by Jen Davis
Dear God, the man knew how to kiss.
His tongue plunged in and out of her like he was making love to her mouth. He tasted faintly of chocolate and coffee, decadent and delicious. His calloused hands scratched gently along her arms, before descending to her ass and lifting her up and onto his body.
She struggled to catch her breath. Her heart jackhammered in her chest. Every nerve ending came alive with his touch.
If kissing him did this to her body, how would she survive when they made love? She desperately wanted to find out.
With her legs wrapped around his waist, she pressed closer, seeking friction against her aching core. There was little to be found. His hands, kneading her ass, and his mouth, now laving her neck with open-mouth kisses, had her panties thoroughly soaked.
Distantly, she heard a phone ringing, but whoever it was would have to wait. She only cared about the man setting her on fire from the inside out.
“Please,” she moaned. “I need you.”
He nipped gently at her ear, then slowly lowered her to the floor, her body sliding over his bulging arousal. She had never wanted any man as much as she wanted this one, this very second.
Brick reached forward and tenderly tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You have no idea how much you tempt me, Livie-mine. I’m barely holding on to my self-control.”
Gripping his hand, she pulled it to the top of her breast, close to her heart. “Stop fighting it. If you want me, take me. I’m right here.”
The phone, which had quieted momentarily, started ringing again. He tugged away from her hold and raked his hand down his face. “I’ll ruin you.” His voice was gravelly. “I lie to myself sometimes. I let myself believe I can have you and I can keep you apart from all the putrid shit in my life, but I’m being selfish.”
“No—”
“Yes. You make me feel like maybe I could be clean again, but it’s a fantasy.”
Her heart sank as he pulled further and further away. “Stay with me.”
“There is nothing I want more, but it doesn’t matter what I want. The phone you hear ringing? My boss is calling. There’s no making him wait. You don’t understand what kind of man he is. I hope you never do.” His smile held no joy. “I’m an idiot and an asshole for coming here. I’d say I’m sorry, but I won’t lie to you.”
He swiped his stuff off the washing machine and shoved it all in the pockets of Will’s sweatpants, then turned toward the door.
“Will you be back?” As many times as he’d pushed her away, was this the final straw?
He paused, turned, then closed the distance between them. His touch was soft as he ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “Not tonight. Afterward…it depends on how well I can keep the promises I make to myself to stay away. God knows I’ve tried, but seeing you—touching you—it’s like a drug. I go out there at night and do terrible things. Most of the time, I can barely look at my face in the mirror. But with you, it all goes away. It’s the only time I don’t feel like a monster.”
No monster would have protected Robby’s feelings at the bar or given advice to a strange little boy who only dreamed of one day being big.
She grabbed his arm. “Take this,” she whispered, pulling the simple braided gold band off her thumb. It fit perfectly on his pinkie. “Next time you feel like a monster, remember there’s somebody out there who knows you’re a man.” Forcing her shoulders back, she lifted her chin and let his hand go.
He blinked once slowly and turned away, grabbing his boots on the way out of her home and into the night.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Liv
When her phone rang in the middle of the night, Liv’s first thought was Brick had changed his mind. It wasn’t a fully formed idea, just a wish on the edge of a dream. A reason for her smile to carry in her voice when she answered.
“Hello?”
“Liv.” The anguish rolled off Rosita in waves and her stomach sank like a stone. “She’s gone.” A sucked-in stuttered breath of air. “She’s gone.
“Carol is dead.”
***
Liv didn’t cry at the funeral. She felt too empty inside to grieve.
Thank God for summer vacation. The last thing she could do right now was face a classroom of kids. She had nothing to offer them.
The service was small. Only Rosita, Carol’s twenty-year-old daughter Elise, and a few friends from work attended. Carol’s parents had died long ago, and she had no other family. The preacher said some stuff about walking with the Almighty in the kingdom of Heaven. Not exactly Carol’s jam, but it seemed to comfort Elise.
She watched it all in stunned silence. Shock and grief turned her into an observer watching from outside her body.
It wasn’t until three weeks later, at Carol’s attorney’s office, her shock gave way to anger. Henry Beauchamp, Esquire, sat behind his large mahogany desk, facing Elise, Rosita, and Liv. The wrinkles at the sides of his eyes gave him a kindly, concerned appearance as he dropped the bomb no one saw coming.
“Thank you all for being here. I know this is a bit unorthodox, but I knew Miss Carol for a long time. She helped place my son with our family many years ago and we kept in touch.” His cadence was Old World Georgia to the core. A genteel Foghorn Leghorn. “I hate to be the bearer of this news, but this is a favor she asked of me.”
Elise laughed bitterly. “I’m pretty sure the worst news has already come and gone. What could be worse than my mama dying?”
“Of course, ma’am.” He ran a pale, wrinkled hand over his thin white hair. “What I meant was, I’m afraid I knew Miss Carol was dying. Or more directly, so did she.”
“Bullshit.” Elise rose to her feet.
“Her last bout of cancer never went into remission.” He gestured for Elise to return to her shiny leather chair, and she sat in shocked silence, a pallor over her normally rich mahogany skin.
He couldn’t be right. Her head spun. “We finished our chemo at the same time. I would know if she were still getting treatment.”
“True, Miss Turner. She did stop treatment.” He swiped at his iPad and peered at the screen. “In December of last year.”
Rosita gripped the gold cross she always wore around her neck. “She wouldn’t give up. Carol wanted to live.”
The lawyer sighed, as if this conversation was harder on him than the women who loved Carol most. “Her cancer spread to her liver. The doctors could do nothing else except make her comfortable. She said she wanted to use the time she had left to live her life to the fullest.”
“The fucking list,” Elise muttered.
The Dare to Dream list.
The gut punch threatened to make her double over.
Carol’s fucking bucket list, her last hurrah at living. And the worst part? They only managed to complete two goddamn things on it before she died.
“She knew you’d be angry,” Mr. Beauchamp murmured. “But she made her choice, for good or for ill.” He cleared his throat. “Miss Carol didn’t have much in the way of material possessions. Her car, a 2015 Honda Accord, goes to her daughter Elise, along with some photo albums and home videos I have set aside in the back room. To Miss Suarez, she left the contents of her apartment: all furniture, clothing, electronics, et cetera. Miss Turner, she left you this.”
The lawyer opened his desk drawer and pulled out a black eight-by-ten frame and held it out to her. It was plastic and flimsy, feather-light in her hand. And inside, a handwritten copy of the list they’d come up with together so many months ago.
Dare to Dream
Cliff dive
Skydive
Drive a race car
Bungee jump
Scuba dive
Change Someone’s Life
Fall in Love (trust your heart)
Two of those were new, and the last…unwelcome. She’d tried opening herself up and look how it turned out. He had never come back. Never called. Besides, romance had been the last thing on her mind the past few weeks.
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And she’d made enough moves where Brick Barlow was concerned. Dammit.
She couldn’t think straight; nothing made sense.
Her heart cracked open. As she stared at Carol’s uneven print, the tears finally came. Her chest tightened against the soul-deep pain. Silent at first, her anguish gave way to a mournful cry, and she sobbed. For the lies. The crushing loneliness. For the plans they made and never saw through.
For a lifetime without her best friend. Her guiding star. Her mentor.
She cried until she had nothing left. It could have been five minutes or fifty, but she finally caught her breath.
Clutching the frame in a death grip, she moved woodenly toward the exit.
“Are you going to finish the list?”
She paused at Rosita’s question, the doorknob in her hand. “I don’t know.” Thinking about it hurt too much.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Brick
Six weeks later
“I told the new guy I’d have the money at the beginning of the week. Ask him; he’ll tell you.” Pam lifted her hands to stop Brick’s approach.
“If you told Tre you couldn’t pay, he would’ve told you the money’s not due next week. It’s due right now.” He massaged the palm of his right hand with his left thumb.
Fucking Tre. Sucre let him do some work on his own now, but it was up to Brick to clean up any messes he made.
Pam dropped to her knees, and his stomach lurched. She whimpered as she reached for his belt buckle.
He took a step back. “Don’t do this,” he warned.
Her green eyes filled with tears as she lifted her head. She would’ve been a pretty girl if she didn’t have sores all over her face. Meth fucked people up. “I’m begging you. Please. Keep the new guy away from me. I can’t—” Her voice broke. “I can’t go through that again.”
He had no doubt the terror in her eyes was real.
His mind started spinning. When exactly had Tre been here and why? Pam wasn’t due a visit until today. He squatted down to her eye level. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“He did things to me.” She trembled. “Last night. It was late, after midnight. He was so angry when he showed up. Said Sucre takes his money seriously.” Her tears streamed down her face. “I told him I didn’t have it all yet. I said I was going to go work the street tonight to get the rest, but he didn’t want to hear it. Said he was going to…take it out of my ass.”
A knot formed in his stomach. “Did he rape you?”
Her answer was to wrap her arms across her torso and start rocking.
He reached out to comfort her, but she scuttled back, her chest heaving with frantic breaths. Pam thought he was the same kind of beast as the man who broke her the night before. He twisted the shiny gold ring on his left pinkie. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her eyes darted back and forth, like she couldn’t make sense of his words. “Afterward, he said if I kept my mouth shut, he’d let me pay next week.” Finally, her gaze landed on him. “He was lying, wasn’t he?”
He nodded. “Just give me what you have, and we’ll call it square.” He’d use his own money to pay the difference.
Scrambling to her feet, Pam disappeared into her bedroom and returned with a handful of rumpled bills. “I can’t face him again.”
“You can’t tell anyone about this.” With a churning stomach, he took the cash and left.
The rain had finally stopped, but there were huge puddles he had to avoid on the way to his truck. The air hung heavy with the smell of wet garbage. His heart was even heavier.
Sucre’s lesson may have worked in the short term, but the monster under Tre’s skin was peeking out again. And his boss had been clear: next time Tre forgot the rules, Brick would be the one delivering the message.
He’d done terrible things, but he’d never raped anyone, and he refused to start now.
No. He’d keep his mouth shut and hope somehow, some way, he could get it through Tre’s thick head to follow the rules, before they both lived to regret it.
***
Liv
Devon didn’t show up for the first day of school. Or the second. When she saw still no sign of him after the first two weeks, Liv went to see the guidance counselor at lunch. She’d planned to do it back in May, and now she regretted the delay. Unfortunately, Mr. Barnes was out of the office. The administrative assistant said he had a bad case of the flu.
It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to drag her heels again.
“You don’t roll over and die when things get tough,” Carol had told her once when Liv was so sick and weak, she could barely lift her cheek from the rim of the toilet bowl. “You can’t win the prize if you stop running the race.”
Helping this kid—changing his life—it mattered.
Not because Carol put it on her list. She still couldn’t think about the damn list. But Devon had so much potential. She couldn’t let him throw it away.
Even without Mr. Barnes, she could call Devon’s parents. A quick search for his emergency contact sheet came up empty. A deeper dive into his electronic records failed to provide a single phone number, only an address in what she knew was a rough part of town.
She toyed with the idea of knocking on his door, but she didn’t know how well it would go over with his parents. He’d given her the impression his family life left something to be desired, and unlike Carol, she was no social worker, but she did care about him.
Maybe she could find another way in.
Justin.
Every time she saw Devon last year, he and Justin Brown were thick as thieves. They ate lunch together. They left campus together at the end of every day. If anyone would know what was going on with Devon, Justin would.
She found him sitting alone, playing with his phone on a bench in the quad. Surprisingly, there were no girls around. A cute kid with light hazel eyes and rich, dark skin, it was rare to see Justin without at least one girl hanging on his arm.
“Do you have a second?”
He glanced up, then gestured to the empty space on the bench next to him. His brows drew together. “Everything okay, Miss T?”
She took the offered seat. “I’m hoping you can tell me. I haven’t seen Devon since school started back up. He was supposed to be in my Senior Advanced Lit class this year. Have you heard from him?”
Justin shifted uncomfortably. “He, uh, he’s got some stuff going on at home.”
“Yeah. I got the impression. Should I be worried?”
He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the breeze. She waited. She knew it was no small thing she was asking. It had to be bad for Justin to be even considering any answer besides no.
After a minute or two, he firmed his jaw and opened his eyes. “Yeah. I think we all need to be worried.”
Shit. Part of her had hoped Justin would say everything was fine, or she had read too much into things and Devon only had a cold or something. “What’s going on, Justin?”
He rubbed his forefinger across the seam of his mouth. “Can’t tell you, Teach. Not my story to tell. Maybe you could talk to him. Convince him to come back. He liked you. He says you looked out for him and shit.”
She let the curse word slide. “Can you help me find him?”
“Yeah. I can, but are you sure?” He tilted his head toward her. “You don’t exactly look like you belong in our neighborhood, you know what I’m saying? And I’m not sure folks will appreciate some well-meaning white lady swooping in, trying to save the day.”
He had a point. Her life was hardly a Michelle Pfeiffer movie with a Coolio soundtrack. She did care about Devon, though, and she didn’t want him to fall through the cracks.
Change someone’s life.
“You think you could get him to meet you somewhere? Grab a burger or something? I could run into you guys, try to talk to him.”
Justin rubbed at his chin. “I think I could. Give me your number and I’ll text you.”
She rattled off
the numbers, and he put them into his phone.
“He’ll know it’s not a coincidence,” he warned, “but I’m hoping no one else will.”
***
True to his word, Justin texted her around seven o’clock with the address of a Burger King ten minutes away. The teens were already halfway through their burgers when she walked in the door.
Liv walked straight to their table. “Fancy meeting you here.”
The glower Devon gave Justin could strip paint from the wall. “Are you shitting me right now? You narc’d me out to my teacher?” He tossed the rest of his hamburger onto the tray. “I should’ve known you didn’t really want to buy Taylor a ring at the pawn shop tonight, even if her baby is yours.”
“No telling who her kid belongs to, but no, I didn’t tell anybody your business. Miss T wanted to talk to you is all. Nobody’s here to see it. What’s it gonna hurt?”
There weren’t many people there, but she felt as though every one of them stared at her. “May I sit?”
“Whatever,” Devon grumbled.
“I’ll grab you a Whopper.” Justin couldn’t get out of his chair fast enough.
She sighed as she sat down. “Please don’t blame him. I really did come asking about you.”
Devon rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you shouldn’t. I don’t need you to come in and save me.”
“What do you need? Something’s going on. You’re not coming to school. I bet you didn’t take your ACTs. You refuse to talk about college.” It was such a waste.
She slapped the table. “You’re too smart for this. You can do anything with your life, but only if you take the opportunities right in front of you.”