by S. E. Hall
“Laney,” I start in but am abruptly cut off by the most competitive person in the world.
“No way, okay, so we can—”
“Baby,” Dane’s voice of reason comes in, “it’s not the Hunger Games; we’re just friends playing Pictionary. One team of three is fine.”
“But—” she starts, her pout hysterical to everyone but her.
“But nothing, you competitive thing,” he holds out a hand, “come here.”
We all watch in amazement as he literally hypnotizes her. She chews on her bottom lip, looking to each of us to take her side, rubbing a hole in the carpet with her toe. Then she looks back up at Dane slowly and he nods, wiggling the fingers of his outstretched hand…and a calmness comes over her face as she accepts it, making her way to him and into his lap.
I chance a glimpse at Emmett and yes, she felt it too…that “connection” two people have, a push and a pull ‘til they meet in the middle. That’s what I’d been dealing with for months, the force of the relationships all around me. I want it too, and I want it with Emmett. She’s staring right back at me, an understanding in her eyes. Yes, Shorty, we have the makings to be that great. “I’m sorry,” I mouth to her.
“Me too,” her shiny pink lips mouth back.
PICTIONARY—an age old game where everyone laughs and has a great time with friends and family.
HA! You need to flip the box over and read the other description…the directions for when the Crew plays it. Evan and Whitley, Mr. and Mrs. Can’t Stand Any Controversy, already left. Tate and Dane are now a team, and out for blood, since they pissed their women off and Laney declared a switch. Basically, Team Trio is kicking serious ass and it’s causing meltdowns amongst the others. And Laney is funny as fuck when she’s losing; she gets so damn flustered she can’t even speak in full, rational sentences.
The great thing? Emmett hasn’t quit laughing all night, excusing herself to the “ladies room” at least four times. I love watching her face light up and hearing the sweet sounds of her amusement. Or my favorite, when her eyes bulge out at some of the crude comments flying around. It gives me an even bigger sense of comfort, some rightness, knowing she’ll fit in with the Crew like she’s always been there.
Zach lumbers slowly up from the floor. “As much fun as you guys have failed miserably to provide, I gotta be up early. Try not to kill each other,” he jokes, grabbing his helmet and heading for the door.
And then there were six…
“All right!” Laney practically screams, all that adrenaline coursing through her turning her more into Crazy Game Laney. “Now that the teams are even, we’re starting over on the score.”
“No, ma’am,” Dane stands, “I’m done. Let’s clean up and go to bed, baby.”
“I’ll clean up,” Emmett offers, using my thigh to help push herself up. “You guys hosted; it’s the least I can do.”
I’m right behind her, my chin resting on top of her head and hands on her shoulders. I’ve been yearning for contact of any kind all night and I know she won’t chastise me in front of them. Probably a dirty move, but I have no fucks left to give. I need to feel her. “I’ll help her. Ya’ll go to bed.”
“Thank you both.” Dane reaches out and snags Laney around the waist. “Bed, woman. Now.”
Bennett and Tate call out a goodbye as the door shuts and Laney and Dane obviously “make up” the whole way down the hall to her room. Emmett and I are alone now and neither of us has moved a muscle, both standing statuesque and silent. I speak first, the words that have been dying to come out all night spilling from my mouth.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Me too,” she chokes out. “You’re kinda, I don’t know, my best friend.”
I spin her around to face me. “I’m your best friend?”
Through building tears, she nods. “You’re my only friend, really. But that’s not why— you’d still be the best one even if I had a million. You’re just that cool,” she mocks, pushing on my chest.
“Ah, Em.” I squeeze her to me, firing off kisses into her hair like a starved man. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you and pushed you for too much. Let’s start over, okay?” I lean back and catch her sweet eyes, inviting her with mine to let me back in.
“K,” she agrees, sniffling.
“Come on,” I pull her to the couch and sit her down. “Wait right here. Don’t move.” I hustle to my room, swiping up the gift bag and hurrying back to her with it behind my back. “I got you something.”
“You did?” First surprise flits across her face, then wonder, and finally the smile that lights me up. “What? Why?”
“Just a little something. I actually enjoy it as much as you do, I think.” I bring the bag around and offer it to her.
She looks to the fancy bag, then me, then back to the gift. “Can I open it now?”
“Well, yeah,” I laugh. She’s so fucking adorable.
Her tiny hands can’t get in it fast enough and when she’s made it through all the puff, she gasps. “Red,” she breathes, popping open the cap and spraying one wrist then rubbing it against the other.
I clear my throat and sit down beside her. “Were you out?”
Her head turns, beautiful green eyes rimmed with unshed tears, and she nods.
“I thought so. I missed it too.” I lift her wrist gently, bringing it to my nose and inhaling deeply. “There’s my Emmett.”
“Sawyer, I, you’re so—”
“Shh,” I give her a wink, “no big deal, Shorty. Now come ‘ere.” I manhandle her, pulling her to me and situating her on my lap. “Catch me up, what’s been going on with you?”
“Ugh.” She puts her gift down and drops her shoulders. “You don’t want to know. They condemned my apartment building today and we can’t go back in until he fixes the air, and the heat, and the locks, and about twenty other things.”
I feign surprise. “Where are you staying?”
“I have no idea. Everything just happened this afternoon. I was thinking of asking your girlfriend,” she teases me with a sarcastic grin.
“And who might that be?”
“Mariah,” she counters defiantly.
“Girlfriend,” I scoff, “very funny. Why don’t you stay here? Laney won’t mind at all.”
She scoots out of my lap backwards, mouth agape. “Sawyer, I can’t move in with you, don’t be ridiculous!”
“Okay,” I unapologetically grab her and situate her back in my lap, securing one arm around her waist, “but you can crash here until we find you somewhere else to rent. You don’t need to go back to that apartment, even if he fixes everything. Let’s find you something nicer.”
“You wear me out,” she drops her head on my shoulder, sighing loudly, “but I secretly love knowing I have you. How selfish is that?”
“It’s not selfish at all, Shorty. You’re not taking. I’m giving, freely.”
“Can I,” she whispers, tilting her head up to peer at me, “sleep in your bed tonight, with you?”
If I wasn’t sitting down, that one sentence would have dropped me to my damn knees. “God, yes,” I moan, standing and lifting her in my arms.
“Just sleeping, Sawyer,” she mumbles into my shirt, where her small, cherubic face is nuzzled.
“It’ll be the first time in four nights I get any. Trust me, I’m all for sleeping.”
A TALK TO REMEMBER
“WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME?” I ask with a giggle.
Sawyer is behind me, his hands over my eyes, walking me forward less than gracefully. “Almost there, keep going,” he whispers in my ear. One hand slides over to block both my eyes as his other does something that causes a rattling noise I can’t quite place. “Open.” He drops his hand to let me see.
I look around at the empty room, a tad confused. “What am I looking at?”
“Your new place.” He bends and kisses my cheek. “Dane owns this duplex too, since it’s by Laney and he’s insane and all—don’t ask. Anyway, this side is yo
urs for the same $450 you were paying.”
I spin around and narrow my eyes at him. The little sneak. “There’s no way this place rents for that, Sawyer. What have you done? I told you—”
He cuts me off in a placating tone. “Shorty…simmer down and just enjoy, please. And, you’re only two doors down, so if you need anything…” He shrugs, not making this feel casual at all.
“I told you.” I shake my head. “I warned you, Sawyer, don’t give me your heart.”
He lifts my chin gently, captivating me with the struggle in his eyes. “I know you did, and I’m not pressuring you, but some things you can’t call the shots on. I’m not sure if I gave you my heart or if you stole it, but either way, I don’t want it back.”
His lips crash into mine before I can stop him, his tongue seeking entry. I try, Lord knows I try, to fight it, but mortals aren’t made with that kind of strength. My mouth opens to him at the same time as my heart and I stand on my tiptoes to wrap my arms almost around his neck. Large hands scoop up my butt, lifting me as though I weigh nothing and I wrap my legs around his waist shamelessly. I don’t care, I don’t think, all I can do in this moment is try to keep breathing.
Our lips wrestle, his large and domineering, mine swollen and grateful. The deep groan he releases in my mouth drives me crazy and I grab his head with both hands, grinding my crotch into whatever part of his hard body it’s currently lined up to. “I can’t help it,” I grunt, then kiss him again, “you’re so damn sexy, and wonderful, and—”
“Fucking kiss me, woman.” He silences me, completely consuming my mouth with his own.
I don’t know how long we go at it for, both of us oblivious to anything but the taste of each other, him holding me up the entire time. But when we break to catch our breath, reality hits me. I have to tell him. I can’t fight it off anymore, the pull to him, nor can I “go” for him in good conscience. “Let’s go for a drive,” I suggest.
The tormented look on his face is almost comical, poor guy, he so thought we were about to screw like animals right here on the ground. Which I would love nothing more than to do, after I tell him…when it will no longer be an option he affords me.
“If you wanna go for a drive, we’ll go for a drive.” He sets me on my feet and links our fingers together. “Your show, Shorty, lead the way.”
—
—
—
—
“SAWYER, THIS IS MY GRAMMA, Katherine Louise Young. Gramma, this is Sawyer.”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to a headstone. “Nice to meet you” doesn’t seem quite right, so I remain silent, looking at my sweet angel with what I hope isn’t blatant pity.
“Sit down.” She takes my hand and guides me to the flat stone bench right behind her grandmother’s grave. “My gramma was all I had in the whole world. My sperm donor remains a mystery and my mother took off pretty much the minute I popped out of her.” She fakes a laugh and rolls her eyes. “She was the ultimate hair band groupie. Sadly, she never got the memo that the members of Twisted Sister and the likes are now twisted grandparents, and that no one thinks men who use Aqua Net are cool, so I’m sure she’s off living her dream of hotel rooms and reunion tour buses.” She pops her shoulders. “Who knows? Not important, really. So, when she died a few years ago,” she nods her head back to her grandma’s headstone, “I was alone.”
“Em—”
“No,” she stops me with a stiff hand to my chest, “let me say it all at once or I never will.”
I nod, scooting back an inch. She takes a deep breath before she continues.
“So when I found out I was pregnant, I decided to look at it as a blessing and make it work. I’ll have someone to give every ounce of my love to and they’ll love me back, right?
Neither of us will ever be alone.”
There are certain moments in life where you’ll never forget where you were when you heard. What you were wearing, how she wore her hair, if it was cold or hot out…I know this is one of those moments for me.
The girl I might quite possibly be falling in love with, a fall that started the first time I looked at her, is pregnant. And not with my baby.
“You’re pregnant?” I choke out, my tone as level and calming as I can keep it, hoping my face is pulling it off as well. “I saw you in a bikini—you didn’t look pregnant.”
She rolls her eyes, letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “I’m about fifteen weeks, as far as I can figure. It’ll be a while, I guess, before I really show.”
My face must have failed at stoic, showing exactly how confused I feel, ‘cause she gives me an opening.
“Ask me anything you want, Sawyer.”
“Who’s the father?” I blurt out. “Do you love him?”
“And then there’s that part.” She runs a hand through her hair and turns to look at her gramma’s headstone over her shoulder. “You might as well hear it too, Gramma. You’re both gonna freak, so let me start with,” another long exhale, “I’m fine. I’ve come to terms with it and made my decision, so please don’t think I’m crazy or try to talk me out of it.”
An eerie feeling rolls over me and I know I’m not gonna like what she’s about to say.
“I don’t know who the father is. Calm down, Gramma.” Her forced giggle is clearly false bravado and tugs at my heart; I want to hold her and make it go away. I want to kiss her silent so I don’t hear what I suspect will be some guy’s death wish. But rather, I force myself to remain still and listen, letting her get it out to both me and her grandmother; a cleansing of sorts. “I was a virgin, far from a whore,” she continues, turning back to me now. “I went to a party one night and drank way too much. I admit it and I own it—it was stupid. The last thing I remember is watching a girl in a shiny green top do a keg stand, then I woke up on the floor of a dorm room with about ten other people. I was devastated when I realized exactly how stupid I’d been, and so humiliated…” Tears are gushing down her cheeks and she’s actually snorting in an attempt to breathe, but still, I don’t move to touch her.
I’m frozen; in shock, in anger, in awe…I’m fucking frozen.
“I dug around for my shoes and snuck out, walking as fast as I could to the bus stop. I’d ridden with a girl I knew from school, but I didn’t want to look for her or talk to her ever again, so I just walked and walked until I saw a sign.”
Make it stop, I can’t hear anymore.
“When I got to the hub, I finally took a breath and went to put on my shoes. When I—” Her body racks under the violent sobs and I can’t not hold her another minute, sliding across the bench and wrapping her in my arms. “When I lifted my foot, to put…to put on my shoe, I felt it.”
I can’t ask; I don’t want to know. Instead, I hold her tighter, manically kissing her hair as I smooth it down. Rub, kiss, rub, kiss…it’s all I can do efficiently right now.
“It hurt, like a pull inside me, and a spurt of something came out.” She wipes her nose and looks up at me apologetically. “Sorry, that might be too much. I meant, I knew, I just knew, I’d been with someone.”
“You were raped.” The words burn my mouth, the sting of venom fresh on my tongue.
“No!” She’s quick to answer, but then frowns as her reaction sinks in. “I don’t know, maybe. I remember dancing with a guy, so maybe I flirted too much. I was out of it enough to not remember, so maybe I was out of it enough to say yes. I’ll never know for sure.”
Another moment I’ll always remember—I’ve never been so angry and consumed with absolute hatred in my life. The person I now hate most in the entire world is a stranger; a man with no name or face known to me, who will die the moment, if ever, we meet.
“Don’t you ever say that again!” I hope my grip on her chin is gentle as I grasp it to make her meet my eyes. “This was not your fault. You can’t say yes and mean it when you’re drugged, which it sounds like you may have been, or even passed out. And anyone with it enough to do what he did would’ve
been able to see you weren’t in your right mind.”
“I know,” she pulls her face from my grasp and buries it in my chest, “but my version makes it bearable. Maybe I just drank too much. Sometimes, not very often, I have dreams and see flashes of a scene I don’t understand. I’m not sure if it’s something I was there for or a nightmare I made up after…it.”
“Did you go to the ER when it happened, Emmett?”
“No,” she looks up, “and please don’t yell at me about it.
I thought if I couldn’t remember actually saying no, then I couldn’t accuse someone, let alone a faceless stranger, of being a rapist.”
“Are you worried he knows you?” I ask, because whoever he is, he better hope like fucking hell I never find out. I will kill him, no questions, no chance for explanation. I know myself, what I can and cannot handle reasonably—it would be both his and my “game over”—him underground, me to jail.
“No,” she mumbles. “I moved, sold my car, changed schools and jobs, everything, even though I seriously doubt he even knew my name, or cared. I’m sorry, Gramma,” she wails, the most agonizing sound I’ll ever hear, “but I’m keeping this baby. I don’t care if it’s selfish, I am! I’m not afraid of the bus or hard work!” She pauses and hiccups. “I’m…I’m afraid of one day looking into the eyes of another child I have with my husband and knowing I didn’t do everything I could to love the first one!”
“Shh.” I gather her up in my embrace as tight as I can. “No one thinks you’re selfish, babe. Wanting to pour all your love onto someone else couldn’t ever be thought of as selfish.”
“But I worry that I won’t be able to give them a good life. Like if I gave the baby up for adoption, maybe they’d get a family with a big house and a backyard, maybe some dogs.” She loses it again, succumbing to body shakes and gasping cries.
Sweet girl, her thoughts scrambled but adorable. “We can get a dog, babe,” I assure her. “I love dogs.”
“So now you know it all. That’s why we can never be more than friends. But like it or not, I feel a bond with you. I trust you and I can’t bear the thought of not having you in my life. Will you please keep being my friend?” Her bottom lip is quivering as her watery green eyes beg an answer from me.