by L A Cotton
“The owner is a good guy; his staff are good guys, and I told them to keep an eye on her. I thought she’d be safe, but now I’m not so sure. It’s like she doesn’t care. Last Thursday, I managed to drag her out before she got hurt. She crashed, and I drove her home, but she was there Tuesday too, and last night, she went alone. I swear I didn’t think she would. I told her I wouldn’t be there.”
The more he talked, the more I wanted to punch something, preferably his face. He took Becca—my Becca—to a bar on the outskirts of town and what? Hoped she’d make some friends? Let loose a little? It was exactly the kind of place she didn’t need to be—full of drunken idiots, looking to let loose and work off their stress.
When I didn’t speak, Malachi let out a long breath. “It was a mistake, okay? I get that now. I thought she could do with a place to go where no one knew her. She’s hurting, Porter. She’s hiding it well, but underneath, she’s barely holding on.”
He thought I didn’t know that? Of course, I knew it. I saw it every time I looked at her. It was the reason that I’d used Eli against her, in hopes of trying to get her to lower her guard and forgive me.
“Did you tell her not to go back there?”
He cocked his eyebrow. “You think she’d listen?”
No. I didn’t. Becca was determined to shut everyone out and do things on her own. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll handle it.”
“How?”
My eyes narrowed, and his lips tugged up in a small smile. “Okay, whatever you say. It wouldn’t surprise me if she shows up Sunday.”
I nodded, and he started to walk off, but I called, “Listen, I get it. I do. And thanks, yeah? She needs people looking out for her.” She would fight me at every turn, but maybe she related to something in Malachi. I didn’t like it—hell, I couldn’t stand the thought of her turning to someone who wasn’t me—but Becca hadn’t grown up in Credence.
Malachi tipped his chin and disappeared around the corner, but I hung back. I needed a minute. Leaning back, I pressed one boot against the brick wall and tilted my head up, letting the cool air wash over me. I was used to being alone. And until Becca, I’d preferred it that way. Keeping people at arm’s length saved me from more disappointment. But it was too late now. Becca was in my head and under my skin. So I would give her space and time to come around because I couldn’t lose her.
I wouldn’t.
~
She’s there.
I pocketed my cell phone and watched Mom and Eli for another couple of minutes. All week, she’d been trying. I didn’t know whether it was the aftermath of finding Becca in the house watching Eli, the shame of having me pick her up from the seedy motel, or not being there to get Eli from pre-K, but Mom was trying.
“Mom,” I said, and she looked up from the floor where she was playing blocks with Eli, who was bathed and already in his pajamas. “Can we talk?”
She smiled, whispering something to my brother, and came over to me. “What is it?”
“I need to go out for a little while. Are you going to be okay putting him to bed?” My eyes bore into hers, asking a silent question.
“Evan, I’m his mother. I think I’m capable of putting him to bed.”
“Yeah, well, Mellie isn’t around to check in on you both. If it’s going to be a problem, I can stay.”
“Go. Ten more minutes and then it’s bedtime. I have an early shift at the store tomorrow, so I’ll be hitting the sack early myself.”
Her mood swings were exhausting, but reaching her latest lows had flipped a switch. I didn’t expect it to last long, but I’d take it.
“Eli,” I called over to him. “I’m going out, but I’ll be back later, okay? And I’ll be here in the morning to take you to pre-K.”
“Okay,” he replied, not even looking up from his construction.
“I have my cell. Any problems, you call me.”
“Evan.” Mom laid her hand on my arm. “I’ve got this. I know we need to pull together while Mellie’s out of town, so I’m trying. I’m going to try.”
“Okay.” I glanced at her and Eli, unsure if I was doing the right thing. Before I knew it, I strolled over to Eli and scooped him up into my arms. “Hey, buddy.”
“Hey, Ev. I’m getting sweepy.” He yawned as if on cue.
“I know, bud. Listen, I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours. Mellie is out of town, remember?” He nodded. “So if you need anything, if you wake up and get scared, or need to talk, you call me, okay? My number is on the notepad next to the phone, just like I showed you, okay?”
“I ‘member.” His arms curled around my neck, hugging me tightly, and part of me wanted to stay. To tell Mom we didn’t need her and that I could take care of him. But Eli needed his mom; he needed her to step up, and if I didn’t give her the space to do it, she never would.
“Come on, baby.” Mom took him from me. “Let’s get you tucked in.”
Eli went to her willingly, and I watched her carry him down the hall to his bedroom before I shrugged into my leather jacket and left the house. Locking the door behind me, I kept telling myself it was only a couple of hours.
~
I found her at the bar the second I stepped into Teller’s. It had taken me ten minutes to drive and another five to find somewhere to park. Malachi wasn’t wrong; it pulled the crowds, but I didn’t recognize anyone except Becca. Heat exploded through me at the sight of her dressed in an oversized black sweater that hung low on her shoulders, but it quickly turned to irritation when I saw it was all she was wearing. It dipped over her thighs, giving way to smooth, toned legs and black boots. Fuck. Was she trying to draw attention to herself? She looked at home, seated at the bar, chatting with a tall guy wearing black leather wristbands and gauges in his ears. Since he was a bartender, I tried to remember Malachi’s words about Teller’s staff being good guys and ignore my bolt of jealousy. They were only talking.
The room was a big rectangle with a stage at one end and a long bar at the other. Down one side was a row of wooden booths with dirty brown leather seats. It reminded me of a huge barn—all wooden rafters and paneling—but instead of farming tools, rock memorabilia decorated the walls. Posters, framed records, and newspaper cuttings, even the odd signed guitar adorned every inch of the space. Four wooden pillars marked the edges of what I assumed was a dancefloor, but it was impossible to tell with the sheer amount of bodies crammed into the space. Dudes rocking Mohawks, piercings in every visible piece of facial skin. Girls with brightly colored hair and tattoos that would give Scarlett a run for her money huddled in groups, getting as close to the stage as possible. When I looked back over at Becca, she had spun her stool out to face the stage as if she was a regular and that seat was saved especially for her. At least she wasn’t in the thick of it tonight like Malachi said she was on Thursday. I didn’t like the idea of her in there among all those guys at all.
I stayed close to the perimeter, blending into the background. It gave me the perfect vantage point to watch her if she moved into the crowd gathering in front of the stage where four guys were running their final sound check. A crackle of anticipation rippled through the room as the lights dimmed and a spotlight lit center stage. I liked music as much as the next guy, but I’d never really had time for listening to live music. But when the opening bars of the first song played, I found myself tapping my hand against my leg. They were good; tight beats and the vocalist had a smooth voice that complemented their sound. Glancing back at the bar, I cursed under my breath. I’d taken my eyes off her for two minutes, and Becca had already disappeared. My eyes roved over the crowd, but it was so busy, and there was so much black and denim, it made it difficult to see.
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d moved to the edge of the main crowd, scanning for any signs of Becca. It was the same moment the band changed tempo. The whole room seemed to explode as a heavy bass pounded out of the speakers. It thrummed through me, spurring the crowd into a frenzy as people started jumping and pumping the a
ir with their fists. A couple of girls crashed into me, embarrassment flashing over their faces as I stepped back to give them space. It was crazy. Guys pounded against one another, yelling along with the lyrics, and even the girls were throwing themselves around like rag dolls. And right in the middle, swamped by guys who towered over her, was Becca. Hands raised above her head, she jumped and swayed and moved with the rest of the room.
My gaze raked down Becca’s body, and I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. Despite her efforts to look tough, she looked so vulnerable. A rose among thorns. A guy shouldered her, and she staggered back. I lunged forward, ready to drag her the hell out of there, but then she spun around, her eyes closed, head thrown back, wearing a wide smile on her face, and I realized Malachi was right—she needed this. In some weird way, she was free out there. But it didn’t change the fact that she would end up hurt. These guys were crazy, and I’d noticed more than one dude leering at her through the hustle and bustle.
I pushed my way farther into the thick of it, earning me a couple of hard glares from guys twice my size. Becca spun again, facing the stage, and I moved behind her, leaving only a sliver of space between us. It was perfect timing because the song ended and the band went straight into something with less base. The sea of faceless people swayed and bobbed their heads in time with the mellow beat. Becca followed them, her shoulders swinging from side to side. Her black sweater hung off one shoulder, revealing a khaki tank top underneath and milky skin just begging to be touched. Without thinking, I slid my arms around her waist and gathered her against me. Her body recoiled, and I felt Becca’s fight instinct kick in, but I held firm, dipping my mouth to her ear. “It’s me,” I whispered.
She relaxed into me and continued moving to the music. I didn’t care that I looked all kinds of awkward because it was the closest Becca had let me get since the night we’d been together. My fingers dug into her hips at the memory, anchoring her to me, but she didn’t move. She didn’t fight me off or give me hell; she just continued to soak up the atmosphere. I didn’t want to push her or be a jerk, but I was a guy, and she was here, pressed up against me, looking all kinds of hot.
Did she feel it too?
The pulse of electricity between us, the spark?
Becca hadn’t been wrong when she’d accused me of using her to forget about all the shit going on in my life, but it was more than that with us. We both knew it, and deep down, I think that was why she was so reluctant to give me a second chance.
We had a shot at something real.
Something messy and ugly and raw—and that terrified her. Hell, it terrified me. Becca hadn’t grown up in a place like Credence, but she’d ended up here for a reason. If she’d just let me in … If she’d trust me with whatever it was she was hiding, I could help. I could be there for her. Maybe that made me a selfish bastard, dragging her into my fucked-up life, but she made breathing easier. She made everything a little bit easier, and I hadn’t expected—or even wanted—it to happen, but I needed her.
I needed her more than she would ever know, so if there was even a tiny chance she would let me back in, I would take it. Starting with right now.
Becca
Adrenaline pulsed through me, swirling with desire. I was drunk on it. Evan was here with his arms firmly around my waist and his solid chest pressed against my back. My eyes closed as I relished the feel of him. But all too quickly, he released me, and a moan of protest slipped from my lips. He moved around me, his gaze darkening as it swept down my body. Evan took my hand, tugging me from the crowd and out of the bar. He didn’t stop until we were hidden away in the shadows around the side of the building.
“Fuck, Becca.” It came out a low growl as he raked a brisk hand over his head. Back and forth as if he was at war with himself. His eyes were filled with longing, but it was mixed with something else. Anger? Frustration?
“Evan, I—” I tugged my sweater down, suddenly feeling exposed.
I wanted to know to what the hell he was doing here. Had Malachi snitched me out to him? But my questions dried on my tongue as Evan stalked toward me until just a sliver of space remained between us.
“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” His breath feathered across my skin, sending shivers racing up my spine. My fingers reached out, curling into his black t-shirt to pull him closer. I hadn’t meant to do it, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice urged me to stop, to think about this, but I was past the point of no return. When his hands looped around my waist in the bar and pulled me flush against his back … I. Was. Done.
One kiss.
I made a silent promise to myself that it would just be one kiss. I would give myself one more kiss. My eyes dropped to his mouth as he hovered only millimeters away from my face. “What do you want, Becca?”
When I didn’t answer, Evan’s lips danced across mine, so softly I almost missed it. But then he was there, pressed hard against me. Everywhere. Strong legs caged me against the wall. His hands traced up my arms, spearing themselves in my hair, as his mouth moved over mine, urgent and demanding. And I kissed him back. With all the frustration and hurt I felt, I kissed him back until we were a blur of ragged breaths and soft moans.
Evan was stronger than I was because he broke away first, touching his head to mine and dragging air into his lungs as if he was barely in control. I felt the change in him—his restraint snapping back into place—but I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to hash out everything that had happened. I just wanted to feel something … anything.
“Becca, I—”
I crushed my lips to his, pushing my tongue into his mouth and smiling to myself when he complied. Evan pressed us harder against the wall until our bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, while his hands traced down my face, finding the neckline of my sweater. His lips followed, tracing a trail of kisses along my collarbone and bare shoulder.
“God, I missed you,” he murmured, his mouth never leaving my skin. My head fell back against the wall with a thud, but I didn’t feel anything other than Evan’s warm, wet kisses. My hands smoothed over his broad shoulders and down his jacket. There were too many layers between us, too many barriers. Desperate fingers skimmed across the waistband of his jeans, dipping underneath his t-shirt. My hand connected with smooth muscle, and Evan sucked in a sharp breath. I smiled again.
Evan was an enigma; quiet and solitary. He didn’t let people in. Yet, purposely or not, he’d pulled me into his world. There was no denying that. And from the way he was touching me and kissing me, I wanted so much to believe that it was real, that the past few weeks hadn’t been all part of some game. But I needed to know the truth … Before we went any further, I needed to know.
“Evan.” I snatched my hands away and cupped his jaw, pulling his face level with mine. “How do you know her?” I couldn’t say her name; it was like poison in my mouth.
His eyes narrowed, the muscle in his jaw tensing. “Becca, don’t do this. Please, not now…”
“I need to know the truth.”
“It’s better if you don’t.” He lowered his head. It stung. Even now—when I was presenting him with the chance to fix things—he couldn’t tell me the truth.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I hissed, unable to control my irritation. “Did you date? Is that it? Was she your first big love and hates anyone who gets close to you?”
“Becca,” Evan’s voice softened, his fingers rubbing soothing circles over my shoulder, but it did little to ease the fire stoked in my chest.
“How did you know she would come after me, Evan?”
He didn’t flinch as his eyes lifted, burning into mine, silently asking me not to push this. But I was done waiting. He either fessed up or let me walk away. That was the only choice here.
“Evan,” I croaked, my voice dry.
“You want to know how I knew?” He reared back, fists clenched at his sides. “I heard, okay? I heard her on the phone to one of her friends talking about the new g
irl transferring from Montecito.”
“And?” I folded my arms over my chest. Waiting.
Evan pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled a sharp breath. “She’s my cousin, okay?”
Cousin?
They were family?
Suddenly, I felt like the idiot in the room. How did I not know this?
“She’s your … your family?”
He grunted out a strained laugh. “Trust me; we are not family.”
What did that even mean?
“I thought you just said—”
“Becca.” Evan closed the space between us and cupped my face in his hands. “Don’t give her power over us. She doesn’t matter, okay? She’s not going to come after you anymore; you just have to trust me. Please, trust me …” His plea hung in the air.
“Take me home,” I demanded, unable to meet his intense gaze.
“Becca, come on—”
“Please, take me home.” I’d already spotted his Impala in the parking lot.
“Okay.” He backed up, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. I brushed past him. I needed space. Being too close to Evan clouded my judgment; that much was obvious from all the kissing and touching.
He unlocked the Impala, and I slid inside, waiting for him get in. Once the key was in the ignition, he curled his hands around the wheel and blew out a shaky breath. “Can we go somewhere?”
“Evan, I ... I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please …” He hesitated. “We should talk.”
“Okay,” I said before I could change my mind. There was still so much left unsaid, and I was too restless to go home. The car roared to life, and Evan pulled out of Teller’s, dust spraying out behind us.
We didn’t speak, too lost in the events of the night, or at least, I was. Evan and Kendall were cousins. They shared the same DNA. How was that even possible? She was so ... so mean, and he was broody, yes, but the way he looked out for Eli and his mom was admirable. I couldn’t imagine Kendall thinking about anyone but herself. My cell phone vibrated in my jean pocket, but I ignored it. It would only be Lilly again or Mom. Or Kendall.