I'm seriously messed up.
"No," I say, happy I can answer this honestly.
"She's always been special to you," Mel says, slightly wistful.
I nod—there isn't anything to really say. She looks back at the notebooks on her desk then up at me, a strained smile on her face. "Thank you. I think I'd like to be alone, if you don't mind."
I stand, awkwardly. "I'm sorry for hurting you, Mel."
Tears well in her eyes and she nods, tightly.
It's strangely calm—anticlimactic and free of drama. I hesitate, unsure, then give her a short nod and turn away. Leave her office and quietly close the door.
I hear her sob—a single short noise cut off abruptly. It's not a noise I like being responsible for. Feeling like a colossal ass, I leave.
I have a text waiting when I get back to the Viper.
Atti: Can you drop by the apartment today? Avery wants to rearrange the couches.
I roll my eyes, but type a quick yes. Turn the Viper in the direction of the apartment complex as I call Avery to let her know I'm on my way.
"Oh, dude," she says, exasperated, "you totally don't have to. Kelly was gonna get a couple guys to come help."
"Pretty sure Atti wouldn't be overly thrilled about a group of frat boys knowing you’re rearranging his furniture. Remember—y'all aren't supposed to be together," I say lazily.
"Kelly can be discreet," Avery sniffs. I laugh, not bothering to hide my disbelief, and she huffs. "Fine. I'll see you in a few minutes."
I hang up and dial Atticus.
"What's up, D?" he asks, sounding distracted.
"You need to talk to your girl about discretion." I say, clicking my turn signal and hitting main street. A few girls openly ogle me as I cruise by, but I ignore them. "Her brilliant plan was to have Kelly bring frat boys by."
Atti groans. "Shit. I'll talk to her. She forgets."
My temper spikes. Avery's forgetfulness could cost Atti more than he's willing to give, and it annoys me that she's not more careful. "You need to be careful, man. She needs to be. Y'all only have a month and a half before she graduates and you can shout it from the rooftops—but you’re the one who cares so much about you career. Don't screw it up now."
"Don't you ever get tired of lecturing me?" he asks.
"Don't you ever get tired of giving me a reason to?" I shoot back.
He laughs. "Piss off, D. I've got this."
I shake my head as he hangs up. Frankly, I have my doubts, but I can only do so much, and there are other things—dark-haired, green eyed things—on my mind.
When I get to the apartment complex, I eye the stairs, and Avery leans out of third floor window. "Move your ass, Guillot! I've got class today."
Flipping her off, I begin climbing.
She's wearing one of Atti's white undershirts and a pair of sweat pants that does very little to diminish her natural beauty. I've got to give it to Atti—the boy has impeccable taste. Nik was centerfold-gorgeous, and Avery isn't far from it. I shake my head and shrug out of my jacket. "What are we doing?"
We move the couches five times before she's happy. I'm ready to chuck her and the damn things out the window, but she looks so pleased with herself, I try to ignore my irritation. I grab my jacket and start for the door.
"You and Scout have plans tomorrow?" she asks. I go still—the sound of my name linked to Scout's is so perfect it makes me nervous.
"No. She's gonna pick up her car, I have work, but that's it."
"Y’all should come by for dinner—I'm inviting Kelly and the boys." I give her a sharp look, and she smirks. "Jeff and Jason, Dad. Relax—I'm not inviting random frat boys to my boyfriend's house."
"You almost did."
She has the grace and good sense to look embarrassed. "I know. My bad. I wasn't thinking."
"That's the problem, Avery. You can't not think. This isn't about just you," I snap.
"I thought we were past this," she says, crossing her arms and pushing her breasts up a little. "You gonna throw coffee on me again?"
I struggle not to wince. "You are never going to let me forget that." Her stony expression is answer enough. "Look, I care about him and his happiness. That includes you—but it doesn't mean you’re what's best for his professional life. I'm not fighting him about you because it's clear that Atticus loves you, and I'm not willing to lose my best friend over a girl. Whatever. But be careful—for god's sake, Avery, you have almost as much to lose as he does."
She nods, some of the defiance slipping out of her. "I know. I get it. I'll be careful."
I walk to the door, shrugging into my jacket. I'm impatient to get home—back to Scout and whatever is going on between us. "Come to dinner. Bring Mel and Scout."
"Mel and I are over," I say without thinking. Avery freezes, her wide brown eyes staring at me. I shouldn't have said that—it's too close to admitting that something is going on with Scout, and I need to figure that out before I go blabbing it to Atticus. "I'll talk to her, see if she wants to come over. I'll call you," I say quickly and escape before Avery has a chance to say anything or demand an explanation about Mel.
God, maybe she isn't the one who should be careful. Maybe I should be listening to myself for once. I shake my head and jog down the stairs. Slip into my Viper and head home.
Chapter 10
Scout
I call Lou, nibbling on a brownie as I wait for her to pick up on the other end, and when I hear her cheerful, but cautious, "Hello?" I almost cry.
"Hey. It’s Scout," I say, dropping the brownie in the baking dish.
"Oh! Hey! How are you?" she asks.
"Not really sure," I answer, surprising both of us with my honesty. "Do you have a little bit of time, maybe to grab lunch?"
She doesn’t hesitate. "Sure. Do you want me to pick something up and meet you at Dane’s house?"
Some of the uneasy tension slips from me and I nod. "Yeah. That would be awesome. Do you know where he lives?"
She laughs. "Yup. I’ll see you soon."
I use the ten minutes it takes her to get here to put on some underwear and brush my hair. Then I start some cinnamon rolls and a pot of coffee—I don’t drink the shit, but I know Lou has always been fond of it.
I hear her before she pulls into the drive, and I swing the door open to see her climb out of her beat-up old truck. She's been driving that thing since high school, a run-down junker that spends more time in the shop than it does on the road.
Lou sweeps into the house with the scent of burning leaves, fresh bread, and thick soup. I sniff appreciatively, and she grins at me, handing me one of the two bags and a large cup of ice tea. "Did you stop by Sandy's?" I ask, opening the bag. The campus café doesn't usually offer anything that smells this good.
"Even better—I stole it from Mama."
I glance up, and she laughs, dropping a third bag on the table before leading the way into the living room. "I brought some for Dane. Thought he might enjoy it when he gets home."
I glance at the clock, involuntarily. It's only been thirty minutes since he left me. I can't expect him back yet. But a tiny, irrational part of me wishes he was home already.
"So. What's going on?" Lou asks, opening her Tupperware container of chicken corn chowder. She fixes an expectant look on me. I squirm a little.
"It's Dane."
"What about him?"
I don't want her to judge me, but there's no graceful way of saying this. "We went out this morning to buy me a car. Stopped by the big house. And he sorta kinda went down on me."
I study my soup like it holds the secrets of the universe while Lou freezes, chokes, and finally spits out, "Are you for fucking real?"
I dart a glance up and nod. She's got a speculative look on her face, but it's not terribly judgmental. "How was it?"
Amazing. Intense. The best orgasm I've ever had—and I've had a lot. The boy wasn't exaggerating his prowess at all—if I knew he could do that to me, I'd forget my dignity too.
<
br /> Hell, I already did.
"It was good. Really good."
"But?"
I flash her a smile, so very glad that she gets it. "But I'm scared. I'm not sure how to do a relationship—or even if that's what he wants."
"Is it what you want?"
No. I've never wanted one—not since the rape. Relationships are just another way to make yourself vulnerable and get hurt. But..."It's Dane."
She nods. She knows I've wanted Dane for longer than I can remember. I've had a crush on him for years—she used to tease me for dating guys who looked like him, badboy football players who just ended up being douches.
There's only ever been one Dane Guillot, and he's always been unattainable.
"What if I screw this up?" I ask.
"Why do you assume you will?" Lou's gaze is compassionate, but searching.
"The fact that I've screwed up every relationship I've been in for the past six years?" I answer.
She shrugs. "That was when you were a kid, and when you were using. You’re clean. You have your life straightened out and you want this. Don't you?"
There are few things I've ever wanted more.
"Louisa, I can't lose him. I would rather skip the chance of being with him than face losing his friendship."
She cocks her head to the side, and I see sympathy flicker in her eyes. "Sweetie, you've been intimate with him. Do you really think you can step back now? Can you watch him with other women?"
My hand clenches, and I set my soup down, harder than I mean. She gives me a wry look. I nod. "Fair enough. But what if he doesn't want a relationship? What if I'm just a warm body, and he's not ready for a relationship, or doesn't want one with me?"
"Then you find a way to let go. To move past this. But if you don't give y'all a shot now, I don't think you'll ever stop wondering what could have been."
I frown at her. "Sometimes I hate that you’re always so damn right."
Lou smirks "No, you don't. You wouldn't know what to do if one of us wasn't right all the time."
I flip her off and pick up my soup. "So, tell me about your boy."
She blushes and looks down, and I laugh. "Sugar, I just told you I got oral in my family basement. What on earth do think you have to be blushing over?"
"You might have a point," she concedes. The oven beeps and I stand up. Lou follows me to the kitchen when I grab the cinnamon rolls. "He's an engineer major, and Dad isn't quite sure what to do with him—you know, Dad's got a historical story for everything, and Luke is in hard science. It makes for awkward dinners at home."
"But he likes him?"
She nods, happily. "They love each other—Dad took him golfing a few weeks ago, and Luke took Dad to a car show. So it’s good."
"How is the Doctor, anyway? I miss seeing him. And your mom."
"Good—they're good. Mama just finished a round of chemo, and the doctors think they got it all. So that's a relief for all of us. Dad misses Atticus, but aside from that, it's good—just a normal semester."
"I didn't realize Stella was sick," I say, softly. Hating myself for not knowing.
Lou shrugs. "Not many people do. Dad's been pretty quiet about it. He didn't even tell Atti."
That is quiet. Atticus has been Randall's protégé for years, and his friend for even longer. I can't imagine much the Doctor didn't share with my brother—despite the twenty-year age gap, they had formed a tight bond over history and ridiculous old books.
"Don't look like that," Lou says, a little of her enthusiasm waning. "She's going to be fine. There is absolutely no need to worry."
That's what they said about Jeanette, before she went into the hospital.
I shake my head, banishing all thoughts of the pretty blonde. The front door swings open and Dane's voice, slightly alarmed, fills the house. "Scout?"
"Kitchen!" I call back, and Lou straightens away from the counter as he strides in. There is curious expression on his face—almost fear mingling with naked relief. He stops just short of touching me and gives Lou a cursory look.
"Louisa."
"Guillot."
I grin at her frosty tone. She looks at me, a warm smile tilting her lips up as she grabs her purse from where she discarded it on the counter. "I'll call you tomorrow, Scout. Text me later?"
I nod and she hugs me, swift and hard. Then she edges carefully past Dane and leaves the house. I turn my attention back to the cinnamon rolls, busying myself with frosting them and trying to ignore Dane moving closer to me.
"You baked."
"The brownies were stale—and you ate all the edge pieces."
He laughs, a noise I feel more than hear, and steps closer. "Why was Lou here?"
"I needed to talk," I say, licking a bit of frosting from my thumb.
"About us?"
That jerks my attention up to him, and his eyebrows go up, waiting on my answer. I take a deep, shaky breath. "Yes. About us—if there is an us."
"Do you want there to be?"
I have a sick, sinking feeling that no matter how I answer this, I'll regret it. "I don't know, Dane. It's so new—and I'm so messed up still. You deserve someone better than me. Someone like Mel."
"I broke up with her."
Dane
I can see the way she goes tense when I say the words, and for a moment, I think I screwed up. But even if Scout and I are never more than we are in this moment, I can't be with Mel. She's not what I need.
"Why?"
"Because she needs more than a guy who will screw a girl in a club and then go on a date with her. And I need a girl who is worth enough to me that I won't be that guy."
Her head cocks to the side, toying with my words, and I'm quiet and still, letting her. What is she thinking? Will she be as happy—as relieved—as I am?
Then she turns to me, and a smile has curved her lips up, devilish and making me want to kiss her until she's panting my name.
My phone rings, and I glance down at it. Curse and step toward her, kissing her hard and deep before letting go and growling, "Your brother has the worst timing ever."
I release her and bring the phone to my ear. "Didn't I just talk to you?"
"Did you really buy my sister a Jeep?"
I blink. How the hell did he find out about that already? "Actually, she bought it herself. Why?"
"Don't split hairs, dipshit. That's not a really appropriate vehicle for Scout. You know what she's like—she'll get drunk and kill herself in something that dangerous."
A headache is forming behind my eyes. "I'm not really sure why you’re calling me instead of her," I say, honestly.
Atticus is quiet. I can hear him move around in his cabin. "She won't listen to me, Dane. She thinks I'm judging her—that I'm waiting for her to fail."
"Well," I say, "you are."
Silence. I can almost feel his defensive anger. I sigh. Turn away from Scout and her prying, watching eyes.
"She's trying, dude. She's going to meetings and avoiding triggers and she found a job—she's working hard to keep herself clean. Do you think you could maybe back off a little and support her?"
I can feel her watching me. I don't like this—being caught between the best friend I've ever had, and the girl I love.
"Do you really think she'll stay sober?" Atticus asks, and for the first time, I hear something like hope in his voice.
I look at her, clean and healthy, a little weight on her, hair adorable and falling in her face. Eyes clear and questioning as she meets my gaze. This is the girl I fell in love with without trying.
"Yeah. I really do. She wants this."
Atticus is quiet, and then: "What's going on there, man? What's different about this time?"
I could tell him. It’s the perfect time—tell him that I'm in love with her and that she wants me. Except, I don't want to be the only reason she stays clean. And I don't want to scare her.
And telling him means admitting something out loud that I've been ignoring for years. I'm not ready for that.
We're not ready.
"Who knows? Does it really matter? She's clean and trying to stay that way. Support her."
It's not a request, and Atticus knows it. "I'll be home for Thanksgiving," he says, changing the subject. I nod; I expected that. It's gonna be a busy holiday this year, if Tripp and Heidi come into town too. "Avery is inviting the boys and Kelly for dinner."
"Have her call Scout—we might want to use the big house for it, since there are so many people this year."
"Is Tripp coming to town?"
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and turn in time to see Avery lick frosting off her thumb. Everything south of my belt tightens, and I shift, drawing her attention. "He might. Who knows with the old man."
She smirks as I approach her, and I meet it with a grin of my own. Put the water bottle down and grab the discarded container of frosting. Her eyes go wide when I smear the remains on her lips. I put Atticus on speaker and thumb the mute button. He's rambling about my dad—nothing I haven't heard before. I catch Scout's face in my hands and tilt her head back. Nibble at her sticky sweet lips, and slowly lick at her, cleaning her lips of the sugary frosting, dipping my tongue into her mouth with the barest of thrusts. She clutches my shirt, her nails digging into my pecs, and I hiss. Bite lightly on her lip. She moans, swaying into me as I grind my erection into her belly.
Foreplay is my favorite pastime. I'm damn good at it—I've been seducing women for longer than Scout's been driving. But this is maddening. I want her so badly I can taste it. Any other girl, the game would have ended days ago. I'd have slept with her and moved on.
"D?" Atti says, annoyed, and I grab the phone, hitting mute quickly.
"Sorry, I'm here."
"Busy day at the office?" Atti says, a grin in his voice. That's always been his sly way of asking if I was hooking up in my office.
I almost say yes. It'd be easier to say yes. But I can't—I don't want anyone thinking that right now.
I'm not ready to tell him about my feelings for Scout, but I'm not so much of douche that I want him thinking I'm screwing other girls, either.
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