Untouchable: (Unstoppable - Book 1) (The Unstoppable Series)

by Danielle Hill

  And I knew.

  My hand flew to cover my mouth as one lone tear worked its way over Reno’s lower lid and bounced to the speckled linoleum beneath his feet.

  Brett didn’t make it.

  I asked without asking. One hand still covered my mouth while the other pressed into the wall, trying to find something to grasp onto and keep myself upright.

  He answered without words. A simple shake of his head. Another tear escaped, and he turned away from me.

  The doctor’s mouth formed a sympathetic grimace as he squeezed Reno’s knee, then rose to stand. Glancing in my direction, he inclined his head in what seemed to be condolences and left the room.

  I ran to Reno’s side, wrapping my arms around his neck and tucking my face into his shoulder. I needed to be the strong one; keep myself together so he could fall apart, but the burden I carried pressed down on me like a giant’s fist, the weight crushing, unbearable. His arms came around me, and I positioned myself sideways across his lap. His head rested in the crook of my neck, quickly dampening the material of my sweater. I held tighter, trying to keep all the pieces of him together, because the thought of what was still to come terrified me.

  A few minutes passed before he shifted, lifting me easily from his lap to the chair beside him.

  “I’m so sorry, Ren,” I choked.

  He lifted his head slowly and brought his eyes to mine. “Did you get through to Owen?”

  I felt the blood drain, my entire body growing cold as the breath froze in my lungs.

  His brows drew together, thick, black slashes angling down on his unusually pale face. He must have read the dismay on my face. “What? Is he coming?”

  My features crumpled as I reached to cover his hand with mine. “Ren,” I started, but the words wouldn’t come, couldn’t make their way past the boulder of grief blocking my windpipe. I dropped my head.

  “What? Riley, what’s going on?”

  Rough hands grasped my biceps, probably harder than he intended or realized. I raised my head despondently and gently shook it.

  “I couldn’t get through, but I... when I was outside, they brought someone into the ER. From an ambulance. He had multiple stab wounds and it... it didn’t look good.” His grip intensified. I knew he was squeezing too tight, that he’d leave bruises, but I hardly felt it. “Reno, it was... it was Owen. The person they brought in. It was Owen.”

  His eyes stared into mine, but I could tell he couldn’t see me. “Reno?” I reached up to cup his jaw and he jerked away, lunging to the far side of the room.

  “You’re wrong.” His voice came out harsh, angry.

  “It was Owen, Reno,” I said, tone gentle.

  Unfocused eyes met mine, and I saw something in them I’d never seen in anyone before. Horror. Sheer panic. The kind you’d see in the eyes of a man who knew he was about to lose everything that mattered.

  “Reno,” I cried, jumping up to go to him.

  “Where is he?” he demanded, moving away from me.

  My hands fell to my sides as I opened my mouth to answer him. He didn’t wait before bolting through the doors in search of his brother.

  Without me.

  Eighteen

  Riley

  The stab wound to Owen’s abdomen had pierced straight through his liver, causing major internal haemorrhaging. They hadn’t been able to get him to surgery in time to stop the bleeding. He’d lost too much. They hadn’t been able to save him.

  Owen David Renner died less than thirty minutes after his stepfather. In the three days that passed since, people tried to find comfort in that. At least they went together. They’ll have each other up there. The platitudes were heartfelt and sincere. People needed to find the light in the dark. They failed to mention that Brett and Owen dying on the same day, minutes apart, left a seventeen-year-old boy without a family. For Reno, there was nothing but darkness. It felt like I’d lost him to it, and I couldn’t find my way through.

  Reno would turn eighteen in five weeks. Brett’s second-hand man at the garage, Trent Donovan, had said he could stay with him and his family indefinitely. But Reno hadn’t left his bedroom since he walked through the door, laden down with the possessions his brother and father would never need again. I’d stayed here, bringing him food, and taking it away uneaten. I’d knelt on the floor by his single bed and rested my head by his pillow, but he’d barely spoken a word. It was soul crushing.

  “Reno?” I rapped my knuckles against the flimsy wood of his closed door and waited. When he didn’t answer, I pushed down on the handle and went inside, a sandwich and can of soda on a tray in my hand. “Hey? Ren?”

  He sat on his bed, back against the wall, knees up and legs apart. He turned to me, eyes coasting over the tray. “Thanks,” he said, voice scratchy with disuse.

  Placing the tray on his nightstand, I perched on the edge of the bed and stroked my fingers down his forearm, tracing the protruding vein and sinew. He looked so strong. But this had brought him to his knees. He’d lost everything in the space of one night. Less than that. I wanted to be here for him. I wanted him to let me be here for him.

  “Did you sleep?”

  “Some.”

  I nodded. “That’s good.”

  My eyes swayed to the small window. The drapes, drawn roughly across the glass, left just a wide enough gap to see outside. This side of the trailer park backed onto a bunch of trees, their gnarled branches swayed in the wind, bare of leaves. It looked barren. Everything felt barren.

  “I need to plan the funerals.”

  Funerals. Plural.

  My heart plummeted. It was unfair, so fucking unfair. A knock sounded on the trailer door. Leon had left to grab a shower ten minutes ago, but people came and went all day, bringing casseroles wrapped in cellophane.

  “I’ll get it.” I jumped up, guilt tearing into me when I realized how much I wanted to escape the conversation about the funerals Reno would have to plan. My face caved when Liss appeared behind the door, and I practically fell into her waiting arms.

  “Shh, it’s okay, babe.” Her palm stroked my hair as I cried into her neck, and I felt my body trembling. “Come on.”

  She moved us through the door and closed it behind her while I cried my heart out on her shoulder. Eventually, the tears ebbed, and I sank down into a chair at the diner while Liss moved around the kitchen, filling the kettle, grabbing cups and canisters. She set everything in position on the countertop, the kettle bubbling and steaming, then turned to me, big blue eyes sad and shining.

  She cleared her throat roughly. “How is he?”

  My gaze drifted to the door, and my lips rolled together hard, squeezing to stop the sobs that never seemed to stifle.

  “Not good,” I croaked. “He was just—” I broke off, throat clogging with emotion. “He was talking about their funerals.” The word barely wheezed out of my lips, the reality of it too harsh to consider. But Reno had to. He had to consider it. Plan it. Attend it. He had to live it.

  He had to say goodbye to everyone he loved. My eyes welled again, chest tightening to the point of pain. “He won’t let me in.”

  “He will,” she said. She didn’t sound convinced. I’m not sure I would have believed her, anyway.

  Reno suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway. The sight shocked me so much I nearly knocked Liss over in my haste to meet him. He’d ventured between his bedroom and the bathroom in the last seventy-two hours, but never beyond that.

  “Hey, you okay? You need something?”

  “Nope. I’m heading out though,” he muttered, walking past me.

  “What?” My head spun to follow his movements, my brows dipping low over my eyes. “Where?”

  He shrugged, pushing his arms through his jacket and grabbing the keys to his car from the hook by the door. “Just out.”

  “Ren, I—”

  “What?” he bit, and I flinched.

  My gaze strayed to Liss who watched silently. When her eyes met mine, her lips turned down in
a slight frown before she tilted one shoulder up a tiny fraction. As clueless to what was going on here as I was.

  Looking back to Reno, I held my arms out at my sides. He was hurting, vulnerable. I’d seen him at his lowest and that had to be hard for him. But I loved him. And I wanted to be the person he turned to, leaned on.

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Thumbs digging into his hips, he studied me for a long moment, then sighed. “No, Ri. Thanks for everything you’ve been doing, but you don’t need to.” He spread his arms wide, his gaze surveying the surrounding space. “This is it now. I’m good.” His voice cracked, but he pivoted and pushed through the door, leaving me watching after him.

  My heart plummeted and the ground beneath my feet seemed to give way. Because this was what I’d feared, what I’d predicted, and I didn’t know how to stop it from happening.

  “I’ve lost him.”

  An arm came around my shoulders. “Give him time.”

  It scared me that time might not be enough.

  Nineteen

  Riley

  “You ready, hon?”

  My hands dunked the mug into the warm water, lifted it, rinsed it, and then placed it onto the drainer. Then a bowl. Dunk. Lift. Rinse. Place. Then a fork. And a spoon. Then they ran out of dishes. I left them immersed in the sink, looking down until a drop of water plonked onto the surface, leaving a spiralled ripple. I squeezed my eyelids closed, holding off another bout of tears.

  “Oh, hon.” Mom tugged me into her embrace. “He’ll be okay. You’ll see. Men don’t deal well with emotion, and he’s had a boat load dumped on him recently. Just be there for him.”

  “He doesn’t want—”

  “He does,” she cut in. “He might not say it, might not even realize it, but he needs you right now.”

  I nodded, inhaling a shaky breath while steeling my shoulders and easing back out of her hold. Time. Everyone said to give him time. I could do that. But today, I’d stand by his side whether he wanted me to or not. I’d hold his hand while he buried his family, and I wouldn’t let go. Mom was right.

  Today, at the very least, he needed me.

  I’d never been to a funeral before. I’d never had anyone to lose, not really. My mom had always been so young that she’d seemed invincible to me. I’d never contemplated her death. I had no living grandparents that I knew of. My mom’s mom had passed only months after I was born. There were no aunts, uncles, or cousins. Death had never touched me. Until now.

  Mourners gathered in black, heads low, faces drawn and pale, silent tears tracking over their cheeks. The weather matched the occasion. Ominous clouds hovered, threatening a downpour that came as the twin coffins lowered, side by side, into the ground. Heavy mud splattered on top of the polished surfaces, obscuring them from sight forever. Reno and I remained together, his hand clutching mine tightly, as it had all day, watching through a sheet of horizontal rain as earth slowly filled the space.

  I hadn’t cried. Couldn’t. Maybe I’d run out of tears. Or maybe it was seeing Reno standing outside his trailer, dressed in black, his proud body standing tall and his hands in his pockets. But the eyes that met mine had belonged to the three-year-old little boy who'd thought Brett was a superhero who’d saved his family. He’d looked so lost. I’d ran to him. Took his hand. And never let go. I would be strong for him. I’d wait for him and I’d be there as long as he needed me.

  He shook out of my grasp in the car on the way to the wake, which was being held at Trent Donovan’s place. I let him go. Reluctantly. The next time I saw him, he had a glass of whisky in his hand. And by the looks of it, not his first. I got waylaid by Mrs. Donovan, Trent's wife, on my way over to him. Foot tapping with impatience and my concern building, I listened politely as she asked how Reno was doing and expressed how much Brett had meant to her and her husband. The Donovans were high school sweethearts, and both had attended high school with Brett. It was clear how much they cared about him, and by extension Reno. They’d been helping with the funeral arrangements, Brett’s insurance, the running of the garage. All the grown-up things Reno shouldn’t have had to deal with yet. I was glad he had them. When I scanned the room for Reno and came up empty a third time, I excused myself and made a beeline for Leon instead.

  “Le, have you seen Ren?”

  Leon had been at Reno's place almost as much as I had. I’d seen two guys, who’d both broken bones with hardly more than a wince, shed tears for men they loved and would never get back. They’d gotten over the awkwardness mine and Reno’s relationship caused, quickly realizing how trivial it was. Death had a way of putting things in perspective.

  “He went to take a leak,” he said, hands jammed in his pockets. His eyes narrowed as he glanced around the room. “But that was a while ago.”

  He turned to the guys just behind him. “You seen Ren?”

  “Thought he left a while ago,” Mack said. The others frowned.

  “Left?” I hissed, my accusatory glare landing back on Leon. “You let him leave?”

  He held his hands up. “He said he was taking a piss, Ri.” His eyes softened and he placed his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll go find him.”

  “No.” I shrugged out of his hold, heading for the door. “I’ll go.”

  “You sure? You want me to come with?”

  “No, it’s okay. Thanks, Le.” I glanced back. “And sorry. For yelling.”

  He shrugged and smiled, but concern carved his features. “Nothing to be sorry for, Ri.”

  Liss dropped me at the entrance to the trailer park and I raced to Reno’s place. The trailer sat in darkness, every window shuttered, but when I tried the door, it swung open with ease.

  “Reno,” I called, keeping my voice low.

  I only had to take one step inside to find him. Slumped on the worn carpet with his head hanging low, one leg bent and the other stretched out in front of him, a bottle of whiskey propped against his thigh.

  “Hey,” I whispered, crossing the distance between us and dropping to my knees. “Hey, I'm here.”

  He made no move to touch me, but when I shifted the near empty bottle and took his face in my hands, he didn't stop me.

  “I'm here.” I breathed the words over and over, against his cheeks, his half-closed eyes, his head and his lips, as moisture tracked from the corners of my eyes and coasted down my face. He was so utterly broken and so fucking alone. But he still had me. I hadn’t been able to get that through to him, and tonight, I needed him to know he would always have me. No matter what it cost me.

  I kissed him, once, twice, with no response. Gripping his face harder, I pressed my mouth hard against his, my tongue sweeping against the seam of his lips, and he stirred. His hands shifted, grabbing each of my butt cheeks and dragging me roughly over his lap until I was straddling him. With a feral growl, he kneaded my flesh, his movements desperate, and then his head lifted, his mouth capturing mine with a brutality I hadn't expected.

  Before I knew what was happening, he lifted me from the ground, his solid arms circling my body and carrying me through the narrow hallway. His lips never stopped their onslaught against mine. Pushing me through a door backward, I broke contact to get my bearings, but then I was airborne, my back landing on the thin mattress with a winding thump. I pushed my elbows into the soft surface, trying to catch my breath, but he was on me before I could suck in a lungful of air. His mouth biting and sucking at mine, his hands tearing at my clothes. I was naked and shaking underneath him in seconds. He shifted back on his haunches without looking at my face and unzipped the black pants he’d worn to bury his family, the look in his eyes distant, unfocused. He wasn't here with me.

  “Ren.”

  I wanted to bring him into the moment, to make him look into my eyes and just see me. We hadn’t done this yet; he’d wanted to wait. Wanted to make sure I was ready. But now he freed himself, fisting himself in his hand before dropping between my legs and thrusting forcefully into me. Choki
ng on a cry, I instinctively tightened my thighs around him, squeezing my eyes closed against the searing pain. I'd only ever wanted my first time to be with him, but not like this. Not with him off somewhere in his own head. Breathing through the pain my body hadn't been given time to adjust to, I tried to force myself to relax, to allow him to pour some of his heartbreak into me. He was drowning, fighting for breath. I could offer him some relief from that.

  With a grunt, he dipped his head into the crook of my neck. Gingerly, I rested a hand against his head, trying to soothe his anguish. All the while he continued driving into me wordlessly, relentlessly pumping his hips until eventually he shuddered and stilled.

  I lay there, my heartbeat echoing in my skull as his thundered against my chest. Neither of us moved, except for my fingers stroking through his damp hair. His heart rate slowly decreased, and when his breaths evened out, I carefully rolled his weight off me and crawled off the bed. Stumbling to the bathroom, I dropped onto the linoleum floor with a wince.

  A sob worked its way up my throat and heaved from my body as I curled onto my side, wrapping my arms around myself. I was sad for him, for me, for us. I didn't regret being with him, giving him my virginity. I'd come here intending to give him whatever he needed, doing whatever it took to make him understand I would always be here for him, and he didn't have to face all of this alone. I just... didn't think I’d managed to do that.

  I'd allowed him to use my body to ease his suffering, but I hadn't come close to touching his pain. I hadn't gotten through to him; I'd barely comforted him. All I'd done was give him a momentary release, but it would all still be waiting for him when he woke up. All this time, I'd saved myself for him without even knowing it, and he hadn't even been able to look me in the eyes. And while I'd willingly handed over one of the most important parts of myself, one I'd never get back, he'd fucked me as if I weren’t even there. As if I was Raya Mitchell or some other random girl he used to sleep with before me.