Wrecked (Love Edy Book Three)

by Shewanda Pugh

  They were dating.

  “Fuck,” Hassan cursed. “Fuck!”

  When his phone rang, he plucked it from their desk and heaved it straight at the wall, watching it shatter with a note of satisfaction.

  Lawrence glanced at him and went back to his book.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Silas, I need help with this question. Tell me what you think,” Levi said.

  Silas laughed. “I think you should ask Edy.” He propped his feet on the coffee table and picked up the remote.

  “Fine. She’s better at this stuff than you anyway.” Levi scooped up his binder and textbook before dropping on the couch next to Edy.

  Silas shrugged, but the upturn of his lips was unmistakable. “Look. I’ve told you before. I’m an artistic sort of fellow. Academia isn’t where my talents lie.” He nodded at Edy. “Help him, would you, rabbit?”

  Edy looked up from her laptop and her butchered history essay. “Sure. What’s the question?” It really was getting late. If she could help Levi wrap up his homework, she would. They usually waited until he went to bed before practicing.

  “I can’t remember who the first civil engineer was.” He looked put out by the idea of not remembering anything.

  “Oh, it’s Imhotep,” Edy supplied. “He designed the Saqqara Step Pyramid outside of Memphis.” She’d visited it with Hassan and their dads. Their fathers had been working in Egypt, back when it wasn’t so subject to random outbursts of violence, and had taken them on a grand tour in a beastly summer heat. They’d seen Giza and the Sphinx, ventured inside Khufu, and they even saw the burial chamber in Dashur.

  It seemed like another life and another girl.

  “Sweet,” Levi said. “Thanks.”

  He’d swept Edy from her mournful reverie.

  “Get to bed,” Silas said. “Stop dawdling.”

  Levi packed up his belongings and gave his brother a fist bump. He fixed Edy with a shimmering smile, which she returned absentmindedly, before bounding off for the night.

  “You’re thinking about him,” Silas said.

  Edy started guiltily. “No, I’m not.” Well, she didn’t want to, anyway. What was the point?

  Silas closed her laptop and set it aside. He studied her with cool gray eyes. Scrutinizing. Calculating.

  Edy wondered what it would be like for Silas to lose control. For him to weaken at the caress of another, to fumble, reaching, desperate to feel teeth, tongue, touch. Those cool gray eyes would heat like molten steel. She cleared her throat nosily at the thought and looked away.

  “According to you,” Silas said, “you’re never thinking of him. You must be over him. So, prove it. Kiss me.”

  Her breath caught at the thought and her gaze dropped, automatically, to his lips. His tongue dipped out, wetting them, and her breath came a little slower.

  She was a liar, of course. She thought of Hassan so much. But Silas was right, in a way. If she was over Hassan, she would probably be able to kiss him. She needed to get over Hassan, too. He had absolutely proven her right regarding Mala, wasting no time in openly seeing her after parting ways with Edy. She tried not to think of what that meant. Though at night, when the room was still, it hit like a brick to the skull. She’d break down and sob with wounds so fresh she knew she hadn’t done any healing. Maybe Silas could help her with that.

  “Well?” he said.

  Edy decided to try on some of his nonchalance. “Sure. I’ll kiss you, if you want.”

  He cocked a brow, laughing at her with his eyes. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  She could do this. It was nothing, right? Just skin and wetness and emotions, maybe.

  Edy scooted a little closer. Silas did the same. She held her breath, counting backwards from three before swooping.

  His little chuckle cut off with a sharp inhale and, for a moment, Edy swore that he wouldn’t respond at all.

  Boy, was she wrong.

  Their lips met and a groan escaped Silas. Both his hands found her hair and pulled her in hard, shoving heat through every part of her body. But that was okay. They were young and sexual tension was normal. It didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t have to mean…

  She was pulling away unsteadily, light headed and breathless all at once, searching his face for some sign that what had just happened meant nothing. That she was nothing to him and he had been joking.

  He reached for her again, mouth coming down hard. Their lips parted, tongues meeting in a crash of heat. He was gathering her up now, pulling and pressing her closer with hands that ran down her back, tightening at her waist and bringing her in. Edy came willingly, confused by the heat that stirred within her. She whimpered involuntarily and her phone rang. When she tore away from him, he sighed.

  Wyatt. A message from Wyatt. She read it over, then read it again to be sure.

  “What is it?” Silas said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I… have to go.” She keyed in her response.

  “Edy,” Silas said, “we’re kind of in the middle of something.”

  She looked up guiltily. “I—” She didn’t know how to explain Wyatt to him. She didn’t know how to explain Wyatt to anyone. “I still have to go,” she said.

  He looked her over and it was then she saw it: the molten steel she’d imagined, the barely contained passion she’d pictured.

  “If that’s Hassan…” he warned.

  “It’s not,” she said. She didn’t even know how he could think that. “I wouldn’t…”

  She had no idea how to phrase it. But whatever she’d been trying to say, Silas seemed to understand. He gave a curt not.

  “Fine,” he said. “Let me get the helmets. I don’t want you having a heart attack over what might happen.”

  She’d been lecturing him into oblivion about his inability to wear a helmet. At the very least, he now wore one because of her. He’d even bought a second one, ‘just in case’ he’d said. Half the time, Edy kept it in her room.

  “Where are we going?” he said, when he’d returned with the gear.

  This part would be sticky. “To Wyatt’s house. The place where we partied together and got sprayed with beer.”

  He went still. “I remember it.” His eyes hinted at all kinds of assumptions about her and Wyatt Green.

  So, it wasn’t just Hassan.

  “He was a friend,” Edy said. “Only ever a friend.” For some reason, it felt important that Silas knew that.

  “Was?” he echoed.

  Damn, the boy didn’t miss a thing.

  “Was,” Edy said firmly and met his gaze so that he knew the conversation was over.

  Silas shrugged. “Let’s go. I don’t want Levi to miss me.”

  The two of them hopped on Silas’ bike and made the way from Port Allen to Jim Taylor Drive, making record time. When they arrived, Edy leaped from the motorcycle, earning a shout of alarm from Silas, before his arm shot out and captured her by the wrist.

  “Remember how I told you that your weight and balance affect the bike?” He looked absolutely pissed.

  Edy nodded and dragged her gaze to the townhouse.

  “Good,” Silas said. “Don’t forget it again. Now do you mind telling me what the hell we’re doing here?”

  She bit her lip, momentarily torn with indecision. Then, deciding it would be faster to tell him what was happening, and probably best considering the likelihood that he was walking into a volatile situation, she said, “I think he’s going to hurt himself. He sent me a really weird message. It was scary.”

  Silas cursed. “Let’s go then.” And it was he who dragged her along, as he hadn’t let her go yet.

  They tore up the stairs and banged on the front door, first Edy, then Silas.

  He looked at her. “Do you think we’ll have to break it down?”

  She had no idea how people did that outside of movies. “Maybe using a window would be a better idea.”

  “We’re on the second floor.” He banged again and the d
oor flew open in his face.

  Wyatt scowled. He looked from Silas to Edy, face purpling right before them. Then his gaze dropped down to where they were holding hands. In fact, hers was squeezing the color right out of Silas’. When had that happened?

  “Let us in, Wyatt,” Edy said and slipped her hand free of Silas’. He said nothing, but he glanced down as if he hadn’t known they were holding hands either.

  Wyatt stormed off, leaving the front door opened. Edy went after him. They tore through the living room, past the foyer and dining room, before rushing down a hallway she remembered from before. He turned on her, halfway down, and choked, red-faced.

  “Why’d you have to bring him with you? Why do you always…” He trailed off, eyes glistening with tears.

  Edy frowned. “Why do I always what?” she said gently.

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Nothing I do. It will never make a difference. I’m no one. I’m nothing.”

  She was frightened now, so afraid of what he might be thinking. “Wyatt, please,” Edy said and realized she was trembling. Her own vision blurred. “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Like what? Like the truth? You’ll never want me! There’ll always be some other guy. Hassan, or… or this one.”

  Edy’s tears evaporated. “What does this have to do with me? I don’t understand.”

  “It has everything to do with you!” he exploded. “I’m here because of you! I love you, Edy, and you’re goddamned killing me. You don’t even care. It doesn’t matter what I say, what I do, I can’t get you to see me. Please… tell me how to change. Tell me what you want. Muscles? They’ve both got muscles. I’ll go to the gym three times a week. I’ll go every day. I’ve got money now. You can have that, too. Just… love me back.”

  God, this was a mess. She could feel her stomach churning. He meant these words. He loved her. He loved her so much he forgot to love himself. He loved her to the point of possession and beyond. He’d do anything to own her.

  “I can’t,” Edy whispered.

  “I didn’t do it!” he screamed. “I didn’t rape her. I know you think I did, but I didn’t rape my cousin. I’ve never even had sex before. I’ve been holding out for you. Hoping for you.”

  “Wyatt…” She should leave. She never should have come.

  “I’d never even kissed anyone until I came down here.” He hardened with these words, eyes going flat and angry. “She wants to have sex with me. Girls want to have sex with me now. Do you know that?”

  Edy hesitated. “They’re not the right kind of girls, Wyatt.”

  “What do you know about it? You don’t want me! You’ve been rejecting me for years, making me out to be a laughingstock. Now you want to tell me who’s right for me? It’s you! Haven’t you been listening?”

  “It’s not, Wyatt. I swear, it’s not. When you meet the right girl, you both will feel something. Not just you. Not just her. And she won’t care whether you have money or not.”

  He broke out with a sob, then stamped it out by pressing his fist to his mouth.

  “You don’t feel anything for me?” he asked eventually.

  She never had. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She only hoped that this was the right thing to do—that honesty was the right thing to do and that she wasn’t pushing him over some edge. He’d had a hard life, and if it was true that he hadn’t hurt his cousin, then he deserved much better—better than Edy even, who couldn’t love him the way he deserved.

  Wyatt disappeared into his room, slammed the door, and bolted it.

  Eventually, Silas retrieved her from where she stood in the hall.

  Chapter Thirty

  The campus reeked with hysteria in the days leading up to the game. Every night there was a party causing fewer and fewer students to attend class the next day, until by Friday classes were getting cancelled altogether.

  There was good cause for the hype. LSU and Alabama were top ranked teams in the nation. Their performance on the field would do more than bestow bragging rights for the rivalry. A win would all but guarantee a slot in the College Football Playoff and a chance to compete for the Bowl Championship. A loss would drop said team from serious contention. Also, there was Hassan. He’d talked a boatload of shit about the Alabama match-up, swearing in one interview that the team was packed full of fat boys. He hadn’t been able to help it. They’d booed him insanely back at Ole Miss. It got his juices going. It got his mouth going. He’d been forced to run laps around the practice field endlessly for the wagging tongue.

  But for all the talk of football, Alabama, and Heismans (he still couldn’t believe that one), Hassan mostly had a single thought on his mind: Mala. The thought of dating her had sent shockwaves of panic through his system. It told him everything he needed to know. While he had agreed to meet her in a sullen bout of anger, he realized, in hindsight, how utterly stupid that was. How that single decision affected others and erected hope for them. He would have to tear it all down. He would have to straighten out this mess once and for all.

  He couldn’t meet her in the days leading up to the Alabama game, given that New Orleans and Tulane were a good hour away. She’d called him a few times that week though, and, in a panic, he sent her to voicemail a few times, unsure of what to say but certain it needed to be said in person. Finally, with her persistence he answered, only to mostly hold the phone and field her awkward talk of football, her fumbling compliments regarding the game, and one pulse stumbling moment when she outright called him da zrra armaana me, or, her heart’s desire. He’d held the phone as if he thought Mala and the moment would disappear if he’d only stop breathing. Neither did, and the anxiety snaked through him so fiercely, so completely, that he had to excuse himself from the phone. What the hell was he doing? Marrying Mala Bathlar because Edy didn’t want him anymore?

  Wait. He’d been the one to break up with Edy. Some days, he had to remind himself.

  He decided to concentrate on football. And school. He’d decided to major in Business and in Communications. Or maybe Sports Administration. It was still early.

  There’d be no more phone calls with Mala until he was ready to have the talk with her. After their discussion, there would be no more acknowledgment on his part of the engagement. He finally understood what Edy meant. He’d been the problem all along. He had given the arrangement legitimacy by recognizing it, but claiming to want out of the relationship. He had never said that he was not engaged. It meant that he’d tacitly agreed that he was. God, he’d been an idiot. Poor Edy. Poor Mala, even.

  Hassan spent the week prepping for the game. In English class, he cast surreptitious glances at Edy as he tried to determine whether she was happy. Did the other guy make her happy? No doubt he wasn’t engaged. He didn’t have a mother either who labored diligently to keep them apart. At least she could be happy now. He really did want that for her.

  His heart ached still. He loved the girl; there was no point in denying that. Any talk of her with another bled jealousy off him in waves. He didn’t bother to hide it. Even Freight and Cash had asked him why he didn’t just take her back if he was so crazy with her. But how could he? He’d said some awful things. She’d moved on so effectively. Only Hassan drowned in the past. Only Hassan swam in memories so deep.

  Alabama came. The madness was like nothing Hassan had ever seen. The reaching and screaming during the walk to the stadium was tremendous. Fans screamed their lungs dry, waving flags and banners, begging for pictures, shouting compliments. A little one asked Hassan for an autograph. An old guy cursed himself cross-eyed as he cheered them on. Hassan stopped and hugged and signed because he couldn’t not. These people loved him. He couldn’t help but love them back.

  Once at the stadium, Hassan knew this game would be different. Both teams played faithfully in the most difficult division of the most difficult conference in college football. Each year the Crimson Tide and the LSU Tigers gathered for one of the most hostile games in football. More than players co
mpeted. Cheerleader against cheerleader, dancer against dancer, mascot against mascot, crowd against crowd—all determined to stake a claim to superiority for their team. Up in the stands, Edy’s girls had new uniforms that looked specially made for the game. Glittering black tops with ‘LSU’ emblazoned across the front and teensy shorts of the same black material. Hassan held his breath, then forced himself to look away, certain he wouldn’t play right should he ruminate too long on Edy’s outfit and how it clung to those curves.

  Hassan entered the stadium and got hit with a cup of Coca-Cola in the face.

  Had he not been looking at Edy, he would’ve sworn it was her. Had it been last week, he would have guessed it was Mala. Or his mom. Who knew with the number of people he pissed off daily.

  But this was only a red-faced Alabama fan. Security moved quickly in his direction as an LSU staff member supplied Hassan with a towel.

  “I can see you have adoring fans everywhere,” Lawrence said, before pulling him along. They made their way to the field for stretching and the soda to the face was soon forgotten.

  ***

  Edy watched the field with trepidation. More than once, Tamela had to tell her to uncross her arms and sit like the other girls. They were not to ball their fists and curse, especially.

  She had seen the big wad of a man who threw a soda at Hassan. She had nearly gone there herself, until Naomi grabbed her wrist the second she moved. Frustration mounted nonetheless and Edy sent a silent prayer that the guy would be forced to pass her on his escorted exit out, so she could at least trip him as payback. He didn’t, leaving her to cross her arms and give one epic sigh. Tamela was on her in an instant, about her facial expression, her posture, her ability to get distracted at these games, and ‘Oh, by the way, I thought you two had broken up,’ she threw in for good measure, which straightened Edy out like nothing else could.