by Angel Lawson
Panic consumes me as I struggle against him. His hand pushes down on mine, making me feel him and his eyes, dark and disturbed, have a second of clarity, and for one second he’s all over me, and the next he’s lifted in the air, flying across the room.
Another hulking man stands over the table.
“Get out of here, Sierra.”
I nod, scrambling out of the seat. Smith turns back to Reid, but I don’t stay to watch. I run past the crowd of bar-goers, who are now interested in the two men in the middle of the room. I bolt out the door, gulping in air.
Katie looks up, eyes wide.
“I’ve got to go.”
She hangs up and runs over. “What happened? Oh my god, what happened?”
A crash comes from inside, along with the howl of the customers. The door shakes when something hard lands against it.
“I was just sitting there,” I say, “And this guy I barely know cornered me in,” it all comes out in a rush. Katie listens intently, worry etched on her forehead. “Can we get out of here?”
“Yes, of course.”
Another crash comes from inside and we get to Katie’s car. I leave mine, not worried about it for now, and I get in the passenger seat. Soon we’re on the way down the road to my house, my heartrate finally slowing.
“Who was that guy?”
“Reid Langford.”
Her eyebrows raise. “From high school?”
“Yes. He came over today to give me an estimate for some work—well, showed up really—uninvited. He was a little pushy then, too, but Holden walked in—”
“Wait, Holden went to your house?”
“To bring me a pie pan.”
She glances over at me as she pulls up to the house. “Okay, first of all, Reid is a super douche and seems like a predator. There were rumors about him at school, but I didn’t realize how awful he is.” She pushes her hair out of her eyes. “And Holden? Is that who was fighting him in there?”
I swallow. “Um, no. Not Holden. That was Smith.”
Her eyes widen. “Holy shit, Smith was in there?”
“I didn’t see him either, but he looked over right when Reid shoved his tongue down my throat. He must have realized I was in trouble.”
“Wow.” My hands shake in my lap. She reaches out and holds one. “I’m sorry that happened to you. We really should call the police.”
That’s the last thing I want to do. The Falco family has had enough run-ins with the cops over the years. “I just want to go to bed.”
She sighs. “Okay, babe, if that’s what you want, but we can go tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
We head into the house, and I’m struck by the starkness of the inside. I’ve stripped away so much of what made it a home, that now it’s just a house that no longer feels like mine. Slowly, I’ve been removing personal items, photos, clothing, decorations, all in preparation for the work to be done. But now it feels different. Empty.
Or maybe that’s just the numbness I’m feeling after what happened in the bar.
“Do you want me to stay tonight? I can. I just need to be back at the lodge by six.”
I shake my head. “No. You’ve done enough.”
“Sierra, it’s not a problem. I don’t mind at all.”
“I’m okay. He didn’t really hurt me.”
“It’s not about pain. He—”
I hold up my hand, fighting off a shudder. I can’t stop thinking about his hands being on me and how he forced me to touch him. No, he didn’t hurt me, but I still don’t feel okay.
“I just want a shower and to go to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She doesn’t look convinced. “Seriously, I’m fine.”
She relents, giving me a hug before she goes. I lock the door behind her and head to the shower, stripping off my clothes and tossing them in the hamper. I run the water hot—scalding—burning away the feel of Reid’s demanding hands and the tears that finally fall down my face.
I turn off the shower and dry off, before pulling on my favorite Supernatural T-shirt and a pair of shorts. With wet, tangled hair I walk around the house, turning off lights, finally calming down. That’s when I hear the sound of a motor. I flip off the final light and press my back against the wall. Headlights flash down the driveway, bouncing on the dirt road. I tense, heart racing. I look across the room. My phone is on the coffee table. Calling the police is pointless, it would take them forever to get here. My mind races and I think of the shotgun under my father’s bed. I push off the wall and take one last look out the window. The vehicle races up the driveway and stops with a sharp lurch, rocks flying on impact. Fear is lodged in my throat when I see the Parks Department logo visible on the side of the white truck.
I watch, tired and confused, as Smith gets out of the driver’s seat. He runs his hand through his thick, dark hair and looks up at the house. His face is cast in a shadow that only accentuates his devilishly handsome looks. He shifts, and I see a red bruise under his eye and blood smeared on his lip.
That’s what makes me open the door.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, feeling my heart flutter. My nerves are still raw.
He climbs the steps, and I feel his eyes on me, looking at my baggy pajamas and wet, tangled hair.
“I wanted to check on you.” His hand balls in a fist by his side—his knuckles are scraped and bruised.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him. “You know, back at the bar.”
Pain flashes across his face. “Yeah, I did.”
“Where is he?”
“The police picked him up. He was drunk and tried to assault an officer.” He frowns. “They want you to come in tomorrow and make a report.”
Ah, that’s why he’s here. To tell me to go to the police. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s a ranger. Basically law enforcement in his own right. I step into the house and walk to the kitchen, grabbing a towel and wetting it under the faucet. I carry it back and hand it to him.
“You’re bleeding.”
His tongue darts out and licks the split in his lips.
Dammit.
“So, you’ll make the report?” He dabs the cloth over his mouth.
“I’ll think about it.”
He watches me closely and my skin prickles from the intensity. I can’t deal with Smith right now. Not when I’m so close to the edge.
“Do you need anything?”
“Sleep.”
He nods and hands me the towel. A spot of blood spreads through the fabric.
“Keep it,” I say, starting to close the door. His blue eyes hold mine, a million emotions swirling behind them. “Thank you. For tonight.”
His jaw clenches so tight I think it may snap in two. “When I saw him on you…”
I don’t want to think about it.
“You got him off.”
Tension ebbs between us. It’s not entirely his fault. New Year’s Eve was a mess for the two of us. It’s probably best if we just put it behind us.
He heads down the stairs without another word, but I pause, hand on the door.
“Smith!”
He turns. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for being there tonight.” Upset shakes in my voice. “I don’t know what—”
“You’re welcome,” he replies, not making me finish. Our eyes holding for a long beat.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Sierra.”
I don’t wait to see him drive off, heading straight to bed. I do manage to sleep, although it’s restless, and I eventually get up at five, before daybreak. In the kitchen I grab a glass and fill it from the sink, looking out the window toward the horizon. My mother wanted windows all over this house. She wanted a view of the mountains, the sunrise and the sunset. The kitchen faces the east and I drink my water, waiting for the sun to rise from behind the hills.
Darkness fades and the sun begins its ascent, hot pink and glaring. A reflection bounces in the corner of my eye, something metal, and I blink.
Smith’s truck is still in the driveway. I lean forward, so close my nose is almost touching the glass. And he’s slouched against the window. My heart skitters. Is he dead? Hurt.
He shifts, yawning, and settles back against the glass. He’s asleep.
He stayed out there all night?
I didn’t even know where to begin with that.
I’m frozen, watching him, the sun breaking across the yard. The light rouses him, and I see him rub his eyes, blinking toward the house and then starting the ignition. My heart pounds as he slowly pulls out of the driveway and drives off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
He’s gone before the sun has fully risen.
I stand over the sink, wondering if what I’d just seen had really been there. Maybe I’d dreamed it.
Or maybe Smith doesn’t hate me as much as I thought he did.
8
Smith
If I’d been hoping for a discreet entrance at home, that was shot to hell when I see the lights on in the kitchen window. There’s time to turn around, but the scent of coffee and bacon hits me at the bottom of the steps. Hunger takes precedence.
Adrian sits at the table, a huge pile of food in front of him, while Holden pours himself a mug of coffee and Robbie leans against the countertop, scrolling down his phone.
Adrian sees me first. “What the fuck happened to your face?”
I head straight to the coffee maker. “There was an incident down at the bar.”
“Shit. You got in a fight?” Holden asks, moving aside. His eyes roam the bruise under my eye. “Did you get locked up?”
“No.” I pour the hot liquid into my mug. This is the part of the story I don’t want to tell. A fight, they’ll understand. Expect, really. My temper is pretty legendary, although it’s been more under control lately. Seeing that asshole on Sierra? I’d snapped.
“If you weren’t in lockup, then where were you?” Holden asks. A second later his eyes light up. “Were you with a girl?”
I glance at Robbie to see if he heard anything from his girlfriend. The set of his jaw tells me he does, and he wasn’t ready to let them know either. Fuck.
I take a sip of caffeine and wince. Goddam split lip. “I was outside of Sierra’s house.”
“Outside?” Adrian asks.
With hesitation, I tell them about what I saw the night before. How I’d been at the bar alone when I’d heard a faint “No” over the music and talking. It’d sounded familiar. Distressed. And that’s when I saw that asshole was all over Sierra. And then she’d looked at me—begging for help. “He’s lucky he still has his fucking fingers.”
“Mother-fuck—I knew that guy was shady as hell,” Holden curses and guilt crosses his expression. As if he could have done something about it.
He couldn’t, but I did.
“Well, it’s taken care of.” The prick got arrested for causing a disturbance at the bar. Luckily the cops believed me when I told them what happened. To get him off the streets though, Sierra is going to have to go down and make a report.
“Is she okay?”
I shrug. “I went by after and she just looked worn out. I didn’t feel right leaving her there alone all night, so I camped out in the driveway. Slept in my truck.”
Adrian and Holden exchange looks. Here we go.
“When are you going to tell us what happened between you two?” Holden asks.
“When I decide it’s your god-damned business.”
“It’s been six months. Sierra is back in our lives. Maybe it would help if you just told us.” Adrian shakes his head. “This is the kind of shit you do that always makes it worse than it really is.”
Robbie looks curious, too, which means Sierra hadn’t told Katie. Why would she? I’d humiliated her. All because I was a fucking wimp.
“I’m going to shower.”
I don’t look for their reaction, other than knowing they’re tired of me avoiding this. What happened between me and Sierra was unfortunate, and Adrian’s right, it’s the kind of shit I do that always makes things worse.
I know they think it’s harder, but it’s not. It’s easier this way. Letting someone in—easing down my walls? That’s when things in my life get bad.
I turn on the shower and strip down, glancing at my face in the mirror. The bruise is already turning from red to purple. My split lip is swollen, but the wound's dry.
I step into the steaming stream of water and try not to think about New Year’s. It’s as futile today as it is every other day. It’d been just after midnight. We’d gone down to the lake for a bonfire. It was cold as fuck, but we were all a little buzzed. The guys were shooting off fireworks. Sierra and I were alone for a minute, and I’d spent the whole night soaking her in. So pretty, funny, and strong. I was impressed by her; the business she ran, the kids she took in. She was good. Too good for a fuck-up like me.
But she didn’t know that.
She didn’t know about my past, my record, my family. And as I heard her explain what she’d gone through with her brother, I knew the last thing she needed in her life was more baggage.
I shampoo my hair and soap up my body, feeling the tight desire building in my lower belly. It happens every time I think of her that night. She’d worn ripped up jeans that showed a sliver of her thigh, a tight red sweater that clung to the swell of her breasts. Her smile was infectious. Her lips perfect.
Everything seemed right. She seemed right.
My hand lowers between my legs, my erection already building. Dammit. I told myself to stop doing this. To stop thinking about her. I press my back against the wall, letting the water pour down my body, the soap streaming with it. My hand strokes up and down, thinking of the way Sierra had looked at me.
How she leaned into me.
How she kissed me.
I hold onto that moment, closing my eyes, reliving the way her mouth felt on mine. It’d taken me by surprise. Honestly, I thought she was into Adrian. Which is good, Adrian is stable. Safe. I’m…not the guy you want to take home.
Turns out, Sierra Falco may not have anyone, and that’s trouble for the both of us.
That night, her tongue slipped between my lips and her hands wrapped around my waist. It was a great kiss. Amazing. So good that all these months later I can still get hard thinking about it. I can jack off at the memory of it—her. The way her tongue tasted like champagne.
I work myself, feeling the build-up in my balls. I bite down on my lip, wincing at the pain from the split. I guide my hand down my length, thinking of those lips, that mouth, her small, but controlled hands.
And I exhale, groaning out as my body jerks, spilling my seed across the shower floor.
Only when I’m finished, and my breathing is under control, do I think about what happened next.
We kissed, while fireworks burst overhead, and she pulled me down, whispering in my ear. She told me she wanted me, and I looked down at her, wanting her all the same, but knowing in my heart, in the pit of my stomach, I couldn’t have her.
I’m not good enough for that girl.
Not like Adrian.
Not like Holden.
And out on that dock, with the year fresh and waiting, I rejected Sierra Falco, walking away from what I knew would be the best thing in the world for me, and the absolute worst for her.
9
Sierra
“I’m not going to pressure you into going to the police. That’s your decision. And I’m not going to complain that I had to hear about Smith sleeping in his car all night outside your house from my boyfriend, but I am going to ask you, for the final time, to tell me what the hell happened between you two on New Year’s Eve.”
Katie says all of this through grunts of exertion. We’re pulling up the old carpet in the living room of the house. Fiber particles fly everywhere, and I pull the bandana I tied around my neck up over my mouth. Together we roll up the stained, old carpet and haul it outside, throwing it in the dumpster I had delivered earlier that da
y.
She gives me a stern look, obviously not ready to let me off the hook.
“Fine. Let’s get a drink and sit on the deck.”
We head back to the house, through the kitchen and out the back door. My father built this deck, positioned for the perfect sunset. It’s too early for that today, but the memories of sitting out here with my family hit hard as we walk out the door.
There are still a few chairs out here, most rusted and worn out, but Katie and I find two that look sturdy enough and sit down, propping our feet on the railing.
“Smith. Spill.”
I squirm in my seat and take a sip of my cold tea. “It’s not a big deal. We just had an incredibly awkward moment together that I’m sure we’d both like to forget. Or at least, I want to,” I mumble.
She sits up. “What kind of awkward moment are we talking about here? Passing gas? Off-color joke? Political argument? Nip slip?”
“Nip—” I shake my head. “It was none of those!” I take a deep breath and fight the humiliation bubbling in my chest. “I kissed him, okay? And he flat out rejected me.”
Her eyes bug wide and her jaw drops. “You kissed Smith.”
She nods.
“You kissed him.”
“Yes.”
“On the mouth?”
“Yes.”
Her head tilts. “With tongue?”
I drop my head in my hands, the embarrassment too much. “Yes.”
“And you say he rejected you, exactly what does that mean? I need to know every detail.”
“Jesus, Katie.”
“You held out on me for six months with this information. Six months! You owe me details!”
“Fine!” I shout, my voice echoing against the hills. “We were at the lake. It was after midnight. You and Robbie were off doing, well, whatever it is you two were doing. Adrian and Holden were setting off fireworks, and me and Smith were hanging out.” I push my braid over my shoulder. “I was a little drunk, and I think he was, too. We were getting along okay. Like, better than expected, since he can be so standoffish.”
She snorts. “That’s an understatement.”