Save My Heart (Sticks & Hearts Book 3)

by Rhonda James

  “Fair enough,” he concedes with a smug smile. “What about now?”

  “What do you mean?” I cross my arms over my chest.

  Scott takes a step forward while at the same time I walk backwards until my back is flush against the ladder. He knows I have nowhere else to go, yet he still feels the need to cage me in with his arms on either side of me. “I mean, even after all this time, aren’t you the teensiest bit interested in impressing me?”

  “Pul-leeze.” I roll my eyes dramatically and give him my best sass. “I couldn’t care less about what you think of me.”

  “Is that so?” He bites the corner of his lip, and I nearly swallow my tongue. Damn, why does he have to be so sexy? “Well, Skylar, you wanna know what I think? I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself, or me, for that matter. I think you do care. And I think you’re too scared to climb that ladder, but you don’t want me to find out because you know I will tease you mercilessly.”

  “Stop being a jackass. For the record, I am not scared. You ever think maybe I just don’t want to be alone up there with you?”

  “Yeah, ‘cause you’re a chicken shit,” he taunts.

  I gasp loudly and stab my finger in his muscular chest. “Scott Rivers, you take that back this instant!”

  “Nope. Sorry, sweetheart. I’m just callin’ it like I see it,” he answers defiantly.

  “Oh, is that so? Well, I’ll show you who’s chicken. Move.” I shove him aside then grab the rung above my head and start climbing. I’m a third of the way up before I start questioning my sanity. When we were eighteen and scampering up this same ladder, I’d been fearless. Now, at twenty-two, I just feel scared. I don’t like it. I want to be fearless again. Dammit. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I do want to impress him. I hate that he still has this effect on me. I dig deep and find my inner strength, and pretty soon I’m clambering onto the catwalk that circles the bottom of the reservoir. “Well, are you gonna join me, or are you a chicken shit?” I flap my arms and bawk like a chicken, which earns me the finger.

  “Shut up,” he growls, which only makes me tease him that much harder. I don’t stop until I see the top of his head cresting the ledge I’m sitting on. He flashes me a cocky grin before pulling himself onto the catwalk and coming to sit next to me with his back against the water tank.

  “What took you so long?” I tease.

  “Don’t start with me, woman,” he warns, the boyish grin never leaving his face as our eyes meet. Just that quickly, I feel as if we’re transported back in time to the night when I told him I loved him for the very first time.

  “Damn, girl. I’ve been all over town looking for your crazy ass,” Scott grumbles before pulling himself onto the ledge where I sit with my legs drawn close to my chest. A look of concern passes over his face before he situates himself next to me, mimicking my position. “What gives, Sky? I thought you hated coming out here alone.”

  “I just… I couldn’t take it anymore… I guess, maybe I came out here looking for answers,” I murmur.

  He raises a skeptical brow. “These answers you’re searching for… you trying to tell me they’re out there in Mr. Hodgeman’s soybean field?”

  “I don’t know for sure. But maybe they could be,” I answer hopefully.

  He doesn’t ask me to elaborate; instead, he offers a smile that says he gets it then threads his fingers with mine and does something to help me momentarily forget about my mom’s drunken rages. He sings to me.

  The sound of his voice comforts me as he belts out the lyrics, complete with a hand on his chest and intense facial expressions. I can’t stop smiling because I’m so incredibly touched and happy he would go to such lengths to cheer me up.

  I gaze over at him and our eyes meet. There’s something in his eyes that makes this moment seem almost magical. When he reaches the last chorus, I find myself joining in and we sing together, holding hands. We finish out the song, complete with all the ‘do be dos’ at the end and that makes him laugh, and it’s this rich melodic sound that echoes across the field of soybeans and ricochet’s straight back to pierce my rapidly beating heart.

  “I lu-love you,” I blurt out, the words tumbling out of my mouth so quickly I don’t have time to reel them back in. Too late now. They’re dangling out there, waiting for him to accept them or laugh in my face, but somehow, I can’t see Scott doing that. Not to me. My heart pounds furiously, because I’ve never said those words to a boy. But Scott’s not just any boy. He was the first boy to ever kiss me. Or even care about me. I’m not sure I actually know what love is, but I know what he just did for me has left me with this strange feeling in my belly. A feeling unlike any I’ve ever known. Whatever it is, I don’t care, just so long as I keep feeling it. That’s all I care about right now.

  He doesn’t say anything at first, just stares, quietly studying my face, then he rocks forward on his knees and takes my face in his calloused hands. “You see… that right there is why I’m so fucking crazy about you.” He covers my mouth with his to give me the sweetest, softest kiss before trailing his lips along my jaw, stopping only when his warm breath meets my ear. “Wanna know something, Blondie?” I hold my breath and wait for him to continue, praying he’ll whisper the words I long to hear. The words my own mother refuses to say. He lowers his cheek to my shoulder and grazes the tip of his nose across my neck, inhaling my scent. “I’m in love with you, too.”

  I turn to find Scott watching me, and a warm smile fills his scruff-covered face. I think about the boy who used to sing to make me smile, and I stare back at the man who’s gone to great lengths to bring a smile to my face today. Once upon a time, I fell in love with a boy, and tonight, sitting on the ledge of this old water tower, I can admit I love him just as much today.

  Maybe even more.

  CHAPTER 19

  SCOTT

  She didn’t want to go back to her mom’s house tonight. I can’t say that I blame her. Too many bad memories live behind those walls. If those walls could talk, I shiver to think of the stories they would tell.

  Skylar never had it easy when she lived here in Chicago. Not like most other kids we knew from school. Her mom was the town drunk, and she had quite the reputation with a certain set of men around town. The water tower I took her to had been one of her favorite places to escape the hell she lived in. On many occasions, I’d find her there, sitting all alone, writing in one of the many journals she kept. And if she wasn’t writing, she was reading. Skylar’s the reason I used to write poetry. Most of the stuff I wrote were just silly limerick-style poems, but there were some nights when I’d be lying in bed, thinking of her, wondering if she was okay. On those nights, I’d pick up a pen and paper and write what was in my heart.

  I’ve never shared those poems with anyone, at least not willingly. I didn’t think they were worth embarrassing myself over, but one day while ‘cleaning my room,’ Mom came across one of them, and when I came home from practice that night, I found her sitting in the kitchen reading it. Of course, she told me it was good. Moms are supposed to say that shit. Right? But then she went on to tell me that Skylar and I were lucky to have found each other. She told me a girl like Skylar deserved a man who would love and protect her always. I remember later that night, when Skylar was tucked safely against me after a bad night at home, I kissed away her tears and rocked her to sleep. I vowed that night to become the kind of man she deserved.

  I look at her now, standing in the middle of my childhood bedroom, and pray when she looks at me she can see that man in me.

  She spins in a circle, taking it all in. Not much has changed since I left home. Mom kept it all right where I’d left it. The trophies. Cap from graduation. Senior yearbook. That’s the first thing she reaches for, and apprehension fills me when she sits on the edge of the bed to flip through the pages. I’m fairly certain that book in her hand contains nothing but more bad memories. I turn some music on and settle in next to her.

  “Look at you.” I point to a candi
d shot of her attending one of my games. “You were always so cute with your camera strapped around your neck.” I stare at the snapshot a few seconds longer and whisper, “Beautiful.”

  She sighs and runs her fingers over the image before flipping through a few more pages. “Back then, you always used to call me that. Funny, but I never saw myself the same way.”

  I pull the book away and close it before tossing it on the floor. “Hey”—I ease her back against the pillows and lean over her—“I hate that you can’t look at yourself and see the same beautiful woman I do.”

  Her eyes fall closed and her lip disappears between those perfect teeth of hers. “My mom used to tell me you were only with me for one thing. She always said you’d leave me after I gave you my virginity.” Her eyes spring open and she looks right through me. “She said I wasn’t good enough for you. I guess maybe a small part of me believed her.”

  Fuck.

  “Pardon me for speaking ill of the recently deceased, but your mom was a raging bitch who didn’t know dick about our relationship,” I seethe. “That’s not what it was like between us. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, I think so. But you have to admit your reaction that night went against everything you’re trying to convince me of now,” she challenges.

  “I know, and I’ve already told you how sorry I am for that. I never wanted to hurt you, but I was a stupid kid thinking with the wrong head. If I could, I’d go back and change everything about that night.” I trace the bow of her lip with my thumb and lower my voice an octave. “Well, maybe not everything. There were some really great parts about that night. Do you remember?”

  Our eyes meet, and I see the pain hidden beneath the beautiful blue hue.

  “Yes. I remember a lot of things, Scott. That’s the struggle I’m having. I’ve spent the last four years fighting to forget you, and now here I am, back in this room. Chasing after something I’m not even sure I should be chasing.”

  “I seem to recall some pretty good memories were made right here in this room.” I settle beside her and brace my weight on my elbow as I lovingly gaze down at her face. “I’m not proud of the way I treated you. And I know I fucked up really badly.”

  The song on my playlist changes to one we used to like listening to and it gives me an idea. “Do you remember this song?” I ask as Nick Lachey croons out the first line of his love ballad, “What’s Left of Me.”

  She nods and offers a sad smile. “I do.”

  I run my palms over the front of my jeans and stand, holding out my hand for her to take. “Dance with me?”

  She wrinkles her nose and huffs out a laugh. “You’re serious?”

  “Come on.” I wiggle my fingers at her. “You know you love this song.”

  “I do,” she says slowly, releasing a sigh as she places her hand in mine. One hand goes to her side while I keep the other holding her right hand as I gently rock her. The song plays and I find myself listening to the lyrics with new ears, finding they apply perfectly to where we are in this moment. She rests her cheek on my chest, and I draw her in tightly against me. Shielding her.

  “I trusted you,” she whispers in the dark of the room.

  “I know,” I whisper back.

  “You hurt me.”

  “I know, baby, and for that I am so fucking sorry. I’d give anything to have those moments back and do them over, but we both know that isn’t possible. The only thing I have to offer you is myself. Right here. Right now. Give me the chance to prove to you that I’m the man you need. The man you want. The man you deserve.”

  I tip her chin up and lower my face to hers. Our bodies are pressed together. I feel the heat between us building. Smoldering. “Being back in Chicago with you. Having you back in my arms. God. I don’t think I realized just how much I missed you until this very moment.”

  “What if I told you I still have feelings for you? Would that change things? Scare you away?” Her eyes scan my face for a reaction.

  “Not a chance, Dennison. Nothing’s going to stop me from going after what I want.”

  A smile fills her pretty face, and she nibbles nervously on her bottom lip once more before looking up, this time with lust in those blue eyes of hers. “What exactly do you want, Scott?”

  “You.” My voice croaks, sounding strange.

  “Then what are you waiting for?” she asks in a breathy voice.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper, eyes searching her face. Absorbing just how incredibly beautiful she looks standing before me. She looks just like every man’s wet dream. Better still, she looks like my dream come true. “It’s just… You’re perfect, and I want our first time together to be perfect, too.”

  She captures my face in her hands. Damp lips a fraction away from meeting mine. So close. But still not close enough. “Then kiss me. Tell me you still want me. And it will be.”

  CHAPTER 20

  SKYLAR

  I’ve laid down the gauntlet, and this time, there’s no turning back. No more asking him to wait. No more running away. As a young girl, Scott Rivers was the only boy I ever wanted, and tonight, as I gaze into his eyes, I know without a doubt he’s the only man I’ll ever need.

  Scott takes my invitation to kiss me and does just that. He makes everything perfect. He leans in, dotting the corners of my mouth with kisses so light you’d hardly know they’re there. But I feel them. Oh, boy, do I feel them. As his lips blaze a path across my jaw, my hands grip his waist in a weak attempt at holding him hostage. I want so badly just to pull him against me. Demand that he take me. I want to feel the weight of his hard, lean body crushing mine. But the painstakingly slow pace of his lips on my skin tells me he has no plans of rushing this.

  Our mouths mesh together. Tongues swirling together in a slow, luxurious dance as his hands tease my sides.

  “A girl could get used to this,” I murmur.

  “Go ahead. I plan on keeping this up for a while,” he says between kisses. His fingers continue toying with the hem of my loose-fitting tank before finally slipping beneath to graze my ribcage. His lips come back to tease mine with deep, wet kisses that sound almost as good as they feel. His thumbs tentatively graze the side of each breast, and I silently beg him to keep going. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stops kissing me altogether and rests his forehead against mine. He lets out a low whistle and moves his hands in slow circles over my lower back. He swallows hard, and I peer up at him from beneath my lashes. “You sure you’re okay with this? ‘Cause I don’t want to do anything to ruin this night.”

  We all have that one special moment. It’s usually something you’ve anticipated. Prayed for. Dreamed of night after night after night. And when it finally happens, you give yourself a mental fist pump and tell yourself that nothing, NOTHING, will ever top this moment.

  My moment had always been the first time Scott kissed me. There have been many times when I found myself looking back on that afternoon. The way he looked at me just before leaning in and claiming my mouth with his. And even though he spoiled me with a thousand more kisses that had left my head spinning, I told myself that nothing would ever top the way that first kiss had made me feel. But I’d been wrong.

  So. Very. Wrong.

  “Scott”—I lift my chin to make sure he doesn’t miss a single word of my reply—“I’ve never wanted anything more.” He doesn’t move. Doesn’t utter a sound as I take my hands and follow the same path his have just taken on my own body. I tease slowly up his sides and over the muscles of his chest before snaking around to knead the rippled muscles in his back. My fingers grasp the hem of his shirt and start easing it off. “Take this off,” I order, and he complies.

  He watches quietly as I trace the large tattoo that starts at his shoulder blade and snakes its way down his side. It’s a sexy tribal design, and I’m not sure what it represents. I don’t bother asking. Right now, it doesn’t matter. When my touch becomes too much, he pulls me into a fierce embrace, kissing me like he’s a starving man. Our tongues wea
ve a frenzied dance, while our hands continue exploring the curves of each other’s bodies. While it’s been years since we’ve been intimate, we move as if it was only yesterday.

  “I’ve missed these lips,” I murmur between kisses. “I love kissing you. I love having your hands on me, your mouth on me. Please, Scott. Make love to me.”

  “I’ve waited an awful long time to hear those words again. I want you, Skylar, but if we go through with this, I need you to know that this won’t be just another hook-up for me. The moment I slip inside of you, that’s me staking my claim. In that very second, you’ll become mine.” His declaration sends a shiver down my spine as the space between my legs throbs with need. His hands move back under my shirt, and this time, they keep going until his thumbs tease my pebbled nipples. His head dips and his breath teases my ear. “Is that what you want?”

  “God, yes. Take me. Make me yours,” I beg shamelessly.

  His hands slip down to cup my ass as he lifts me up to his waist. My legs wrap around him as he walks us back toward the bed. I’m lowered down until I meet the soft mattress, and he bends over, kissing me softly on the lips as he slowly begins to undress me. He pops the button on my jeans then pauses to kiss me. Slowly, the zipper is lowered as his lips work their way down the column of my neck. His eyes lock with mine, never leaving me while he works to peel the denim from my body. I rise, lifting the tank over my head. My breasts are so small there’s really no need for a bra with this shirt. A sultry smile curls the corners of his mouth.

  “My God. You’re delicious.” He licks his lips before falling to his knees before me.

  His eyes search mine once more, seeking permission. We’ve been this far before. I’m sure that night must be fresh on his mind right now. I know it’s on mine. But this time, there’s no hesitation. No doubt on my end. I’ve wasted years cursing my past fear of what this act of love would mean for us. His hands wrap around my ankles, then he slowly makes his way up each leg and comes to rest on my hips. He hooks a finger under the fabric then steps back to slip off my panties. The next thing I know, I’m being covered in light kisses. He starts with my foot, nibbling the pad of my big toe before trailing his tongue slowly along the arch. He continues working his way up my leg, pausing behind each knee where he licks and sucks until I’m squirming and panting beneath him. He laughs and continues to follow the invisible course he’s mapped out on my body. Every touch and tease leaves me a panting, sweaty mess.