Shallow

by Cora Kenborn

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “I’m not talking about between us.” He clasps his palms over his biceps and pins a serious stare on me. I’m doing a good job of avoiding his eyes until he hooks his foot under my thigh and drags me toward him. “I’m talking about the pills. I know they’re your mom’s. Are you using again? Because I can’t have that shit around these boys.”

  All I can do is shake my head because our nearness is doing things I’d rather not vocalize right now.

  “Speak, Shiloh.”

  Speak? Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to?

  “It was a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again,” I growl through clenched teeth. “And watch your tone, boss. Or I’ll kick your ass again.”

  Cary smirks. “‘It won’t happen again.’ Shiloh West’s famous last words.” He shifts forward, bracing both hands on the outside of my thighs. “The only problem is you seem to like to repeat your mistakes.”

  “Real chivalrous there, Mr. Kincaid.”

  He stares at me in silence before darting out his tongue and licking the half-circle of his lip ring. “You want real? Let’s get real. Was the accident really your fault?”

  I groan. “Can we not do this now?”

  “You owe me that much, Shiloh.”

  As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. He gave me two years of his life. I suppose the price of his freedom is a piece of my soul.

  “Yeah.” Slumping into a hunched position, I scrub my palms down my face. “I was high and drunk. I should’ve never been driving.”

  “Sounds familiar.” Cary’s eyes glaze over, and I can see our shared secret reflecting in them.

  “Cary, twice in my life my actions have ruined the lives of two people I cared about. One of them cost the person everything. I’ll never be able to undo that.” Emotion I don’t even know I’m capable of bubbles to the surface, making me stand and pace in front of him. “Coming back here, I’ve learned what it’s like on the other side. What I was like. It’s one of the reasons I can’t look in a mirror anymore.”

  “You don’t look in mirrors?” His voice is low with that morning-after hoarseness I imagine he has.

  “I never wanted to be a model, you know,” I answer, ignoring his question as I spiral down into a moment of self-revelation. “It’s just what everyone expected of me. Smiling and posing was all I was ever good at.”

  Apparently fed up with the Shiloh Show, Cary stands, his muscular build towering over me. We’re face to face, his warm breath blowing in my hair. “I always saw more in you.”

  “You may have been the only one.”

  He reaches to brush the hair off my cheek, then pulls back at the last minute. I can’t blame him. They’re stuck to the puckered hideousness that has become my cross to bear.

  “If you could’ve done anything else in the world,” he asks, tilting his chin upward as a lock of onyx hair dusts across his eye, “what would it have been?”

  It’s a strange question, but I don’t hesitate. “Ice skating.”

  Cary arches an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “In South Carolina?”

  I shrug. “You asked.”

  “Why?”

  Because it’s the winter to my summer. It’s the ice to the heat of the spotlight.

  I think for a moment, and answer from what’s left of my soul. “It's graceful. It takes skill. It’s pretty and people respect it. I would like that.”

  I suppose my honesty surprises him. I know it’s the last thing he expects to hear. However, I don’t get the opportunity to try to explain. As if emotionally sobered by my confession, his fingers rub against his bottom lip and he paces the ring.

  “I think you should go.”

  “How?” I ask, a little irritated at his sudden shift in temperament. “You expect me to walk across town again?”

  He ignores my comment with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Call your driver. That’s what you pay him for, isn’t it?”

  “They stole my phone.”

  “Use mine.”

  I tilt my head to the side and give him an arrogant smirk. “What about my legal obligations to clean this hell hole? You know, now that I’m the Cinderella to your Wicked Stepbrother?”

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” he laughs, jumping out of the ring, “I'm not your fucking stepbrother.”

  “Then what are you?” I counter, cocking a hip.

  He’s halfway across the room before he glances back at me with a smoldering grin. “The big bad wolf.”

  Seventeen

  Cary

  Balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder, I crumple another invoice and toss it in the backseat.

  “You’re doing what?” The shriek Taryn lets out almost shatters my eardrum.

  An hour after walking out on Shiloh, I’m sitting in the parking lot of my apartment building, having a phone conversation with the last person I want to talk to.

  Wincing, I lean away from the earpiece until she stops yelling. “I’m taking Shiloh out.”

  “On a date?” There’s a hard clip in her tone, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

  “More like on display.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  The answer is so obvious to me that I shake my head and slump down in the bucket seat of my car. God, are all women this dense? “What’s the one thing she can’t have?”

  “You.”

  “Focus, Taryn.”

  “I don’t know,” she whines, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Blow? Booze?”

  “Now you’re getting it. What better way to fix our problem than to create one?” I pause, giving her time to process my words and hopefully ignite that dimwitted lightbulb tucked somewhere inside that vapid head of hers. After a few silent moments, it brightens.

  “You’re going to get her high?”

  Okay, maybe not so much brightens as flickers a few times then explodes.

  “Don’t be stupid,” I hiss. “Messing with that shit risks my record. I’m calling Will then taking her to the bar and getting her ass plowed.”

  “Then what?”

  Holy shit. I can’t believe I actually put my dick in this bitch.

  “You’ve got to stop smoking weed, Taryn. It’s turning your brain into Swiss cheese. Why would I invite my best friend, who’s also her probation officer, to meet us for drinks?”

  “Oh,” she squeals, finally catching on. “When Will catches her shitfaced, he’ll have to report it. God, that’s brilliant, Cary!”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I’m all in, baby. Slaps on the wrist like this just add to the big finale.”

  “Meaning?” I sit up straight, the callous lift in her voice catching me off guard.

  “The original plan has been set in motion. Shiloh is going down permanently and in steel handcuffs. That bitch is finally getting what’s coming to her.”

  Shit.

  I’d thought I’d been clear in the café for her to knock this shit off.

  “Taryn,” I say, speaking slowly. “I want to make her pay for what she did, not obliterate her from existence.”

  “And I’ve told you that you don’t have a choice anymore,” she snaps back. “Your hands are going to get just as dirty as mine in this, or your parents will be out on their asses, and I’ll rename that center of yours the Taryn McDaniel Fitness Emporium. It’s your choice.”

  The way she smiles through her threat is the moment I know I’m sitting with a psychopath.

  Although what I told her wasn’t entirely the truth. Okay, fine, I made the whole thing up. But when it comes to Taryn, I give zero fucks if she finds out I just sold her a line of bullshit or not. There’s no way in hell I’m telling her where I’m really taking Shiloh. Why in the hell would I? So she can show up and shit all over what I’ve put in motion?

  Fuck that.

  Without even so much as a goodbye, I disconnect the call and throw the phone on the seat beside me. Not even Tar
yn’s threats will stop me from what I have planned tonight.

  * * *

  Shiloh wraps her hands around her bare arms and shivers even though I have a firm grip on her shoulders. My body is pressed close behind hers as I walk her forward, slightly amused by the geriatric shuffle steps she’s taking. Obviously, she doesn’t trust me.

  For good reason.

  “Where the hell did you take me, Cary? It took forever to get here and this blindfold itches. Not to mention I can’t see anything, and, shit, it feels like we’ve walked into a meat locker.”

  “Calm down, Starshine.” I move her where I want her, reminding myself why we’re here, because the blindfold is doing more for me than her. It conjures illicit thoughts of restraining the rest of her and I almost groan in anticipation.

  “Cary!” she shouts, reminding me where we are as I reach down and attempt to tame my hardening erection.

  “What?”

  “Are we going to stand here all day, or do you plan on just parading me around a walk-in freezer blindfolded for shits and giggles?”

  Obviously, we’re not at a bar, and I never had any intention of calling Will. In fact, the place is completely deserted. Just how I planned it.

  Phase one. Earn her trust.

  Working my fingers through the knot tied at the back of her head, I lean in close and press my lips against the outside of her ear. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that patience is a virtue?”

  She snorts, the sound echoing throughout the empty arena. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that virtue is a quality wasted on good Catholic girls and virgins?”

  “I’ve never been a fan of virgins.”

  “And I’ve never been a fan of stalling. Take this shit off, Cary.”

  As the last knot unties and the blindfold slides down her cheeks, I wait for it. She doesn’t disappoint, letting out a gasp as she covers her mouth. “This is an ice skating rink.”

  “Wow, pretty and quick,” I joke as her hand flies over her shoulder and smacks my arm. Resting my chin in the crook of her neck, I nod toward the freshly packed ice. “This isn’t just any ice skating rink, Starshine. This is the Wilmington Ice House. The Ice Hawks play here. A few of these kids have even grown up to play in the NHL.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why we’re here. And why you blindfolded me and drove me all this way just to show me a slab of ice where some smelly boys hit each other with sticks, and…” Shiloh’s face pales and her eyes widen as understanding finally settles across her face. “Oh my God. You brought me ice skating because of what I said yesterday?”

  “I asked if you could’ve done anything in the world, what would it have been. You said ice skating. So, cover girl, it’s time to put your blade where your mouth is.”

  “No,” she laughs, pressing both hands out in front of her, “you’re not getting me in a pair of skates out there!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’ll make an ass out of myself. I can’t skate, Cary. I was being hypothetical. I didn’t think you’d take me so literally.”

  “Well, literally speaking, you don’t know me well enough anymore to make assumptions about what I will or will not do. And hypothetically, if you bust your ass, no one is here to see it.”

  Shiloh takes a wide scan around the rink and pops a hand on her hip. “What did you do, rent out the place?”

  “Something like that.”

  Shiloh has never been one to rattle easily, so I get a kick out of the way she blinks repeatedly as if I just told her I’d decided to climb Mt. Everest buck naked.

  “Cary, you don’t have the money for something like that.”

  And just like that, the simple reminder of who we are throws a wet blanket over our banter, and I remember why we’re here in the first place.

  “Well, thank you very much for reminding me of that fact.” She opens her mouth to stutter an apology, but I hold out a hand and stop her. “The owner is a buddy of mine, and I took in one of his players’ delinquent brother at the center. He owed me a favor.”

  “But why? Why would you do this for me?”

  “Because you have this hang-up about not doing things you think you’re going to fail at. Sometimes you just have to fall on your ass, Shy. Then you get back up and fall on it again. Eventually, you learn not to fall. But you’ll never know unless you take that first hit.”

  “Why do you even care to do this?”

  “Why do you care not to?”

  “I can’t,” she says softly. “Take me home.”

  “No. You’re going to do this if I have to drag your frost-bitten ass all over this rink.” She looks up at me with that sex-kitten look of hers that’s gotten her whatever she’s wanted her whole life.

  But today, I’m hauling her out of her comfort zone.

  Forty-five minutes later, Shiloh’s legs look like she’s been sliding down a ski slope drunk and bare-assed. Her thighs are the color of hell-fire and honestly, she’s hit the ground more than she’s moved forward. I’m starting to think that whole beginners’ luck thing is a crock of shit.

  “Shy, maybe we should just call it a day.”

  “No,” she growls, climbing to her feet with a grimace. “One more time. I’ll get it right this time.”

  “Fine,” I sigh, reaching for her hands and pulling her the rest of the way up. “Last time. If you go down again, we’re done.”

  She nods and I shift to her side, entwining our fingers as she moves her skates exactly how I told her to. She wobbles, and I loosen my hold, convinced she’s going down and not wanting to be part of the carnage. To my surprise, she steadies herself and her ankles straighten. She pushes off one, then the other, eventually moving at a faster pace until she lets go of my hand and stands all on her own.

  “I’m doing it!” she screams, throwing her hands out to the side for balance. “Cary, look! I’m actually doing it!”

  I’ll be damned. She is doing it. I have to give her credit. I assumed she’d give up a long time ago, but apparently Shiloh is full of surprises. Catching up to her, I grab her hand, and for the next half hour, Captain Badass attempts shows off.

  “Nice. What happened to ‘I can’t do this, Cary. Take me home’?”

  Shiloh throws back her head and laughs, then swipes a drop of water off my cheek with her. “That was before I knew how fun it could be to fuck with you.”

  The simple gesture should mean nothing, but it grips something in my stomach and twists it into knots. It’s too familiar. Too natural. Too everything. This is about making her trust a connection that no longer exists, not reestablishing one.

  “Well, I wasn’t smoothing out the entire rink with my ass cheeks, sweetheart.” I expect her to come back at me with one of her sharp-tongued insults, so it shocks me to see tears spill down her flushed cheeks. The corners of her mouth quiver, and she covers her face with her hands as she breaks down.

  Shit. I’m such an asshole.

  “I was just kidding. Don’t take it so hard. Everyone falls.”

  Shuttering, she slides her palms from her face and punches me in the chest. “It’s not that, you big jerk.” A heavy sigh leaves her chest and she lowers her gaze. “It’s just that this is the first time I’ve not been good at something. It’s the first time I’ve let someone see me fail and not been scared.”

  “I don’t scare you?”

  “No.” She lifts her heavy lashes, tears pooling in her eyes. “You’ve seen me at my worst, and you could’ve ended me right then. Anyone else would’ve, but you didn’t. You don’t scare me, Cary. You’ve seen the ugly, yet you’re still here.” Raising the back of her hand, she swipes it along her forehead and chuckles. “I’m not sure if that makes you a saint or really stupid.”

  Her honesty shocks me. It’s not in her nature.

  “I’m no saint, Shy. I’m not the boy you kicked around in high school. That boy died when you…” My voice trails off, and I shake my head. “Anyway, I’m just a guy trying to make the best of a bad
situation. You have to be here, and I have to deal with you being here. Being dicks to each other isn’t going to make the next three years pleasant for either of us.”

  “Agreed, but I still don’t understand why you did all of this.” She motions around the empty arena. “You say you’re no saint, but I’m no angel either. So, where does that leave us?”

  I’ve asked myself the same question at least a dozen times since bringing her here. I can’t forgive her for what she did to me. The hate I’ve carried with me is too deeply imprinted to forgive and forget. However, the twisted need I have to play with her emotions makes me no better than her.

  So, if we’re both demented as hell, then her question is valid. Where does that leave us?

  But why does it have to leave us anywhere? We are who we are and not a damn thing is going to change that. Both of us have done some fucked-up shit that’s caused pain and suffering. I still want to make her pay, but maybe for one day we can block out the world and pretend we don’t hate each other.

  “Even sinners and fallen angels take a break from anarchy, Shiloh. All work and no play makes us very dull criminals.”

  I skate a step, or maybe it’s four or five. Hell, I don’t know. I’m too enthralled with the fiery look on her face to notice that she’s pressed right up against me, chest to chest, and stomach to stomach. The frigid air in the arena heats, and the minute I tip her head back, I know I should stop this, but I won’t. I can’t.

  “Ask me again,” I whisper, the cold air clouding around my breath.

  Her chin trembles in my hand. “Why did you go to all this trouble for me?”

  “I went through seven years of detox, Shiloh. But one goddamn hit of you in a bathroom and I’m a junkie again. You make me crave more. It’s never enough.”

  Eighteen

  Shiloh

  His choice of wording couldn’t have been more perfect. I get it. I understand craving. The desperation that makes you do anything for the next hit. It’s why I don’t stop him when he lowers his mouth to mine, our lips connecting in a warm and wet kiss that leaves me shaking. He deepens the kiss, teasing my lower lip with stinging bites as I stroke my tongue over the steel of his lip ring. God, that thing is so sexy.