical activity I do, the less insulin I need.”

  “You think I have some rage that needs to be channelled?” I was joking, but my smile froze on my face when I realized that I actually felt a lot better now than I had an hour earlier… before I’d beaten the shit out of the punching bag.

  “I refuse to answer that one,” Alex started, crossing to me with a bottle of water in hand. “Because I just saw you beat the crap out of that punching bag. You’re a dangerous woman, Serena.”

  I tried to scowl, but couldn’t help grinning. I took the water and chugged half the bottle before giving it back.

  “You look hot,” He mused, rolling the plastic between his hands.

  “I am.” I grimaced as I pulled my sweaty T-shirt away from my chest. I was a mess after the workout, and I hadn’t exactly been dressed up when I arrived.

  “I can help.” Without warning, he upended the remainder of the water on my head. Though the water was room temperature, on my heated skin it felt icy cold, and I shrieked as the rivulets worked their way down my neck and into my shirt.

  “Alex!” His eyes dropped to my chest quickly before returning to my face, and I became painfully aware that the shock of the cool water had beaded my nipples into hard little points.

  His eyes darkened, and I warmed with a heat that had nothing to do with the boxing I’d just done.

  “Serena,” His voice was rough with desire, and it made me shiver.

  “Yes?” My nails bit into my palms. I was surprised that the water didn’t simply steam off of my skin.

  “I’m going to kiss you now. Okay?” His words were husky. I had barely nodded my assent when he pulled me to him, his hands sneaking up beneath the hem of my damp T-shirt to splay over my back.

  I moaned as his tongue flicked across my lips, demanding entrance to my mouth. I parted my lips, and he boldly explored my teeth, my tongue.

  When I was breathless, he fisted his hands in the long hair of my ponytail and pulled back, just enough to look at my face.

  “I just can’t get enough of you.” His words were puzzled, his eyes full of wonder. “I don’t know what it is, but every bit that you give me, I just want more.”

  This time I closed the distance, cupping his face in my hands and pressing my mouth to his. I moaned when he slid his hands from my hair to my waist, supporting me as he gently lowered me to the floor, rolling so that I straddled him as he laid full length beneath me.

  It spoke of how well he’d gotten to know me that he didn’t even try to take my shirt off, instead sliding his hand beneath, cupping my breast through my bra.

  When my fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, however, tentatively inching it upwards, he made no protest, helping me get the cotton over his head and off.

  I sucked in a breath when his torso was bare. I’d seen it before—the night I’d run over here, upset by the phone call with Felicity came to mind—but this time it seemed different.

  This time it felt—almost—as if he was mine. Mine to explore. Mine to taste.

  Mine to touch.

/>   Tentatively, I reached down and placed my fingers over the start of his tattoo, on the right side of his chest. I saw the sharp inhalation in the movement of his chest, but he let me stroke my fingers over the swirled lines, across his pectoral and up to his shoulder.

  The day I’d first met him, I’d thought it strange that someone so athletic, so handsome, would mar his skin with tattoos. Now… now they seemed like a part of him, like he would be naked without them.

  Bending, I pressed a kiss to one of the dark swirls that decorated the place where his shoulder met his arm. He moaned softly, and emboldened, I moved my lips down the trail of ink.

  When I reached the place where I knew his scars started, I stiffened, waiting for him to tell me to stop.

  Though his body tensed beneath me, he said nothing, did nothing to stop me. My heart pounded as I realized the trust he was giving me.

  I wanted to give it back. I wanted it so badly.

  I just wasn’t ready. I still didn’t know if I would ever be.

  I shook the thought out of my head. I wanted to explore this unexpected gift that he’d given me.

  Lifting my head, I looked down at Alex’s face. His eyes were at half mast and fixed on me.

  I looked right into his eyes as I traced my fingers over one of the puckers of his scars. There was a minute flinch, and then he relaxed, letting me dance my touch overtop of the mark.

  Slowly I trailed my fingers to the second scar, and then on to the next. He let me put my mark on every scar on that arm, and then again on the other.

  His eyes, dark with something that I couldn’t quite identify, when I’d stroked my fingers over each scar hidden with the tattoo on his arms he rolled over onto his stomach, his shoulder blades jutting out from his back like angel wings, stretching the skin and the tattoo that continued there, exposing yet more small, round scars.

  My heart broke a little as I counted them. What had caused them? I couldn’t ask, not unless I was ready to share my own story with him.

  I touched every one, as if with my fingers I could release the pain that had been present when they appeared.