Changing Lanes: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 2)

by A. Marie

  Classy.

  “I’m sorry to miss that.”

  I hide my eye roll, reaching down to scratch the shit out of my ankle.

  “S’all good. Do you want to take my car? I can have one of my servers pick me up.”

  “If you’re sure you don’t need it?”

  He assures me he doesn’t, so after thanking him, I’m on my way in his Mazda Miata to pick up some new clothes before heading in for my shift. It’s small but handles surprisingly well in the rain. Dixon isn’t a big guy so it’s great for him but it’s a little snug for my five-nine frame. That’s just one reason why I like my motorcycle so much—I don’t feel contained in any way. The sky’s the limit and there’s nothing holding me back. There isn’t anything to protect me either, but I like it that way. Having all possible dangers eliminated for me during my childhood only made me crave the risk that much more when I hit eighteen.

  I lay on the gas, taking corners faster than I probably should. It’s been so long since I’ve driven a car, I warm at the thrill of pushing it a little further past the line of reasonable driving. No puddle too big, no corner too tight, I drive with no real forethought, squealing excitedly anytime the car hydroplanes.

  Rainstorms are grossly under-appreciated. Dixon had the right, although greedy, idea of celebrating this tonight. Being in a semi-arid climate, rain doesn’t happen as often as the local farmers wish so when it does it’s a big deal. Most people act up by forgetting how to drive altogether but I’ve always loved the rain. Not riding on my bike in it—that’s not fun any way you slice it—but any other time I’m all about it.

  Pulling into Creekwood is bittersweet. I haven’t seen my apartment since picking up some of my things for my stay at Dixon’s. As much as I hoped a break from all the tension would help, I found myself missing my space more. It’s not all mine but it’s still mine. I was just starting to get used to it. The smells, the random bits from the guys’ previous day discarded on every surface, the open magazines lying around, the milk carton sitting on the counter when I walked in each morning. I finally solved that mystery when I saw Beckett forget to replace it in the fridge after dumping a generous amount in his coffee before I left.

  Before he ran me out of here.

  No. I chose to leave.

  And now coming back reminds me of coming home. A place that hasn’t felt the same since Mom’s diagnosis but still brings out the best memories that I yearn for like a bowl of hot soup on a cold day.

  The excitement from the drive wears off as I glance around the lot. I don’t typically see my roommates before leaving for work but it’s a habit of mine—always checking for their rides. Unfortunately, the windows are covered by sheets of water blocking my view, so I shrug it off and make a run for the stairs, spotting both bikes parked and drenched but the Tahoe and BMW missing.

  Alone inside, I decide to take another shower to get the fur-touch off my skin. With my toiletries still at Dixon’s, I use Beckett’s body wash and shampoo but forgo shaving. There are some things you just can’t share. My brother Nick would disagree wholeheartedly but only when sharing works in his favor, not the other way around. There were many times I’d find rogue hairs in my razor thanks to my most self-centered brother.

  The reminder of Nick’s narcissism has me thinking of Vernon. He continues to mutter crappy things to me any time he thinks he can get away with it. What’s worse is ignoring it doesn’t even throw him off. His malicious behavior increases with each incident. I don’t want to run to Rosie like he’s accused me of but something needs to be done. And soon.

  While everyone wants to point the finger at me and my mom’s move, I can’t help but think it has something to do with the boys not visiting anymore. Even when Tysen helped deliver her chair, he took one look at her, teared up, and ran. And since he won’t pick up his phone, I don’t know what triggered it. I mean, I know but I don’t know.

  What else is going on with him?

  My mother still hasn’t eaten a full meal and is more withdrawn than ever. That chair I bought her is about the only silver lining since she spends so much time in it these days. It’s the kind that lifts with her when she gets up so she doesn’t strain anything. I just want her to be comfortable.

  I just want her.

  It could be a combination of everything or maybe it’s her disease winning the battle I seem to be fighting solo the more time goes on. I check on her any chance I get but working the night shift can have its disadvantages in that sense. Plus, she’s been sleeping more, too, reducing the opportunities I have to visit with her fully. I still have a job to do and can’t ignore my other responsibilities even if all I want to do is curl up next to her and watch her sleep all night.

  Cynthia helps out when she can by checking on my mom but she recently put in her two weeks’ notice, choosing to work at a higher paying job in the emergency room at one of the local hospitals. Since Rosie hired on another night nurse to replace Cynthia, I’ve also been training her along with constantly placating Dennis.

  He’s been all out of sorts lately and more aggressive than ever.

  Last night was the worst I’ve seen him and he actually swung on me. I dodged the blow for the most part, only nicking my bottom lip in the process, but it was such a shock that one of my favorites would turn on me. Theoretically, I know not to take it personally but it’s much easier said than done. Everything feels personal these days.

  I run my tongue over the scab already forming on my lip. Luckily, there was only a small cut and Cynthia treated it before our shift ended this morning. It should be healed in no time.

  My stomach, however, that’s a different story. It’s been tight, twisted, and sore for days now.

  Beckett’s actions outside Xen’s were the inedible icing on the mud pie I’ve been shoveling down my throat. His sexy admission about the night before started out great. I loved knowing he was losing his mind outside my door while I was doing the same thing just inside. But then, it all changed. He changed. His hot words turned icy and mean, leaving me hanging in a bitter wind with nowhere to go and no idea how I got there.

  I just want to know why he even bothers. Why the sendoff? If he doesn’t want me around, leave me to my fucked-up life and be done. Our schedules don’t even match up so it should be easy to avoid each other entirely.

  Except, it’s not that simple for me anymore. Beckett has a way of being here even when he’s not. His absence takes up as much space as his tall body and the apartment is filled with him. As I smooth his earthy body wash over my legs, I smirk knowing it’ll lace my skin all night.

  If only it worked both ways so I could torture him the same way.

  “Who the fuck’s in there?”

  Beckett’s bellow followed by pounding on the locked bathroom door cause me to drop the bottle I’d just been replacing on the tub insert and it twirls between my feet like an enthusiastic game of Spin-The-Bottle.

  “Shit,” I curse, reaching for it.

  “Paige? Are you in there?”

  My eyes roll so hard I fear they’ll get stuck.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” Who else would it be? Despite my roommate being a bear to live with, my hair isn’t yellow and my name sure the hell isn’t Goldilocks. “Can I finish my shower now?”

  When I’m met with silence, I rinse off the rest of the soap with shaky hands before cutting the water and wrapping a towel around my body.

  Just out of the door, I run smack dab into a very familiar, very annoying wall.

  I pop both my hip and head to the side, asking, “Can I help you?”

  “You were in there alone?” Beckett’s eyes dart over my shoulder as he swallows noisily.

  “What gave it away?” I ask, checking over my shoulder and seeing I left the lid on his body wash up.

  Ah, shit.

  Still looking past me, he says, “I didn’t see your bike outside.”

  Satisfied with his own findings, he finally drops his gaze to look at me and dark clouds pass over
his face that have nothing to do with the storm raging outside.

  “What the hell happened to your face?”

  Before I can get a word out, soft hands gingerly cup my cheeks as Beckett lifts my face for closer inspection. Gently tilting my head back, he leans down, getting a better look at my lip. The intensity in his eyes mixed with his light touch has me fidgeting in my towel.

  “Do you mind? I’m naked.”

  His moody sky gaze flicks to mine briefly, almost in annoyance, before dropping to my mouth again.

  Completely ignoring what I just said, he demands, “Who did this to you?”

  I scoff, shaking off his hands. Strangely, I get the sensation I’m missing something.

  Pushing past him, I make it to my door before his hand is gripping my elbow, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Paige, who did that to you? You haven’t been here for three days and you show up with a busted lip. What am I supposed to think?”

  Beckett’s quiet voice raises the hairs on the back of my neck as I fight a shiver, the sound like a warm bath after a long day I want to get lost in for hours. Or days. Maybe longer.

  I manage to step away, if only to keep from going to him, and get a good look at him finally. Beneath a dark hoodie, disheveled hair sticks out at all angles, casting shadows over bloodshot eyes with bags just below. His muscles are poised for battle despite his soothing speech. And while his eyebrows pinch together, his jaw ticks along with the seconds, drawing this out that much longer.

  An entire war wages in his every fiber as he stands before me but I’m not sure with who. He’s as confusing as my own feelings.

  What’s going on here? This isn’t the Beckett I left.

  Just when I think he’s going to stomp away, he closes the distance, slowly lifting his hands back to my face, and I flinch when his thumb traces over the cut. His sharp inhale pierces me to my spot.

  “Who did this?” His whisper is a scream into the void I hold in my heart right now.

  “I’m fine.” I shake my head softly, lowering my voice as well. “It was an accident at work.”

  His eyes flit between mine. “Where have you been?”

  He still hasn’t released my face, or my lip, or my interest. Why is he so concerned all of a sudden?

  “Honestly, I’m surprised you even noticed I was gone. I thought I wasn’t worth your attention.”

  Gaze solely on my mouth again, he lowers his head and on instinct I flinch backward. Beckett’s unpredictable on a good day, today he’s out of his fucking mind. I wasn’t cast aside by the beast himself just to fall back into his ruthless trap.

  He hovers there, saying, “I notice everything about you.” His eyes meet mine again, reminding me to breathe and he asks, “Why did you leave?”

  Under his penetrating stare, I swallow thickly, huffing out, “I needed a break.”

  I need a break.

  “I didn’t like it.”

  Only child syndrome strikes again.

  “That’s not my problem.” But also…what? This is about the complete opposite of what he was saying before I went to stay at Dixon’s. I thought he wanted me gone. I thought he would’ve been celebrating my absence, not pouting again. Was he pouting over me?

  “What about Marc?”

  Finally releasing my lip, his eyes narrow, something unreadable passing them.

  “What about him?”

  “Doesn’t he deserve to know where you were?”

  That’s the weirdest shit I’ve ever heard. Why the hell would Marc, of all people, need to know where I was? My rent is paid up and that’s all either of these two deserve to know.

  “I don’t answer to Marc any more than I answer to the apartment manager. If it affects rent, then maybe, otherwise I don’t see why it’d matter to him where I went.” He said it himself that I’m free to come and go as I please.

  He loosens his hold on my face, his fingertips now brushing my cheekbones like an artist painting a masterpiece with careful strokes and intense focus. The tingle against my skin reminds me of riding a motorcycle for the first time. With the wind teasing my face from the visor being left open, I relished feeling as much of the elements as possible. To be one with nature instead of being boxed up in a metal cage.

  Beckett’s touch is like being freed all over again. Being shown what I’ve been missing. What I suddenly crave more than my next ride.

  “There’s nothing going on between you two? At all?” He watches me carefully.

  “Marc’s easy on the eyes,” my shoulders lift and fall in the same breath, “but that’s it. I don’t sleep with my roommates.”

  The declaration tastes foreign. Like a lie. A lie I’m trying to convince myself along with the beautiful boy standing in front of me.

  Beckett’s gaze drops again just as his lips meet mine.

  Stunned, I freeze in place, my eyes still open and everything. He lazily closes his like he’s cherishing what he sees first. Gentle and sweet, his mouth caresses mine with such care I melt. Melt into him.

  I didn’t think at his size he’d have a gentle bone in his body. I figured his affection would be like a bull in a china shop—clumsy and hurried. Yet, his kiss has a sensitivity I’ve never known. One I never even believed could exist.

  The rawness almost overwhelming, I close my eyes, ready to ride the wave of crazy I must’ve been swept away in.

  Beckett kisses and kisses and kisses, content in bathing my lips in careful touches, never once pushing for more.

  Even as my mind warns of the danger in provoking Beckett—mess with the bull, get the horns—I grow downright impatient. How can pain scare me anymore? I’m fucking choking on it and I’m still pulling air in my lungs. It’s grueling and burns my insides like inhaling salt water but it’s there and it hasn’t killed me yet.

  Gripping my towel, I slip my tongue past my lips, tasting the surprise on his instantly.

  His body stiffens and he pulls back, pinning me with dusky blue eyes. “You’re sure? What about your lip?”

  A smile falls over my face. Such an innocent question from a not so innocent man. On a very long list of troubles plaguing my every waking moment, my lip is the least of my worries. In fact, it doesn’t even register at all, so I nod my head, giving him the permission he’s asking for.

  Ruin me, Beckett. See if I notice.

  Dropping one hand to my ass, he cups and lifts, bringing me onto on my tiptoes in a move that screams greed.

  His.

  His.

  His.

  The towel overlapping at my waist flutters like the butterflies beneath the damp cotton.

  As his lips descend again, they have the perfect sweet/salty combination I’ve only dreamt about. A satisfying blend of give and take, neither of us fighting for dominance like I expected. The men I’ve been with usually struggle to control the pace, rushing to the finish line, but Beckett’s relaxed exploration proves he’s not racing anywhere.

  He tilts his head to get better access, tipping everything on its axis, and my mind swims to stay afloat. This place we’ve ended up, it’s as dangerous as it is safe. In my room, on my terms, but still the most precarious position I could be in—with Beckett at the helm. And yet, my heart beats a steady rhythm, content in having Beckett steer for a while.

  His muscles are flexed against mine in a delicious meeting of bodies when the kiss turns lethal, threatening to consume me in a sweet, sweet demise I’ll enjoy every single minute of.

  A text notification shatters the quiet of the room, of the moment, reminding me the rest of the world still exists. Beckett’s like an eclipse. A syzygy made up of me, him, and everything else. He obscures it all.

  We break apart, catching our breath. Both of us swathed in the same body wash, the smell of secret woodlands swirling around us.

  Breadcrumbs. He sprinkles them in his wake without even meaning to and the more breadcrumbs Beckett leaves, the harder it is to resist following them back into the forest I desperately want to get lo
st in again.

  “Shit.” My forehead pressed to his, I say, “I gotta go.”

  He cranes his neck to look at me. “I’ll pay you to stay here.”

  Ripping myself from his grasp, I skirt around him to grab my phone all the while clutching my rumpled towel to my important parts.

  “Just what every woman wants to hear. That she can be bought.”

  I type out a quick reply to Cynthia’s text asking if I need a ride.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I don’t want you to leave yet. Every time you walk away it feels like you won’t come back. I, um, I hate that feeling.”

  Huh? Our last encounter the guy practically stuffed me in a box with enough postage to ship international but now he doesn’t like it when I leave? I can’t catch up with him and I’ve never had an issue keeping speed before.

  I finger my clean uniform in my top drawer, studying him.

  “For everyone or just me?”

  Beckett flips his hood back up that fell sometime during our kiss.

  “Forget it. Do you need me to drop you off at work?”

  Mask back in place, Beckett grimly walks to my doorway.

  My neck aches from the whiplash as I bat his offer away. “I’ve got it covered.” Dixon’s car is as light as a feather and skims across the water like one, too. My nerves kick start with the promise of driving it some more in the rain. I need…something to look forward to. Anything.

  Still hesitating at the threshold, Beckett asks, “Aye, if you were in trouble, would you tell me?”

  “I am the trouble, remember?”

  My wink is thrown in a dumpster and set on fire. He is literally no fun.

  “That old fuckwad didn’t do that to your lip, did he?”

  “Vernon? No, he’s not that stupid.” Rude AF but not stupid.

  His gaze runs the length of my doorjamb, rubbing the smooth wood and I grimace, remembering how shattered his is in comparison.

  “What’s his problem with you anyway?”

  Sighing, I slide on a pair of underwear under my towel, careful not to flash Beckett.