I didn’t notice the front door open or Devon come in until Jake shouted across the room, welcoming Devon to the party and pointing out the keg. I stopped “dancing” and looked at my boyfriend. He wore his uniform from Lancaster’s grocery: black slacks, dark-green button-up shirt, and black tie.
“Devon!” Like a hyperactive bunny, I leapt from the sofa and bounded across the room. I pushed myself onto my toes, threw my arms around his neck, pulled him closer, and kissed him. “Hello, sweetie.”
His nose wrinkled as his eyebrows drew together. “Are you drunk?”
“Yep.” I nodded with a dopey smile. “Maimy and I did body shots. It was so much fun. Have you ever done body shots? I can show you how. You just . . .” I licked his skin below his ear.
He unwrapped my arms from his neck and stood up straight. “I’ve done body shots, Tori.”
“Oh. Well,” I smirked. “I can think of some other things we can do.” I slid my hand down his chest to his belt.
“Stop.” He grabbed my wrist.
I jerked my hand out of his grasp. “Fine. Be like that. I don’t care. I don’t need you to have fun.” Turning away from him, I picked up the red cup on the table beside Carter’s chair and gulped the contents. It didn’t matter it wasn’t mine.
Our friends looked from one of us to the other. To break the tension, Jeremiah asked if Jake had any more weed. Jake plopped onto the couch beside his enormous friend and retrieved a plastic zip bag from his pocket.
“This is all I’ve got left,” Jake said.
“Hey, D, you got Marshal’s number?” Jeremiah shouted at Devon.
“No,” Devon answered flatly without taking his eyes off me.
“I know where we can get something really fun,” Lexie offered.
As the three of them discussed their dealer options, Devon walked across the front room. He grabbed my arm by the elbow and ushered me into the kitchen.
“Hey,” I protested, pulling away from him.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
I turned to face him. “What?”
Squinting, he stared at my eyes. “You’re not high, are you?”
“No.” I scowled. “But what would it matter if I was? It’s not like you’re a saint.”
His brow furrowed over a concerned gaze and the corners of his mouth fell. “Tori, this isn’t you.”
“So, you can do whatever you want, but I can’t?”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I said.”
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and turned to the counter. The bottle of tequila was still open next to the shot glasses. As I picked it up to pour myself another shot, Devon put his hand on mine.
“I think you’ve had enough.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I retorted. “You’re not in charge of me.” I pulled away, spilling tequila on the floor. “Damn it! See what you made me do. Just go away.” I filled a shot glass and set the bottle on the counter. “I was perfectly fine before you got here.”
“I can see that.” He scoffed.
“Oh, don’t even.” I dumped the tequila down my throat and whirled to face him. Before I could get another word out my intestines inverted. Vomit spewed onto his crisp cotton shirt, slacks, and down to his boots. “Oops,” I mumbled as I wiped my mouth.
“Come on. Let’s get you to the bathroom.” He grabbed my arm and directed me into the hallway.
“Why?” I asked.
The urge to vomit again answered my question. I yanked my arm out of his grasp, rushed into the bathroom, and hit my knees on the dirty tile floor beside the toilet. Things I didn’t remember eating hit the murky water with a splash.
“That’s why,” Devon said, squatting next to me.
I grumbled at him incoherently. His self-righteous attitude made me want to hit him. To make matters worse, he was nice about it. He rubbed my back and held my hair to keep it from falling into the toilet. Once I’d ridded myself of the entire contents of my stomach, or what I thought was the entire contents, I sat back and leaned against a cabinet. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I glared at him.
“Don’t think this makes you right,” I said.
“Of course not,” Devon replied.
“I wasn’t feeling good earlier.”
“Sure thing.” He nodded though it was clear he did not believe me.
“It’s not like you’re perfect.” I scowled.
“I never said I was.” He stood, unbuttoned his shirt, and tossed it into the tub.
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and looked at the dingy, off-white wall. Bile filled my mouth. I scurried to the toilet and stuck my head through the hole in the seat. When I couldn’t puke anymore, I settled on my heels.
“Better?” Devon’s mocking tone made me angry. Who was he to lecture me on bad behavior? He wiped his pants and boots with a towel, then tossed the towel in the tub on top of his shirt.
Still clinging to the toilet seat to stop the room from spinning, I scowled at him. “You can leave.”
“I’m not leaving.” He squatted beside me, moved the sticky hair out of my face, and sighed. “You’re a mess.”
“No, I’m not.”
Devon stood, took a rag out of the cabinet, and wet it in the sink. When he put it to my forehead, I tried to swat his hand away, but I didn’t have the energy to fight him. My entire body felt heavy. I let my arm drop.
After he’d wiped my face and cleaned the vomit from my hair, Devon picked me up. I grumbled at him as I snuggled into his embrace. My eyes fluttered shut. I wanted to sleep, but his arms felt amazing, and he was shirtless, and I wanted him. Sliding my hand up his chest, I kissed the side of his neck.
He tilted his head away from me. “Don’t.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“You’re drunk.”
“And?” I giggled, kissing him again.
He carried me into his room, flipped on the light with his elbow, and walked to his bed. As he laid me down, I wound my arms around his neck and tried to pull him down with me. He gently removed my arms, tucked them beside me, and covered me with a blanket. If I hadn’t been exhausted, I might have tried harder to seduce him, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. The last thing I remembered was the feel of his lips on my forehead and his soft voice when he whispered, “Goodnight, baby doll.”
Twenty-Seven
When I opened my eyes, I lay under a thin, ragged quilt with mattress springs poking my side. Devon sat in a chair beside me, his glasses perched on his nose and a thick book open in his hand.
“Hi,” I said.
He looked at me and smiled. “Hey, baby doll. Feeling better?”
“My head hurts.”
“I bet. Here. Take these.” He picked up a small medicine bottle.
“What is it?” I asked, surprised at my apprehension.
“Acetaminophen.”
My left eyebrow arched.
“Tylenol.” He set the bottle next to my hand.
I pushed myself up, opened the bottle, and shook two out. After I swallowed the medicine, I lay down and snuggled into the fluffy pillow. It smelled like ocean water, crisp and cool with a hint of salt.
“Your clothes are in the dryer,” Devon said. “They were covered in tequila and puke, so I washed them. As soon as they’re done, I’ll drive you home. I figured it was better for you to be late than take you home passed out drunk and smelling like a bar.”
“I don’t have to go home,” I replied, my voice muffled by the pillow.
“Why not?”
“I’m supposed to be spending the night with Maimy.”
“You are?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded.
Devon closed his book, set it on the table beside the bed, and stood. He pulled the quilt up to my chin, tucking it around me before he kissed my forehead. “Get some sleep.”
“Goodnight, sweetie.” I smiled before letting my eyes close again.
Shivering, I reached for my comforter, but it wasn’t the
re. I opened my eyes. The bed was not mine. It was too small, and the cheap dark sheets weren’t as soft as my white Egyptian cotton. My fluffy pink duvet was warm and inviting; the quilt that adorned this bed was old and worn. It added about as much warmth as a second layer of sheets.
I sat up and looked around the dark room. As far as I could see, I was alone. I slid out of bed, adjusting my nightgown before I realized it wasn’t a nightgown at all. It was a T-shirt that hung almost to my knees.
What happened last night?
Feeling for the door, I found the knob and pulled. The light from the front room illuminated the hall enough to see where I was. I crept forward. I recognized Chase’s trailer, but I had no idea who was there or how I’d wound up asleep in one of the rooms.
As I neared the end of the hall, I saw Devon. The lump in my throat eased. Walking around the kitchen table, I paused in the large opening between the kitchen and front room to watch him.
He sat on the far end of the sofa, fully clothed down to his boots, which he had propped up on the coffee table. A pair of small, wire-framed glasses perched on his nose. Through them, he stared at a paperback book with a gold cover. I couldn’t see the title from my position, but he looked engrossed in its contents.
Flipping the page, Devon reached for his cigarettes without looking. His hand bumped the lighter, and it slid off the pack onto the floor. He used his finger to hold his place in the book, then let it close as he leaned over the arm of the couch to retrieve the lighter. When he settled back down, he glanced over and noticed me in the doorway.
“Hey, baby doll.” He took off his glasses.
“Hi.” I smiled.
“Everything okay?”
“I think so.” I nodded, not wanting to alarm him with my lack of memory.
“How’s your head?”
“Okay.” I wondered if I’d bumped it or something. That would explain not only why I couldn’t remember anything but also why I had a headache. I lifted my hand to search through my hair for a bump or other sign of injury.
“I figured you’d have a decent hangover.”
“Hangover?”
He smiled. “You don’t remember last night, do you?”
“Not really.” I dropped my hand and shook my head. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure. You were pretty inebriated by the time I got here, but there was something about body shots and kissing Maimy.”
My eyes widened in horror. “I didn’t.”
“You did.” He chuckled.
I walked to the sofa and sat down. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. They’ve all done worse.” He put his arm around me, pulled me into his side, and kissed my forehead. I pulled my legs under myself and snuggled into his embrace.
“So, what are you doing?” I asked.
“The light was bothering you, so I came out here.”
I glanced at the clock on the VCR. Four o’clock. “Do you always get up this early?”
“More like, stay up this late.”
I furrowed my brow. “Aren’t you tired?”
“No.” He shook his head. “You can go back to sleep though.”
“I’m all right.”
“Sure?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “Mind if I hang out with you?”
“Not at all.” He kissed the top of my head before he put his glasses back on and reopened his book.
“Devon?”
“Yes, baby doll.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” He closed the book and nodded.
I fidgeted with the hem of the shirt I wore. “Do you remember when you got mad at me for going through your pockets?”
He shifted his weight, moving his arm from my shoulder and picking up his cigarettes again. “I remember.”
“You’re not still mad, are you?”
“Not really.”
“What are those pills for?”
Sliding a cigarette from the pack, he tapped it against the box before putting it between his lips and lighting it. Smoke streamed from his mouth as he exhaled. I watched him in silence. He smoked half the cigarette, then took a deep breath and said, “Fluoxetine is the generic name for Prozac.”
My brow furrowed. “Prozac?”
“Yeah. The counselor in juvie prescribed it because he thought I was depressed.”
I sat up and looked at him. “Are you?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m fine. Happiest person on the planet.” He grinned.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Don’t worry about me. That asshole didn’t know what he was talking about.”
Leaning against him, I set my hand on his chest. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. He put his arm around me again, kissed the top of my head, and whispered, “I love you, baby doll.”
“Love you, too.”
Devon finished his cigarette and snuffed it out in the ashtray. Then he opened his book, flipping to the page he’d been on before I interrupted him.
“What are you reading?” I asked.
“The Death of Ivan Ilych.”
“Is it good?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just started it.”
“Will you read it to me?”
“Sure.” He took a slow breath. “‘Ivan Ilych’s life had been most simple and most ordinary and therefore most terrible . . .’” He continued reading, but at some point, I fell asleep.
I awoke in his arms as he carried me down the hall. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you back to bed,” he answered.
I snuggled into his chest. “Are you coming, too?”
“No. I’m going to run into town and get you some breakfast.”
“It’s too early for breakfast.”
“It’s a quarter after five.” He turned sideways and walked through the door into the small bedroom. “When I get back, I’ll make you some eggs or something before I go to work.” Laying me on the bed, he pulled the quilt over me and kissed my forehead. “Goodnight, baby doll.”
I grabbed his hand. “Don’t go.”
A gentle smile softened his face. “Just get some sleep. I’ll be back by the time you wake up.”
“I’m not hungry,” I whined. “I’m tired and I’m cold and I want you to hold me.”
“All right.” He sighed.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he took off his boots. He lay down next to me and put his arms around me. I wiggled closer. Nestled into his chest, I closed my eyes. He ran his hand over my hair, kissed the top of my head, and hummed softly until I fell asleep.
When I woke, Devon’s arms were still around me. His chest rose and fell with each gentle breath. I opened my eyes and craned my neck to look at his face.
So much for not being tired. I smiled.
I wanted to stay and watch him sleep. Unfortunately, my bladder had other ideas. I held it until I was certain I’d pee the bed if I didn’t get up. Then I slid out of his embrace and rushed across the room on my toes. Opening the door, I peeked into the hall. It was empty. I hurried to the bathroom to relieve my bladder. As I stepped back into the hall, the door at the end creaked and Carter stumbled out.
“Morning,” he grumbled, scratching the side of his head and looking more at the wall than at me. Shirtless and barefoot, he wore a pair of red flannel superhero pants along with thick, plastic-framed glasses. His hair was even more of a mess than usual and stuck up in various places.
“Good morning,” I replied.
He blinked as he focused on me. “Tori? What?” His cheeks flushed as he put his hand over the erection I hadn’t noticed before he drew attention to it. “What are you . . . ?” His eyes flashed to my bare legs, and he swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”
“I, um. I guess I spent the night.”
Carter tried so hard not to look anywhere other than my face he made it obvious he was trying. “Where’s Dev?” He g
lanced around as if he expected Devon to suddenly appear from the wall.
“He’s asleep,” I answered.
Carter’s eyebrows knit together in a quick motion. “Really?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “People sleep, Carter. It’s not a weird thing.”
“No. I guess not.” He chewed the inside of his lip in thought for a second before shrugging off whatever was in his head. “Well, I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got to . . .” He looked at the bathroom door and I stepped out of the way. “Thanks.”
I walked back to the room where I’d slept. Carefully, I slid back into bed and put Devon’s arm over me. Snuggling against him, I closed my eyes. His warmth chased the chill from the air. More comfortable than I thought possible, I let myself drift off again. Something heavy landing across my chest woke me. My eyes popped open, and I realized the thing that hit me was Devon’s arm.
What on Earth?
Devon jerked and groaned beside me. I turned my head to look at him. He’d rolled onto his back, and his chest rose and fell quickly as if he couldn’t catch his breath. I pushed his arm off me, sat up, and twisted to face him. He swung out his arm again. It landed hard where I’d been before flinging the other direction as he rolled onto his side. He groaned and shuddered, his shirt and hair soaked as if someone had dumped water all over him.
I jostled his shoulder. “Devon, wake up. It’s just a bad dream.”
He didn’t open his eyes. Tossing from side to side, he grumbled incoherently. I sat back on my feet and watched him. For a second, it looked as though he would settle. Then he screamed as if he’d come face-to-face with the devil. The sound echoed down to my bones, making the hair on the back of my neck and arms stand on end.
Shaking him, I tried to wake him again. He cursed and groaned but didn’t open his eyes. I slid to the top of the bed. My hand hovered for a moment before I combed my fingertips through the hair above his ear. “You’re okay,” I whispered.
Devon curled into himself, his arms pinned tight to his chest and his legs drawn up, so his body made a lopsided G. I sat next to him and ran my fingers through his wet hair while he fought invisible foes. After what seemed like eons, his breath slowed, and he calmed. I exhaled for what felt like the first time since he’d woken me.
Broken Dreams (Spiraling Book 2) Page 16