Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  “I’m here to support you while you work on healing and moving on, but I’m a full disclosure type of guy. Some of the things I’m going to say are going to upset you, but I want you to know that’s not my intention. I’m not going to walk on eggshells around you. It won’t do either of us any good.”

  “Hell of a preamble there, Bryson. Is this where you yell surprise and push me out of the truck into the middle of the crowd all sink or swim like?”

  I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t give in to my attempt at distraction. Not in a playing mood.

  “If you don’t want people to treat you like glass, you have to stop acting like glass. Getting out this evening is the first step. Take this off,” he says, reaching over and pulling the hood from my head. “Sit up and be strong.”

  “I don’t feel strong,” I tell him, keeping my eyes on him and refusing to look out at the people only a few feet away. My skin burns from their stares, from their judgment.

  He reaches over and takes my hands, resting them on my thigh. “Pretend until you do.”

  “Fake it ‘til I make it?” He nods as I look out at the small groups of people. “I can do that.”

  As we pull up a couple feet over the next fifteen minutes, I realize no one is looking in our direction, and I’m thankful for the dark tint of Bryson’s truck windows.

  “That’s all you’re going to eat?” he asks, angling his head toward my large fry and chocolate chip cookie.

  “No judging,” I chastise. “You don’t see me asking about the three meals you ordered.”

  His smile gleams at me. “I got one of those for you. I know you’ll get hungry, eventually.”

  We drive around town for half an hour, eating in companionable silence before I grow weary and wonder if he’s being quiet as a way to get me to talk. If he is, it’s working.

  “Just gonna drive around all night? You have class in the morning,” I say, as if he’s not aware of his own schedule.

  “We can head to Wal-Mart. Get a little grocery shopping done. I ate all the lunch meat,” he says as we pull up to the same red light we’ve seen a half dozen times already.

  I shake my head, still looking out the window. “I don’t want to be around people.”

  “Okay,” he says, simple as that.

  “Hold on. You ate all the lunch meat? There was over half a pack left.”

  He gives me a mischievous grin. “Growing boy, remember?”

  I cringe, thinking about my comment earlier. He’s caught me staring at his chiseled body more than once and seems to remember every reaction and word I say. A man who pays attention even when you don’t want him to is a novelty.

  I lift the straw to my diet soda to my mouth, finding it empty as the echo of my futile suction rings in the cab of the truck.

  “Here,” he says, holding his chocolate shake toward me. “You can suck on mine.”

  I feign disgust but feel my lips twitch as I look at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  His eyes glass over for a second. “More than I could ever verbalize.”

  I hate the serious sexual direction our conversation has veered toward, even more so when my body responds to his suggestion.

  “I’m not Simone,” I say, turning my attention back to the window.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone has changed as well, marked with mild irritation.

  “It means,” I say, my gaze shifting back to look him in the eye, “I’m not going to be sucking you off in the shower anytime soon.”

  The glint in his eye is the last thing I expect. “Not anytime soon, but someday?”

  “You’re incorrigible, Bryson.” I shake my head and pull my eyes from him, but the twitch in my lips is now a full-blown smile.

  “I am not. I’m just a man who goes after what he wants, and I’ve got my eyes set on you, Liv.”

  The truck begins to roll forward once more. “So, I’m a challenge then.”

  It’s not a question, he’s made his intent very clear. I’m just not sure of his end game.

  “Oh, you’re challenging,” he says with a quick laugh, “but you’re not a plaything, beautiful.”

  I stew in the silence that falls over the truck for a long while before looking back at him. “Is this where you claim you can see us growing old together? That I’m the most special girl in the world? That, even depressed and standoffish, being around me is the highlight of your day?” I hate the sarcastic tone in my voice, but I’m not a fan of being placated or dished empty, meaningless promises. I’ve had my fair share of those.

  He shakes his head, calming my nerves a bit. Pulling into a park, he cuts the engine to the truck and turns to face me. “But only because you’re not ready to hear it yet.”

  “What is this place?” I ask, thirty minutes after sitting in complete silence.

  “A dog park,” he explains. “I found it on one of my morning runs. People get up pretty early to run off their animals’ energy before leaving them alone for the day.”

  I beam as the first car pulls in and the owner leads a large collie to the fenced in area.

  “You like dogs?” Bryson asks, noticing my smile.

  “Love them,” I tell him, never taking my eyes from the playful pup.

  “We should get a dog.” That simple. He notices I like something, so he feels like I should just have it.

  “Dogs have to be walked.”

  “Good thing your legs work then, huh?” His look is a challenge, an ultimatum of sorts.

  I shake my head and turn my attention back to the park, noticing several more people have shown up with their beloved dogs.

  “They’re here so early,” I say as the sun puts off the first light of morning. “Too early for me.”

  Bryson’s hand brushes across mine again. “How many early mornings and sleepless nights did you have when Duncan was sick?”

  “Too many,” I whisper without meeting his eyes. A tear falls down my cheek. “Not enough.”

  His thumb sweeps the tear from my chin. “We do what we have to for the things—the people we love. It’s a sacrifice, but one we’ll gladly make if it makes someone smile. It shows them we’re invested in their happiness.”

  “True,” I agree.

  Silence fills the cab as I look down at the hand he’s stroking. The small band of diamonds on my finger catches my attention.

  “I don’t know how to live in a world where he no longer exists.”

  “None of that sad stuff, Liv. Look at me,” he says, lifting my chin. “You get better, stronger, one day at a time, but you have to keep moving forward.”

  That’s so much easier said than done, but I can admit I haven’t even thought about trying until now. Bryson gives me hope. Someone willing to stick around and fight with me may be what I need.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t correct you when you assumed he was just away. It was easier after the way you looked at me.”

  “How did I look at you?” he whispers in my ear, having scooted closer.

  I raise my head and catch his eyes with mine. “The same way I look at you.”

  “Oh, beautiful,” he says, resting his forehead against mine, his warm breath gusting across my lips. “I sure hope I don’t lick my lips as often as you do.”

  “Jackass.” I slap his chest and pull my head from his. I love how he can make a serious conversation light and playful. It’s exactly what I need since I’m warring internally over my emotions.

  “Want to play with some dogs?” he asks, opening his door.

  “Of course,” I answer, climbing out behind him.

  24

  Bryson

  “You forgot, didn’t you?” Confusion runs across my face when I answer the door and find Emerson standing on the other side.

  “No?” Running my hand over my face isn’t helping to ring any bells.

  “Is that a question?” she huffs, kicking out her foot, her hand on her hip.

  I raise an eyebrow at her ridiculous po
se. I’m in no mood for Diva Emerson today.

  “It’s Labor Day weekend, Bryson. We scheduled this.”

  I nod and let her step past me into the apartment. What she’s saying sounds vaguely familiar. “I haven’t slept since yesterday morning, Emmy. Not really firing on all cylinders here.”

  I rub at my tired eyes, attempting to force them to wake up, but the urge to still close them is strong. Being up all last night, and most of today, comforting Olivia has exhausted me. I know she’s tired as well, but we’ve opted to hang out on the couch and spend time together versus splitting into our separate rooms to sleep.

  “I guess that means you haven’t changed your sheets yet,” she sighs as I close the door.

  Of course, that’s the first thing she would think of. “I just got back from class. I was going to change them.”

  “Doubtful,” she says, calling me out on my lie. “You didn’t even remember I was coming. That gorgeous roommate of yours keeping you up all night? I’m not sleeping on sheets you’ve been banging her on, Bry. I refuse.”

  “Will you keep your damn voice down?” I whisper-hiss.

  I hang my head as we walk into the living room where Olivia is curled up on the couch. I never regret seeing my sister, but I had just settled in beside Olivia and her head was on my shoulder. It’s not often she initiates contact, and Emerson showing up has ruined that. I can’t help the irritation beginning to seep into me.

  Looking at Olivia, my eyes beg for forgiveness at Emerson’s brashness. As much as Emerson’s feminine shit has rubbed off on me, her masculine side is much bigger. She can hang with the guys and do laps around them on a bad day.

  Embarrassment washes over Olivia’s face at hearing my sister’s words. I cringe, knowing she’s going to invert on herself again because of it.

  “I…” Olivia pauses as she gets up off the couch, the blanket we were about to share wrapped all the way around her body, covering up the tank top and tiny shorts she’s wearing—covering up the warm skin that was against me only moments ago.

  “We don’t… I mean, we haven’t...” Her head tucks against her chest, blatantly refusing to make further eye contact with either of us.

  If Emerson were my brother, I’d smack her upside her damn head. My stomach falls as I watch Olivia scurry to her room. Seeing her waddling down the hallway like a penguin wrapped in that blanket would almost be comical if my frustration level wasn’t through the roof.

  “Damn it,” Emerson says on a sigh when Olivia’s door clicks shut. She spins on her heel and glares at me. “You could’ve told me she was sitting in the damn living room!”

  “You didn’t give me time! You just barged in here and started running your damn mouth!” I hate nothing more than raising my voice to my sister, but this time, it’s warranted. I drag my hands through my hair to keep them from wrapping around her thin neck.

  “She doesn’t have to be so touchy either. It’s a simple thing to clear up.” It’s just like Emerson to turn defensive when her actions cause someone else discomfort.

  “We need to go, now,” I hiss, grabbing her arm and urging her toward the door.

  “Stop!” she says, pulling away from my grasp. A twinge of guilt hits my gut when she reaches up to rub the soreness I just caused on her arm. “I just got here.”

  “I’m hungry,” I lie. “Let’s go.”

  Once we’re standing outside the door, I turn to her. “I forgot my keys. Be right back. Oh, and, Emerson? You can hear every single word said in that apartment, no matter where the people are. Watch what you say, at all times.”

  I feel like an ass, but I lock the door, leaving my twin standing outside while I head back inside and knock on Olivia’s door. It goes unanswered, just like I knew it would, but I couldn’t leave without trying.

  I watch with an odd happiness at the tears falling from my sister’s eyes. No matter how brash she can be, her empathy for others knows no bounds. Normally tears would make me uncomfortable, and I’d do anything in my power to make her smile again, but I know she needs to realize how tentative Olivia’s moods are, how her words affect others. The tears rolling down her cheeks are evidence that she may think before she speaks next time there’s even a remote chance Olivia could hear.

  “That poor girl,” she sobs as the video ends.

  During the ride over, I filled in Emerson on what Olivia has been through because I wanted to prevent her from saying something that could trigger a depressive mood. I also told her everything Olivia and I have been through up to now—the video chats, the lies of omission. It wasn’t my intention to actually show Emerson the video—I didn’t want to put her through that—but after mentioning it and talking about Olivia, she insisted.

  “She’s been through a lot,” I concede.

  “You like her. I could tell the second I was in the room with both of you. The change in atmosphere was damn near palpable.” My ever-observant sister cuts to the chase as usual.

  “She’s incredible,” I admit.

  “She’s broken, Bryson. Right? I mean, who wouldn’t be? She still watches their recorded videos… she can’t let him go.”

  I gauge my words carefully, wavering between telling my sister to fuck off and admitting the truth as she pulls a napkin from the dispenser on the diner table and tries to fix her smeared makeup.

  “He’s a part of her, Emerson. I’d never ask her to give up on that. Expecting her to forget something so profound is unreasonable. He’s part of her past.” My eyes plead with her to understand and the softness in which my words flow reveal a devotion to how serious I’ve become about the woman I share an apartment with. I lower my head to my hands, the exhaustion from earlier taking hold once more. If thinking about all of this drains me, I can’t imagine what it does to Olivia.

  “And what?” she says, staring across the table. “You want to be her future? Bryson, from what you told me, she wants to wallow in her grief until it fully consumes her.”

  I raise my head, meeting my sister’s eyes. “Not forever, Emmy. I see sparks of life, moments where she’s happy and not miserable about her loss. I see hope in her eyes sometimes.”

  I don’t even attempt to hide my emotions from her. I’m an open book as she looks at me, searching for a reason to continue trying to convince me to let it go—to give up on pursuing Olivia.

  “And that’s enough for you?” She sounds doubtful, but it’s to be expected. Emerson is even less open to love than I am—was.

  “For now? Yes. Later on, down the road…” I scrub my hands over my face, not wanting the fingers of doubt to creep in. “Can you imagine being loved by someone as much as she loves Duncan? If I could have a fraction of that, I’d be a very happy man.”

  “Love? Seriously, Bry? You’ve known this chick for a couple weeks and you’re already talking about love? Did you get hit in the head with a ball at practice?” she asks, gawking at me like I’ve grown three heads.

  “I’m not saying I love her, Emmy. Shit, you’re so oblivious sometimes. I’m trying to tell you when she loves, she loves hard, and that would be something I’m interested in.”

  “You want to love her?”

  “I’m saying, I can see myself loving her but being loved by her would be beyond amazing.” A faint smile crosses my face at just the idea of it.

  “You have one tough uphill battle, brother. I hope you’re up for it.”

  “Me too,” I mutter as the waitress comes to the table to drop our orders off.

  I know then and there, I’m willing to do something I’ve never done before. If chasing her, fighting for her, and proving to her that I will to go the extra mile to earn a fraction of that love is what I need to do, then I’ll do every single bit of it with a smile on my face.

  “I know you heard me when I said I was giving up alcohol this weekend,” Emerson complains as we pull up to the house party that’s looking more like a block party right now.

  “You wanted to hang out this weekend. This is what I had pl
anned. You don’t have to drink.” I cut my eyes to her as I put the truck in park and open my door.

  “Booze and boys? Bryson, you know I can’t turn those down,” she whispers, as if her confession is a secret, disappointment clear as day in her voice.

  “We can leave,” I say as I climb back into the truck.

  Reaching out a hand, she grasps my arm. “Who is that?”

  I follow her finger and whip back around while shaking my head. “No. Not a chance. Rule number one—no hooking up with my teammates, Emmy. Hard limit, seriously.”

  “He’s a ballplayer?” she coos, making my stomach turn.

  “Liam Ashford isn’t someone you need to even talk to. I hear he can charm the panties off a nun.” Looking over, I see her brow furrow at my words. I’ve done my due diligence by warning her. Emerson has a bad taste in her mouth for playboys. It’s the reason she left La Grande the same time I did.

  “Good thing I’m not wearing panties,” she says absently, never taking her eyes off my teammate.

  “What the fuck, Emmy?” I say as I scrunch my nose, flabbergasted. “Don’t say that type of shit around me, and don’t even think about it. I already want to throat punch him and he hasn’t even met you yet.”

  She finally pulls her eyes off Liam to look over at me. “You want me to be supportive of your grandiose dreams of Olivia, the least you can do is let me have a little fun.”

  I shake my head. “Not the same. He’s a dog. I’m the one left on this campus after you leave and the last thing I need is him bragging to our team about how he bagged my fucking sister.”

  She doesn’t look convinced, and I hate when she gets that determined gleam in her eyes. I never should’ve told her to stay away. Now she’ll want him even more just because I did. She may be over bad boys and players, but forbidden fruit is a whole other story.

  “Besides,” I add, “he has crabs.”

  “Has or had?” I glare at her as the truth about the Deltas hits me in the chest. Who is this woman and what has she done with my sister?