Wreck Me (Nova #4)

by Jessica Sorensen

  “See you at the party, if not sooner.” Charissa waggles her fingers at me as I lock up the register. “And don’t forget that bikini’s aren’t optional.”

  I plaster on a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, that ain’t happening.”

  She pulls a face as she slips her hoodie over her dress. “Whatever. Just show up, ready to have fun. No bailing out.”

  “I promised I would.” I put the clean glass down below the register then flip off all the lights except for the front ones near the window and the door.

  “You always promise you will,” she reminds me, zipping up her hoodie. “But you always bail out early, either because of work, Mason, school, or something else.”

  “That’s because I’m responsible.”

  “Well, it’s your birthday party, so you get exclusive rights to be irresponsible for one night.”

  “That’s not how it works. But I’ll try my damn hardest to have fun this time. I’ll even pinkie swear on it.”

  She grins as she walks up to me with her pinkie up. We hitch fingers and then laugh as we pull away.

  “I’ll see you later, okay?” She starts toward the back door, but briefly pauses before she enters the hallway. “Have fun, Avery.”

  I figure she’s referring to the party again and don’t think much of it. I reach under the counter for my purse, and when I stand back upright, Tristan is on the other side of the bar, appearing happy to see me.

  “Hey. So I was thinking I could walk you out to your car.” He rests his elbows on the counter as I sling my purse handle over my shoulder. “I have to wait for Nova to pick me up anyway. She just texted me to say she’s running a few minutes late.”

  “Actually, I’m taking the bus,” I tell him as I dig around in my purse for my bus pass.

  “The bus? Why? Where’s your car?”

  I find my bus pass beneath a sticky piece of candy and a toy car Mason must have put inside there. “A… friend is using it,” I lie, having no idea why. I could just tell him about Jax, that he’s my brother who lives with me, but I’ve already told Tristan so much, more than a lot of people.

  “Friend?” he questions or more like accuses. “Hmm...”

  I round the corner of the bar and head for the main door. “Hmm, what? What are you implying, Tristan?”

  He strides after me, his long legs easily keeping up. “I was just wondering if this friend is a friend like me.”

  “No,” I reply without so much as a single thought to what I’m saying. Then I shake my head, flatten my hand against the door, and shove it open, reaching back inside to turn off the last of the lights before walking out into the night.

  The crescent moon beams vividly beside the stars that seem to glitter brighter than they have before, as if they’re trying to tell me something. Just across the vacant parking lot near the corner of the street is where the bus stop is. It’s not far, but the inadequate lighting makes me edgy.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?” I skim the parking lot for any sign that Conner could be lurking out there somewhere. I haven’t seen or heard from him since the night he banged on the door of my home. But unless he’s behind bars, I never feel safe. “What time did Benny schedule you for?”

  “Nine.” He checks for messages on his phone. “So how long of a bus ride is it?”

  “Like forty-five minutes.”

  “You want a ride?” The pale glow of the screen lights up his face as he reads a text, then his fingers move as he responds to it.

  “No, I’m okay.” I drag the edge of the bus pass across the palm of my hand, feeling anxious for some reason. “It’s late, and I don’t want Nova to have to drive fifteen miles out of the way.”

  “She won’t care,” he promises, putting his phone away. “She’s that way, all do-gooder and everything.”

  “I can kind of tell. And, really, it’s fine. I ride the bus all the time.”

  “Avery, just let me help. For getting me the job.”

  “You don’t owe me anything for doing that. I like helping you.”

  “I know you do.” The concept seems to acutely puzzle him. “But I want to help you, too, not just take like I used to in the past.”

  I dither, about to accept his offer because, honestly, I really despise riding the bus, when I notice a familiar car turning off the road and into the parking lot. I remember the day Conner bought the piece of shit and how pissed off I was because we didn’t need a second car, especially one that broke down every two seconds. And how he got the money to pay for it made the whole thing even worse.

  Two years later, the damn thing still looks like a piece of shit with its mismatching doors, a dented in hood, and an engine that backfires as the car bounces over a speed bump.

  “Shit.” I skitter back toward the door. “I don’t want to fucking deal with this right now.”

  “Deal with what?” Tristan assesses my expression then tracks my line of vision to the car. “Wait, is that—”

  I snatch hold of Tristan’s hand and haul him back with me as I hurry inside The Vibe. Darkness blankets the bar, but I don’t bother turning the lights on. I drop my purse to the floor, race to the counter, and grab the keys from the drawer near the register. Then I run back for the door, stumbling over a barstool in the process.

  “Jesus, Avery,” Tristan says in horror as I limp the rest of the way there. “Are you okay?”

  I fumble to get the key in the lock, only breathing again when I hear the deadbolt click. Panting, I stare out the door as the car stops in front of the building, backfiring again. The windows are rolled down and the music is cranked up so loudly the window to the side of me vibrates.

  “Just go away. Just go away,” I chant under my breath.

  The driver’s side door swings open and then Conner climbs out. He has a cigarette between his lips, is wearing a plaid shirt over a white tank top, and his hair is cropped short. He looks almost like he did toward the end of our marriage except he might be a little bit heavier now. What that means, I have no clue, nor do I care.

  My heart slams agonizingly against the inside of my chest as Conner tips his head back and looks up at the neon sign on top of The Vibe. He shuts the door then drops the cigarette to the ground and starts around the car.

  “Please get back in your car. Please. Please. Please,” I murmur, balling my hands into fists as I begin to shake and shiver.

  Tristan suddenly places a hand on my shoulder. Not only do I feel the warmth and calmness, but I drown in it.

  “Avery,” Tristan utters softly, his fingers drawing a delicate path up and down my arm. “God, you’re shivering.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, like it somehow situation better. My fear of my ex-husband is humiliating, way more than being up on a bar, dancing in front of people.

  “Don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault. Nothing he does is your fault.” His hand glides up to my shoulder, and he gently pulls on me, trying to draw me away from the window. “And he can’t get in here, so let’s just go back to the bar and wait until he leaves.”

  “I need to call the police,” I mumble as Conner turns away from the building and ducks his head to say something to a guy sitting in the passenger seat. “He’s breaking his restraining order again.”

  Tristan begins tracing soothing circles on the nape of my neck as he steers me away from the door. “We can do that, but after we get you away from the door.”

  I take one final look at Conner then tear my attention away from him. Not daring to meet Tristan’s gaze, I wiggle my arm from his grasp and scurry behind the bar while retrieving my phone from my purse.

  “Can you go tell Benny what’s up?” I ask as I dial the police. “I want him to know what’s going on.”

  Tristan doesn’t say anything, but I hear him retreat toward the stairway to Benny’s office. I bite my thumbnail as I quickly tell the operator what’s going on, and she says she’ll send someone over.

  By the time I hang up, Tristan has returned.


  “He’ll be down in a second,” he says, pointing over his shoulder at the hallway. “He went to set the alarm and check all the doors.”

  I nod, clutching my phone as I pace the floor, listening for yelling, the sounds of glass breaking, threats. However, it remains quiet—too quiet.

  “Hey.” Tristan circles around to the back of the bar and obstructs my path, causing me to almost run into him. When I slam to a halt, he places his hand over mine and guides my thumb away from my mouth, putting an end to the nail biting. “Everything’s going to be okay, Avery. He can’t hurt you anymore. And the police will be here soon.”

  I almost laugh. “The police were at my house the other night, and they couldn’t catch him. And even if they did, what would happen? Another short time in jail, if that, then he’d be out, tormenting me again.”

  “Wait, he was at your house the other night?” Tristan asks, shocked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  A hollow laugh leaves my lips. “Because he’s my problem, not yours. You should just walk away now. Go out the back door and don’t get involved in this.”

  “I’m already involved,” he says resolutely. “In fact, I got involved three months ago, so I’m not backing out now.”

  “Tristan, I…” I have no idea what to say to him. Even Jax has never gotten involved like Tristan did that night he stepped in.

  For the strangest moment, I feel safe with Conner just yards away, and I have no idea what to do with that. Safeness has never been something that’s come easily to me. After my father left, I felt afraid for years while living with my mother. Then Conner came into my life, and for a second, everything felt all right, but it was ephemeral, an illusion.

  Could this be another illusion?

  Or is it different?

  How can I tell?

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Tristan tells me then pulls over a chair and pats the seat. “Now, sit down and let’s talk.”

  “Talk?” I question, eyeballing the chair with wariness. “About what?”

  Tristan sighs as he steps around me and gently sets his hands on my shoulders. Then he steers me toward the chair and lightly pushes me down until I’m sitting. “About anything you want.” He takes a seat on the floor in front of the chair.

  “I can’t think of anything right now,” I mutter, my gaze darting to the front door when I hear a sharp bang.

  “How about your birthday? Other than the super awesome beach party we’re going to, what else are you doing?”

  “Um, having cake and ice cream with the family.” I can’t detach my gaze from the door, deadly afraid that at any moment Conner is going to come storming inside. “And then dinner. We always do dinner… it’s a tradition.”

  “That sounds like fun. It’s been a while since I’ve done the whole cake and ice cream thing.”

  “I kind of have a sweet tooth,” I say, nearly lurching out of the chair when I hear Conner shout my name.

  “Yeah, I remember the cupcakes.” His voice gets swallowed up by Conner’s yelling.

  I grip the sides of the chair, my pulse erratic, my breathing shallow.

  “Avery.”

  Oh, my God, he’s going to kill me.

  Flames.

  Fire.

  Pain.

  I just want it to be over.

  “Avery.”

  When Tristan’s fingers graze my chin, the contact jerks me back to him. I realize he’s been saying my name over Conner’s screams.

  “Relax,” Tristan says as he kneels up in front of me. “He’s not getting to you, even if he gets inside.”

  “You don’t know how violent he is,” I whisper as tears sting my eyes. I suck the waterworks back, not wanting to show Tristan my weaknesses. But then I realize he’s already seen some of them, so I let the tears fall.

  “Avery.” The way he says my name, in a solemn whisper, floods my body warmth and erases my fear. The heat only surges greater when he reaches up and begins wiping the tears from my cheeks with his fingertips.

  I’ve never had a guy do this for me before. Usually, they were the ones causing the tears. And it’s been so long since someone has taken care of me… so ridiculously long that I have no idea how to react.

  “Avery.” This time, my name comes out in a husky tone.

  I realize I’m leaning toward him. I could stop myself—stop what I’m about to do. There’s plenty of time to stop, but I find myself craving the distraction from the banging and yelling going on out front. Wanting the kiss, just wanting it. Plain and simple. It might be the worst timing in the world, but I’ve had perfectly timed kisses before and that got me nothing other than pain and heartache.

  Tristan appears to not be as convinced as I am, because he starts to lean away. Before he can make it too far, I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him toward me again. That’s all it takes for his restraint to evaporate.

  The moment our lips connect, I realize just how much I’ve been lying to myself. The kiss is anything but a friend kiss. It has fire. Passion. Heat. It has everything, including the magic ability to erase the pain inside me, to stop my scars from burning each time Conner shouts out my name.

  Conner disappears, vanishes somewhere between the first sweep of our tongues and the sound of my whimper as Tristan nibbles at my lip. He rests his hand just under my breast, and my body arches as my nipples harden beneath my shirt.

  Good God. I’m coming undone from a simple touch.

  Starved.

  I am starved.

  For him.

  “We should probably stop this,” he breathes against my mouth as I struggle to get oxygen in my lungs.

  Stop?

  No, please, no.

  Fuck the rules.

  Fuck everything.

  I respond by scooting forward in the chair and opening my legs so he’s between them. He moans in response, his fingers gliding up my thighs. I tense as his hands arrive at the bottom of my shorts. I worry he’s going to take this farther than I want to. But instead of trying to feel me up, his fingers delve down into my flesh. With one swift movement, his hands slide up to my hips, and he desperately pulls me closer. Our tongues tangle, slow and sensual as our hands explore each other’s bodies.

  I grip at his shoulders, pulling him closer, refusing to listen to that inner voice screaming at me to stop this. That I’ve crossed the point of no return with this friendship and there’s no going back. That I need to be able to go back. That I don’t want this, at least not under the circumstances.

  Before I can respond to my thoughts, Tristan pulls away. His eyes are glazed over, his pupils massive in the darkness covering the bar, his breathing ragged.

  “I think I hear sirens,” he whispers, tracing the pad of his thumb back and forth across my bottom lip, mesmerized by my mouth.

  My chest rapidly rises and falls as I work to catch my breath. “Me, too.”

  “You’ll be safe soon,” he promises, still staring at my mouth as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the universe.

  “Good,” I whisper back in a hoarse voice.

  What I really want to say is I already feel safe.

  Because of you.

  Chapter 26

  I feel… different.

  Tristan

  It took a lot of restraint not to walk out that door and beat Conner’s ass. The only thing that stopped me was the horrified look on Avery’s face. She was one step away from losing it, and I needed to be there to make her stay calm, feel safe.

  Then the kiss happened.

  The most amazing, terrifying, and poorly timed kiss ever. One I had to end, otherwise I’m not sure I’d be able to ever stop. I needed things not to go that far. Avery needed things not to go that far, whether she realized it or not. And just like that, I realize I’ve become that guy—the good kind that doesn’t put his needs first.

  What the hell?

  How did that happen?

  I’m not supposed to be good. I’m supposed to be bad. Just lik
e I’ve always been told I was. The screw up. The disappointment. The loser. Junkie. No good bastard.