“It depends. If someone was hurting my mom or you or someone I cared about, no questions asked, I’d definitely hurt them.”
She smiles. “Okay. Let me rephrase. Would you hurt someone who did nothing to you or anyone you care about?”
I shake my head. “No. I would never do that.”
“And if you saw that girl walking down the street, would you attack her? Blame her for getting you kicked out of school? Would you attack the fraternity that was hosting the party?”
“No. It’s not their fault. What happened is on me. I probably wouldn’t approach that girl, because I wouldn’t want to bring up bad memories. Even if I am really sorry and can’t remember shit.”
“That’s why you’re different. You could easily blame the whole world for being against you. But you aren’t. You messed up. You’re owning it.”
She’s right. “How did you get to be so smart?”
“I don’t know. Hanging around Madison rubs off.”
I laugh. “It sort of does.”
We leave the room hand in hand.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sarah
Graham is an addict. Maybe dating him isn’t the best idea. My mind keeps telling me to run. My heart, on the other hand, is begging me to stay. But how will I know that this, whatever this is turning into, will be good for him? And did my cheating cause this? All I know is I love him.
With exams and the due date for my project coming up, I’ve been super busy. And don’t get me started on work. If it weren’t for coffee I’d probably be dead from all the sleepless nights. This also means I’ve had no time to see Graham, and it’s really got me on edge.
But we’ve been texting and chatting. He’s been busy helping his mother decorate the outside of the house. He said if I thought the inside looked bad I should see the outside. He said it looks like someone threw up Christmas in his yard.
As I’m sitting in the library, poring over the materials for my math exam tomorrow, my phone buzzes next to me. I peer over at the screen and hit ignore. My phone lights up again with the same number, which I don’t recognize. I continue to hit ignore. After the third time, I finally answer and huff out, “Can I help you?”
“Is this Sarah Morris?”
“Might be. Who is this?”
“This is Kelly Lane from WBX news. We were wondering if we could have an exclusive interview with you? Regarding your mother’s recent suicide attempt.”
I feel my blood draining. I’ve avoided the press for nearly a year. I ditched my cell as soon as I moved in with my auntie and uncle. The calls died down after Auntie Heather changed the house phone. But this woman claims my mother tried to kill herself? My panic rises in my throat. I close my eyes to try to calm down. “How the hell did you get this number?” I whisper with so much venom it makes my own skin crawl.
“It took a lot of digging. You’re not an easy person to track down.”
“Don’t call me again!” I hang up the phone. Suddenly the library doesn’t feel safe anymore.
I call my auntie. “Sarah?”
“Did they call? Did she really try to kill herself?” I ask as I gather up my things to leave.
I hear the choking sobs. “Yes. She tried. They put her under a seventy-two-hour watch.”
I don’t know if she’s doing this because she’s trying to gain attention or she really can’t handle being in jail. Should I feel bad? Why do I not feel anything but anger? She did this. All of this shit to those people. To me. And now what? She feels remorse? Impossible. The only thing that woman cares about is herself and the bottom dollar.
“Sarah?” my auntie says.
“I, uh … I’ll be home in a little bit.”
When my parents were arrested, I had options. I could have moved to Denver, where my uncle Jackson lives. I could have moved in with Auntie Sally, who lives in Los Angeles. But I chose Auntie Heather. This small-ass country town sounded like the perfect outlet. Plus, Auntie Heather helped create me. So I needed to be here.
But now my whole protective bubble feels popped. Oh God, what if they can track me?
I shut off my phone and rip out the battery. I toss it in my purse. Where can I go that no one will find me?
***
The wind whips around, causing the air to chill my skin. I can feel the goose bumps prickle and erupt down my arms and legs.
No one is here. No humans anyway. Plenty of birds.
I take a seat on the cold stone ground. Moving here and pretending I could have some kind of normal life was a mistake. It’s only a matter of time before they camp out in front of the lawn. This is why I needed that trust fund. Those funds could have kept me away from those damn reporters.
I just … I want to forget.
My ass is frigid. I push myself off the ground and begin to pace, hoping to put some circulation back into my body. What am I going to do now? Should I visit her? I don’t want to visit her. Our relationship is broken; she can never repair it. No matter how many times she calls. No matter how many attempts she makes on her life.
But what if she succeeds? You’ll feel even worse.
Damn it! My inner voice is right. I hate her for making me feel guilty. Like all of this is somehow my fault. I haven’t seen her since they threw her in the slammer. I refused to watch the news whenever her and Dad’s scandal would appear. The phone calls are always brief because it’s just a reminder of what kind of shitty parents I have.
What makes matters worse is that I can’t talk to anyone about this. I mean, yeah, I kind of talk to Madison. And a little with Auntie Heather. I had some professional help in the beginning, but here’s the thing, they can only help so much. They aren’t going through this strange game of tug of war. My parents want forgiveness, and I’m not budging. My parents want me to understand their stupid, twisted reasoning behind stealing from others. I can’t.
And now that my mom’s opened up a new wound, a new line to a story, the reporters will soon litter our lawn. Demanding my thoughts. I can’t escape. I can’t protect Maddy, Kyle, Auntie Heather, or Uncle Paul from them. Unless … I give in.
I don’t want to leave. I … can’t. So many questions and so few answers. It’s utterly maddening really. I kick a stone and watch it skip across the packed dirt. I pick another up, look out at the calm lake water, and inhale deeply. I let the stone loose and watch it hop along the lake. One, two, three, four times. Then it drops somewhere under the water.
“Bet you can’t get it a third of the way across the lake,” a voice bellows behind me.
Startled, I turn. “How did you know I’d be here?”
Graham closes the space between us and wraps his arms around me. “You look cold, sunshine.”
I nod slightly. His lips press into my forehead. “Babe, what’s wrong? I tried calling your phone. We were supposed to have a late dinner. Remember?”
I nod again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t … ” A sob breaks free. “I don’t think we can see each other anymore.”
Graham takes a step back and studies me. “Sarah, what’s going on? Is it because of what I did? I completely get that. I just … I need to know.”
“It’s not you. It’s me. Well, it’s my parents. It’s always them. My mom … She just tried to kill herself.”
He pulls me back into his chest again. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m here. You know that, right? Whatever you need, I promise. Just tell me what you need.” He strokes my hair, and I feel protected. But I know this feeling won’t last.
“I have to go.”
“Okay. Where do you want to go? Babe, look at me. You’re in no condition to drive. I’ll take you wherever you need to be, but you have to tell me where we’re going. Okay?”
I nod. “I need to get to my auntie and uncle’s and pack.”
“All right. Then where are you going?”
“To the airport. I’ll have to see her, Graham. This whole nightmare won’t end until she gets what she wants. And the reporters. They’ll want a sto
ry. They’ll camp out for weeks until they get one.”
The tears keep coming. I sniffle. “One of them already found me. I haven’t had any of them hunt me down. Mostly because this is a burner phone. Only a handful of people have this number. It’s only going to get worse from here.”
He doesn’t say anything. He leads me away from the lake and back to our cars. “Get in.”
His fingertips skim my cheek and then cradle the back of my head. He draws me to his mouth and plants one hard kiss that leaves me utterly breathless and begging for more. He shuts the door and then slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he misses the turn leading to my house.
“Trust me.”
I notice he’s not taking us to his house because he missed the turn for that a while ago. Good. I mean, I love being with Graham, but if his mom’s home I don’t need her seeing me like this. It only leads to questions.
He turns off onto a path deep in the woods. Honestly, if I didn’t know Graham I’d say he was taking me to some shallow grave in the middle of nowhere, where not even a hunting party would be able to find my body. You know, the stuff horror stories are based on. We drive for about five minutes, maybe longer, until we come upon a decent-sized cottage.
He gets out of his car and comes around to my door. Once he opens it, I step out. Graham leads me toward the cottage. “Where are we?” I ask as he grabs a key from under a rock on the porch. What an odd place to put a rock or hide a spare key.
“This, my dear, is my cottage. Well, it was my grandpa’s, but he died and left it to me. Don’t get all mopey face about it. I don’t remember him much. He died when I was three.”
“Oh. Still, it’s sad.”
He shrugs, unlocks the door and leads us inside. The place is all rustic and manly. Obviously his grandma had put no touches on the décor. Hanging on the rods on every window in the small front room are tattered drapes decorated with burnt-orange leaves mixed with the makings of a forest floor. Oh my goodness. Camouflage curtains. I have seen it all now.
Graham shuts us in. It’s dark, but not for long. He flicks a lighter and moves to what looks like a candle. But when he gets closer to the object and presses his finger to a red button, I realize it’s a lantern.
The light is bright and illuminates the entire room. It causes me to sniffle and smile. “Well, that’s impressive.”
He smirks. “You think?” He sets down his lighter on the table next to the lantern and makes his way over to me. “I know you’re confused, hurting, and mad right now. And whenever I feel like I’m on the verge of losing it, I come here and … well, lose it, so to speak.”
He drops a kiss to my forehead. “So I want you to lose it, Sarah. Be mad. Throw something. Scream. Whatever you want. Just let it go. When you feel a tiny bit better I’ll take you home to pack. Deal?”
I nod. Even if it sounds like the silliest thing ever.
He guides me over to a corner of the room and says, “Let loose, sunshine.”
I notice the floor is littered with broken items. A clock is all mangled, a few pictures are smashed. I pick one up and suck in a breath. It’s of me and him.
He frowns. “That was after the whole Ryan thing.”
“Okay.”
He hands me an ugly pot then gestures to the floor. “Go ahead, sunshine. Break it.”
I study the pot. The massive amount of emotions I’m feeling slams into me hard. My love for him, the loss of my friends, my parents, my life. Everything swims in my gut, and all of a sudden I just want to leave it all. I hurl the pot directly to the floor, and it shatters into a million pieces.
My body is overcome with exhilaration. I can’t believe how great that felt, just breaking something.
“How do you feel?” Graham asks with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Amazing. That … felt amazing.” I smile, and he kisses my mouth.
“Wanna try again?”
I nod. He quickly releases me and grabs some more things for me to break. For the next twenty minutes, I just smash pots and glasses, and it feels great to let go.
When I finally feel a bit better, I turn to him. “Thank you.”
He presses my body flush with his and then kisses me until I’m breathless. “Any time, Sarah. I told you, I’m here for you. Anything you need, just ask. Okay?”
“Okay.” I stare at his lips with fascination. “Graham?”
“Yeah?”
“Help me forget.”
He raises a brow. “Forget what, babe?”
“Everything. I don’t want to be the good daughter tonight. I don’t want to see her or care about her. She didn’t care about me. They didn’t think about what would happen to me if they got caught. They just … ”
He embraces me and kisses my forehead then my lips. “I know, babe.”
I don’t know what comes over me. I guide his hands, which are in my hair, down to my butt. He takes the hint, cupping my backside, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Graham carries me over to a worn sofa and lays me down. My hands grip the edges of his shirt and start to yank and pull. He moans against my mouth as my nails drag along his back.
He nips my lower lip and grinds against me. “I want you. So fucking bad it hurts.”
“Do you?” I know he does, I can feel his erection pressing between my thighs.
“Yeah, babe. I do.” He guides my hand to his hard-on, and I arch into him. “Keep doing shit like this, Sarah, and I’m going to rip all your clothes off in about ten seconds.”
“Please,” I beg. I need him as much as he needs me. To forget everything else. I need to be in this small moment with him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Graham
I should have stopped before we shed all our clothes. As we lay naked in the aftermath of sex, I can’t help but think she’s going to regret this.
I stroke her soft tresses and kiss the top of her head lightly. She moans and splays her fingers upon my chest. “I love you,” she murmurs.
Did she? How? How can this beautiful girl love someone like me? I’m a complete fuck-up. Christ, I just took full-on advantage of her at her weakest moment. I’m an asshole. It’s only a matter of time before she sees that and goes running for the hills. I tilt my head to see if she’s awake or sleeping. Her eyes are closed, but I’m not sure she’s in a deep slumber. So I ask, “Who do you love?”
“Graham. Love … him.” My heart pounds like crazy, and I tighten my hold on her waist.
She moans again and lightly snores against me. She loves me? The sleep version, that is. Still, what am I going to do? I can’t wake her and say, “Hey, do you really love me?”
I do know this, though: I can’t lose her again. If anyone tries to upset or harm her in any way I’m going to be there. No matter what.
***
Chirps wake me. I groan and stretch my arms as a heavy weight presses against my chest. I smile as I look upon her naked body sprawled out across mine. “Hey, baby. I think we overslept.”
“Hmmm?” she says as she slowly opens her eyes.
“Hey, you.”
“Hi. What time is it?” She yawns.
I pull my cell from my discarded jeans. “It’s seven thirty in the morning.”
Her eyes widen. She slaps my chest and springs off me. I watch her snatch up all of her clothing from the floor. Jesus, her nakedness is a beautiful sight. “Where’s the fire?” I ask.
“I’m going to be late.” She frowns as she tugs on her underwear.
I stand up and close the space between us. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her to me until her breasts are pressed against my chest. I kiss her neck and work my way to the sensitive spot under her earlobe. The soft fabric in her hands falls to the floor once again, where they belong, in my opinion. Her breath catches and comes out in rapid pants, tantalizing my skin. Her nails dig into my shoulders, and then she groans, “Stop. You have to stop.”
“Baby, what are yo
u late for?”
“Exam,” she says breathlessly, “or at least I will be if … You have to stop.”
She melts against me so of course I’m not going to stop kissing her. Especially when she moans and then attacks my mouth with hers.
She pulls back before we can get started and shakes her head. “I can’t. I want to. Believe me, I really want to. But I’ve got to get to school.”
“Okay, let me get dressed and drive you back to your car.”
She shrugs on the rest of her clothes. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem, babe.”
She smiles, but it’s not the kind of smile that reaches her eyes. God, she probably regrets what we did last night. Hell, I bet if she had her car here she’d already be out the damn door. I get dressed quickly and walk out of the cottage. I open up the door for her first.
After we’re in the car, I drive us to the lake. Unfortunately, our drive is silent. Like, you could hear a pin fucking drop. Yeah, she’s in full-on regret mode. Damn it! I knew I shouldn’t have done it. Knew I should have stepped back, but fuck me, I want her. Still want her.
As soon I park the car, she fidgets with the door handle. “Babe, I got this. Please.”
She knows I’m a gentleman. My mom taught me manners and opening doors for ladies is number one on the list. Helping a lady with her chair is number two. The list goes on and on. Point is, I’m opening her damn door.
She blinks. “Oh. Um.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles. “Okay. Sorry for being so … ”
“Jumpy? It’s fine. I get it.”
“I’ve got to get going.”
I hop out and open her door. She springs from it like it’s molten lava. Her lips brush my cheek, and she says, “Thanks. I’ll call you.”
She’s not going to call. I know it. Why? Because of how she said it. She looked at her damn feet.
Once she’s in her car, she speeds off.
Graham (Scandalous Boys Book 2) Page 14