“What are you talking about?” I glance around the backyard in the desperate hope of capturing someone’s attention. No one’s looking our way. We’re in an isolated spot, and the music’s so loud they probably can’t hear a thing.
“What’s the thing with girls and assholes, huh? Please enlighten me. What’s so attractive about heartless pieces of shit? It’s like you enjoy being treated poorly. Why does the nice guy always finish last?”
Fear cripples me.
Ryder obviously has a lot more issues than he lets on. For a second there, I thought he was too squeaky clean and damage-free to be involved in street fighting. Now, I know. The guy’s got problems. Like they all do.
I’m reminded of the words he said to me at the restaurant when a gorgeous girl showed interest in him and he said he had a very specific type. What is his type? The challenge? The broken girl? The one who already loves someone else? The one he can’t have? All of the above? I try to get out of his grasp, but he tightens his hold around me. I wince in pain.
“Ryder, you’re hurting me. Let go!” My shouting seems to pull him out of whatever anger trance he was stuck in. I see it in his eyes. The realization, the regrets. He’s going to let me go. But he’s too late.
“Get your fucking hands off her!”
Someone does it for him.
Haze.
Ryder’s hand leaves my body and he crashes to the ground. Haze is on top of him, pummeling his face with hooks that are so strong it’s a wonder that Ryder’s still conscious. He can’t fight back, all of his attempts unsuccessful.
“Haze, stop!” I scream, but he doesn’t hear me, his sight and common sense destroyed by pure rage. It’s like he becomes this entirely different person when he fights. He’s on autopilot, empty, no feelings, no second thoughts, just instincts.
All I can do is hope that my despair will stop him from beating Kendrick’s fighter to a pulp. Yes, Ryder has issues. Yes, what he did was wrong, but I don’t think he’s a bad guy. I think what just happened has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. I think he’s miserable. And you wouldn’t believe the toll misery can take on someone’s life…
I realize that the commotion has attracted the attention of the mass when I see a thick crowd of teenagers gathering around us.
“Fight, fight, fight!” a wasted jock from school shouts through the air, and the varsity team joins in his chanting. The same guy pulls his phone out of his pocket to record the scene.
This is why I hate social events.
No, this is why I hate people, period.
Students start to spill out of the house, curious to see what was important enough for the jocks to stop drinking. This is getting completely out of control. Ryder manages to get a few punches in, but his face still makes the saying “you should see the other guy” look like it was invented for him.
“Haze, stop, you’re going to kill him!” My begging only increases the crowd’s chanting.
It can’t possibly get any worse than this.
Then, because the guy up there likes to prove me wrong, the definition of worse stumbles out of the house.
Kendrick, Will, and Alex.
I might not always listen to my cousin when he gives me lessons on the street fighting rules—or ever, really—but I remember this one: In the main fighters’ close circle, one’s problem is everyone’s problem.
One’s fight… is everyone’s fight.
“Haze! Please. I’m begging you,” I belt out, blinded by the tears.
That finally seems to be enough to grab his attention.
He hears me and looks up.
Our eyes lock.
Still on top of Ryder, he stops, his white-knuckled fist hanging in the air. The same way I did during the fight at the Downside, I recognize him… He sees the tears in my eyes, and his arm drops to his side. He’s going to stop. He’s going to let Ryder go.
But the guys intervene before he can do so.
Kendrick and Will both pounce on Haze while Alex helps Ryder off the ground. I know they technically don’t have a choice. Haze attacked one of their own, but if they’d seen how Ryder acted, they’d be attacking him, too.
“Guys! Stop it,” I cry again. Haze might be a solid fighter, but it’s four against one. This is inhuman. The very unfair fight quickly turns around as Haze takes Ryder’s place on the ground and the guys kick the hell out of him. It starts with a cut on his eyebrow. Then it’s a cut on his lip. The wounds multiply along with my fears. Haze eventually stops fighting back, grunting in pain as he holds on to his stomach. He can’t take them all.
God, I love that idiot.
I have to do something. Anything. It all happens too fast for the crowd to catch up. Will pulls Haze up by the grasp he has of his collar and aims for the final punch. Haze can barely stand. What I do next will probably not go down as one of my finest moments.
I step right into the chaos.
“Stop!” I’ve never screamed louder.
“Winter, get out of the way!” I hear Kendrick’s voice.
I don’t know how it happens. Who pushes me or how quickly my body hits the ground. All I know is the pain and the panic spreading in my chest when my head hits something.
“What the fuck did you do?” a familiar voice barks.
Then, my senses go numb…
And my eyes close.
23
Stolen Touch
White.
It’s all I can see. At first, when I peel my eyes open, I think I’m in the hospital since the walls are bare and cold, but I quickly realize that I’m wrong. My sight clears up and I glance down at the queen bed under me. I’m in a bedroom. A very empty, untouched, and quiet bedroom.
“Thank God you’re awake.”
My eyes jump to the door that just burst open. Haze’s standing in the doorway, his bruised face and cut lip twisting my heart in my rib cage. His bloodstained T-shirt’s a bit ripped from the fight, and his perfectly messy hair only adds to his roughed-up look. Even like this, he manages to take my breath away.
“How are you feeling?”
“Where are we?” I feel my head with my hand. It hurts so bad.
“In my apartment.” He sits on the edge of the bed.
Since when does Haze have an apartment? How much did I miss while I was locked away in Thomas’s penthouse? I try to sit back up—to demand much-needed answers and clarifications—but fail, my body weighing a million pounds and practically embedding me into the mattress.
“Hey, easy. You hit your head. I’m not letting you move until a doctor looks at you.” He gently pushes me back down. “I called somebody. They’re on their way.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“What happened is you’re crazy, Kingston. What the hell were you thinking stepping into the fight like that? Don’t ever do that again. Not for me.” He flinches at the reminder and runs his fingers along my jaw. His guilty eyes fall to my mouth for a few seconds. I sigh in relief. He’s okay. I did stop the fight, even if it took me almost getting into a freaking coma to do it.
Don’t ever do that again. Not for me.
For who, then, Haze? If not for the goddamn idiot I love more than I thought possible, for who?
“Kendrick pushed you out of the way before Will punched you. You fell and hit your head on a stupid bench.”
So, this is what I have to thank for the pounding in my skull. Hitting my head on a bench. Yep, that’ll do it.
“I’m so sorry I brought you into this.” He takes my fingers and brings them to his mouth. He kisses the back of my hand, and I want to melt at the sweet gesture. Then, because I have the worst timing on earth, a rather evil idea comes to me.
“I’m sorry… Who are you?”
His jaw hangs.
“What? What do you mean? I’m Haze. I’m your boyf—” He stops talking. “Was your boyfriend.”
I appreciate that he’s not lying about our relationship status. He could’ve tried to take advantage of my
“amnesia” to get his way, but he didn’t. I burst out laughing at the look on his face. His shoulders sink with relief as he lets out a disapproving sigh.
“So not funny.”
“Oh come on, it’s a little funny. Admit it.” I grin, the smile on my face eventually rubbing off on his. I laugh quietly and try to sit back up again, only to fail… again. “Since when do you have an apartment?” I glance around the room. It’s barely been lived in. The only pieces of furniture are a bed and a lamp.
“Since my psycho brother slash roommate kidnapped the girl I love and tried to have her killed. Not exactly an ideal living situation, you see?” he teases, barely holding my hand like he’s afraid I’m going to break if he squeezes.
Hearing him refer to me as “the girl he loves” serves as a detonator to the truth I’ve been keeping locked away. It threatens to break through my barriers and the concrete walls I spent days building around my heart.
Why am I not dating him right now?
Why aren’t we back together?
The thought of his incessant secrecy and the images of Bianca drooling all over him seem like distant problems now that he’s looking at me with the world’s worries in his eyes. It’s crazy to me, that Haze Adams can say shocking, inappropriate, scandalous things one minute, then be so sweet and heart-melting the next. He can be this charming, flirtatious, and confident person one second, then completely fall apart if you pull the right strings. But no one gets to see that. No one ever gets close enough to see what’s hiding behind his layers of cockiness.
Except for me.
I’ve seen the damage. I’ve seen the scattered pieces. I’ve seen the mess and I didn’t even blink.
I’m so far gone. I’m too far gone.
“Where are the guys?” Realization finds me. Kendrick would’ve never left me alone with Haze in a situation like this. He begins to answer, but he’s stopped by Will walking through the door with a bunch of bags in his hands.
“I got her something for everything. Stuffed nose, muscular pain, headache, dizziness,” Will says, holding a bottle of pills up to his eyes. He notices me. “Oh, good, you’re awake.”
“It’s just my head that hurts, Will.”
“Well, then, you’ll be prepared for next time.” He shrugs.
“There won’t be a next time. This is never going to happen again.” Haze scowls at Will and stares back at me.
“Says the number one reason for Winter’s life constantly being in danger,” Will taunts under his breath, and Haze tries to shake off his remark, but I can tell it affects him. He already feels guilty. This isn’t helping.
“Where are the guys?”
Discomfort shoots across Will’s face.
“It’s really not that big of a deal, okay?”
“Will, what is it?”
“Well, Kendrick kind of took off. Alex’s out looking for him. Kendrick was super pissed when a witness told him why Haze attacked Ryder, by the way. I think he’s going to kick him out.”
“He took off?” I repeat like there’s no possible way that I heard him correctly.
“Yeah, he freaked out when he saw you on the ground. He’s the one who pushed you so that I wouldn’t punch you. He said it was all his fault and that he had to fix it. Then he left.”
That he had to fix it?
What does he mean by that?
“That’s it? He just left me?”
“Yeah… but I’m here!” Will puts his hands up and smiles.
I offer him a sad smile in return, and he walks out of the room to take a call. I decide not to question Haze’s miraculous access to a doctor at this hour. I know he’d tell me not to sweat it. I have no idea how I’ll even pay for this. This isn’t Canada. Here, health problems mean No big deal. Just sell your house.
“Why did you run?” Haze asks.
“What are you talking about?”
“Earlier, when you saw me with Bianca, you ran. Now, for someone who doesn’t want to be with me, you sure seemed upset.” I catch his smirk. He just wants to hear me say it. He wants me to admit that I was jealous.
“Why did you punch Ryder?” I give him a taste of his own medicine.
“Gee, I don’t know. It’s not like I care about him hurting you or anything.”
“Oh, so you care about me? Tell that to Bianca.”
“I did. Multiple times. Crazy pants just can’t take a hint. If you’d stayed two more minutes, you would have seen me very loudly tell her to fuck off.”
So he rejected her in front of everybody…
Now who’s the idiot who made a scene for nothing?
“Oh.” I stare at my fingers.
“What about you, Kingston? What’s your excuse?” He scoots closer to me on the bed.
I find myself drained of any strength, emotional or physical, that might’ve resided in my body when our eyes connect. I don’t want to fight it. Haze and I are wrong in too many ways to count. We’re wrong, but we’re real. Many walls still keep us apart, and I don’t know about tomorrow but tonight… I want to kick them down. Tonight, I don’t care.
“I love you, that’s why.”
His mouth drops open.
He doesn’t reply. Nor does he react. It takes a second for my words to sink in. Then, without a warning, he smiles and gets on top of me. I didn’t expect any less, but I still struggle with something as basic as breathing when he lays a hand on my cheek and leans forward. He stops two inches away from the high only he can give me.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kiss you right now.”
I’m afraid if I give in to the temptation, it’ll never let me go. I know if I kiss him now, I’ll never stop.
“The doctor will be here soon and… Will’s in the next room and… you can’t. I’m still mad at you,” I stutter, my attempts at convincing him not even enough to convince me.
Dang it. Why is this so hard?
“Uh-huh.” He nibbles on his lip and leans in some more.
“Haze, don’t.” I muster all the will I have left.
He stops and glances up, his eyes asking me the questions I’d never ask myself. He’s saying, “Do you really want me to stop?”
The last of my self-control is blown to pieces.
I cup his face and give in to what I’m terrified to want. I kiss him with all I have. He pulls away at first, surprised that I made the first move, but quickly brings my face closer again. His lips meet mine, and my mouth responds in the only way it knows how: by kissing him back. I missed this. I missed him. I’m supposed to be mad. I’m supposed to be getting over him. This is everything but getting over him. What’s wrong with me?
The guilt in my stomach dissolves when his tongue asks for access, and I grant it to him. His fingers tug at my dress, slowly sliding along my thighs…
“Sorry to interrupt,” a deep voice says.
Haze jerks away from me, his face going from confused, to surprised, to horrified. In the doorway is a man that looks around forty-five. Next to him is Will. He’s probably the one who let him in. He must be the doctor Haze called. He seems familiar. I think I’ve seen him before… but where?
“What are you doing here?” Haze asks, and I’m tempted to elbow him. He’s the one who called this doctor guy here. Why is he being rude?
“Did you really think that I wouldn’t be notified of you calling at one of my clinics? To ask for another doctor than me, to make it even worse. Of course I’d take the opportunity to see you.” The man raises an eyebrow in my direction and stops speaking while he analyzes me thoroughly. He looks repulsed. “Still a ladies’ man, I see.”
Well, excuse me.
“No, I’m done with that, actually,” Haze hisses, the coldness in his tone incomparable to all the times I thought he was being cold. He wasn’t being cold. This is Haze being cold.
“Is that so?” The man looks at me like I’m garbage one more time. “Well, you see, I wouldn’t know about that because you never call or answer the phone.”
>
“What’s going on here? Do you two know each other?” I ask, the word confused an understatement when it comes to how I’m feeling.
“Yes, I agree with your conquest of the week, Haze. Don’t be rude. Introduce us,” the man says. I don’t let his offending words get to me.
“Richard, meet Winter,” Haze says.
Uncomfortable, he rubs at the back of his neck and glares at the man in silence. Then, he brings his eyes back to me.
“Winter, meet my dad.”
24
The Chase
I observe the man standing in front of me, my gaze shifting from his cold blue eyes that show absolutely no sign of kindness whatsoever to his black and slightly gray hair. Now I know where Haze’s eyes come from. I was certain I’d seen this man before, and I was right. He was in the family portrait back at the lake house.
His severe and tired features somehow make his purpose as clear as the sun in the sky. This man’s goal in life is to make money, nothing else. From what he just said, he’s a doctor who owns several medical clinics, which explains how he could afford to invest in Colton Gate and real estate in the first place. I know Maria’s friend, Thomas, is rich with just one clinic. I can’t even imagine having several.
“And by the way, I never answer your texts or calls because they’re always about the same thing,” Haze growls at his dad.
“And they’ll always be about the same thing until you come to your senses and realize that we’re right.”
Haze sighs. “Can you just do your job and make sure that she’s all right?”
His father’s eyes stop on me, and once again, I get the feeling that he’s judging me. Maybe he thinks I can’t possibly be rich enough for his kid. Maybe he thinks I’m temporary. Whatever the reason is, he hates me.
“Under one condition.” Richard crosses his arms. “You show up to the reception your mother is organizing for her new collection Tuesday after next week. It starts at seven. You should have plenty of time to explain to us why on earth you moved out of the house we bought for you and your brother,” he says dryly.
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