by Shandi Boyes
The past two weeks ... fuck. I don't have a word to adequately describe it. Things are good—very good. Not only have Savannah and I rekindled our friendship as if no time at all has passed, but there also hasn't been an incident at my house that required outside assistance. Not one. That's phenomenal. I honestly can't remember the last time I've gone a day without needing to protect my mother from my father in some way—whether physical or mental—let alone an entire two weeks.
I want to say my father’s newfound attitude is compliments of me having the gall to stand up to him, but that isn’t the case. The credit for his gentlemanly composure has nothing to do with me but with Regina, the officer who has kept her pledge of bringing my father to justice.
My father has worked with his partner for over fifteen years, but the Monday morning following the incident in our backyard, he was assigned another officer from a secondary division. I heard him grumbling to my mom last week about the unjust way the head of department is treating him and that he's seeking representation from a union member. His tone was the same stern one I've become accustomed to hearing the past ten years, but for once, his anger wasn't directed at my mom. By placing herself in his line of fire, Regina shifted the focus off my mom. For that alone, I will be forever in her debt.
A pelt of water to my head draws my focus back to the present. I shift my narrowed gaze to the direction the water came from. Brax is standing beside Savannah’s best friend, Justine. His hose down was more to impress her than Chris, who is in a fit of laughter on his right. Brax would never admit it, but he didn’t offer for Justine to clean the rim of the cars because it's easier for her to reach. He's doing it so he can ogle her ass. He clearly likes what he sees, as he’s been adjusting his crotch as often as I have this afternoon.
While running his fingers through his shoulder-length brown hair, Brax chuckles. "You looked hot. I was cooling you down."
The gleam in his eyes when he drags them down Savannah’s body reveals what he really wants to say. He’s giving the same warning he has a hundred times the past two weeks. “Until she's yours, she isn’t yours. Keep your hands to yourself.”
Even peeved the biggest player at school is giving me relationship advice, I agree with him. Savannah isn’t mine. She’s still his.
Savannah hasn’t mentioned Axel the past two weeks. He doesn’t come up during our conversations, and I’ve never asked about him, but I know they’re still together. The fact he texted her over a dozen times last night leaves no doubt to my theory, let alone the fact no matter how steamy the air gets when we are together, we’ve never acted on our desires. Not even a measly peck on the lips. Goddammit!
Although tempted to ask Savannah about their relationship, something always stops me. I don't know why I'm hesitant. We've grown close the past two weeks, but no matter how many times I attempt to force the words off my tongue, my mouth refuses to relinquish them. Maybe I am worried about losing her?
“Where did you go?” Savannah asks, her voice barely a whisper.
When I arch a brow, she wiggles her torso, requesting I loosen the tight grip I have on her. I do—reluctantly.
"Whenever you're deep in thought, you get a groove right here." Her last two words are complemented with strokes of her thumb between my brows. "You've been doing so much thinking lately, the crease is becoming a wrinkle."
She smiles when I screw up my nose. “That’s not helping,” she mutters between giggles.
Favoring her laugh over the direction our conversation could take if I admit the cause of my furrowed brows, I tickle her ribs.
"Ryan ... don't..." she warns between giggles. She wriggles against me, making me acutely aware of how close we’re standing.
I’ve barely bombarded her ribs for the second time when Justine shouts, “Break’s over, you two. We’ve got half a dozen cars waiting for our attention.”
Shocked by her menacing tone, my eyes rocket to Justine. Her face is even paler than usual, enhancing the vibrant red coloring of her hair, and the heat her cheeks gained from Brax’s flirty comments all afternoon has drained. If her eyes are as telling as Savannah’s, I’ll guess she’s panicked. The reason for her spooked response comes to light when she nudges her head to the line of cars waiting to be cleaned.
“Oh shit,” Savannah mumbles under her breath when she spots the shiny red convertible using the sidewalk as if it's a road. “He wasn’t supposed to be back from football camp until tomorrow.”
After realigning her clothes to make sure they're sitting right, she lifts her eyes to mine. Her lips twitch, but not a word spills from her mouth. She doesn't need to speak for me to hear her pleas, though; I can see them in her eyes. They are the same ones she gave me last night when she begged for privacy so she could return his third unanswered call. Please forgive me.
Even with my brain screaming for me to deny her request, I nod my head, foolishly believing my gallantry will be rewarded tenfold in the future. Savannah gives my hand a final squeeze before hotfooting it to Justine's side. Grabbing a bubble-loaded sponge and bucket, she sets to work on cleaning the car Justine and Brax have been working on the past ten minutes while I sink into the shadows, pretending I don't care that she is still his.
I wish I didn't care. I wish I was confident enough in our relationship to march up to her and plant a sloppy kiss on her lips right in front of him. But since I'm treading in foreign waters, I act like a coward instead of a man.
I watch him creep up on her with a gleam in his eyes that matches mine—the one that claims ownership.
I watch him twirl her through in the air—her giggles for him, not me.
I watch him kiss her as I want to kiss her—without hesitation or fear of who is watching.
I watch him carry her to his car over his shoulder—his hand swatting her bottom like he always does.
I watch him drive her away from me as she watches me, begging for me to save her, while also pleading that I don’t.
I watch her from afar as I have the past five years.
Watching—never having.
15
Ryan
I stop glaring at Axel’s taillight when a soft voice snarls, “God I hate him.”
Justine stops to stand beside me, her face as tormented as mine. Although our contact the past few years was lacking compared to what it once was, we’ve had more interaction than Savannah and I did. Like many of us, Justine was an innocent bystander in a war none of us belonged in.
“Not an Axel Monroe fan?” I ask Justine, acting like I haven’t spotted the disdain burning in her unique blue-green eyes.
She gags, making me grin. “He’s an asshole who shouldn’t be allowed within an inch of Savannah.”
I nod my head in full agreement. “Have you told Savannah how you feel?” I ask with hope in my voice. The more anti-Axel supporters I amass, the more chance I have of making Savannah see sense.
Justine tightens her arms under her breasts, commanding the attention of every male in the vicinity. All but one. There are only one set of boobs my eyes want to see—they aren’t ones belonging to my girl’s best friend.
“I’ve told her a dozen times this week alone. My brothers have warned her away from him a hundred times. Even my dad sat down and talked to her last month. She isn’t listening.” Justine drags her teeth over her bottom lip, instigating a gruff moan from Brax, who is loitering at our right. “She’d listen to you, Ryan.”
I huff. “You don’t think I’ve tried?”
Justine bows her brow, calling out my lie with a confidence not many soon-to-be eighteen-year-olds hold.
“You straight up told her to leave Axel?” Her voice is drenched with sarcasm.
“Not in those exact words, but she knows what I’m thinking. I don’t need to tell her.”
I swear Brax is on the verge of coronary failure when Justine tightens her arms more, hoisting her bosoms even higher on her chest. He isn’t the only one with an out-of-control heart rate. Justine’s glare is brutal, potent enough t
o dry every hair on my head.
“Girls need words, Ryan. Savannah needs words. Your words.”
“I don’t have that type of influence over her anymore, Justine. We’ve talked more the past two weeks than we have the past five years.”
Justine huffs. “Funny. You may not have spoken, but she mentioned your name every single day for the past five years.”
I take a step back, physically stunned by her revelation. “She spoke of me every day?” I’m certain I heard her wrong.
“Yes, Ryan. Every. Day. You weren’t the only one suffering the past five years; so was Savannah. She loved you, but by the time she realized it, she thought she had lost you.” She glides her hand down my arm before lifting her frank eyes to mine. “Don’t let her assume wrong a second time around.”
I stare at her, blinking and mute. I’m truly lost for words. Not just because I’m a fumbling teen with communication issues, but because I’m stunned by her admission that Savannah loved me. I’ve always known Savannah was special, but love...Fuck! Is that why my heart goes crazy every time I think about her? Because I love her?
Though my brain feels overloaded, I nod my head, agreeing with Justine’s plea.
“You’ll speak to her?”
When I nod again, she claps her hands together, her joy uncontained.
“Good. You can do it tonight at my party. Brax has all the details. It starts at nine. Don’t be late.”
Not waiting for me to reply, she skips back to the car she’s cleaning, her steps as spirited as the grin on her face. She looks like a chubby kid entering Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, like her every wish was just granted.
I’m glad I have her confidence, but I’m also shitting my pants. I’m not worried about Axel’s reaction to me calling him out as the douchebag he is; I’m fucking petrified of putting my relationship with Savannah on the line so soon after being reacquainted.
If given the option, I’d prefer to have a few more weeks before throwing a massive obstacle in our way. But I also know the longer I wait, the deeper Axel will sink his hooks into her. So really, there's no other option. I need to get Savannah away from Axel. And the sooner I do that, the better it will be for all involved.
Justine stops scrubbing the front fender of some old geezer’s BMW when I call her name. Her red hair falls into her face when she cranks her neck in my direction.
“Is Axel invited to your party?” I ask.
“Fucking shoot me,” Brax murmurs under his breath when Justine smiles a shit-eating grin before shaking her head.
“No boys are invited,” she explains, her voice extra throaty.
I glide my hand down my clothes hanging limp on my wet frame. “The last time I checked, I was a man.”
“Exactly! You’re a man, Ryan.” Her smile grows right alongside Brax’s tormented expression. “Axel is still a boy.”
“And me?” Brax asks, stepping up to the plate to receive his praise, not the least bit deterred by the evil glare Justine’s brothers are giving him over her shoulder. “Am I a boy or a man?”
Justine’s eyes stray from me to Brax. She conceals her blush, but nothing can remove the interest from her eyes. “I don’t know,” she answers with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe I’ll find out tonight?”
She tries to impede her eldest brother’s steps with a playful laugh, but he's on Brax’s heels before he is even halfway out the parking lot of our school.
16
Ryan
“Everything good?”
I slide into the driver’s seat of my truck, ignoring the suggestive smirk of a blonde sucking down cigarettes as fast as my dad is guzzling beers in a strip club on the outskirts of town.
“Yeah, he’ll be occupied for a few hours, if not more. Dani said she’d call if he leaves before they shut up shop.”
Brax nods, understanding my dad’s love of strippers is the only reason I can keep my end of the bargain I made with Justine earlier today.
When I arrived home from the carwash this afternoon, I was anticipating bypassing my dad on his way to work. Unfortunately, there was a change in his schedule I failed to notice. Yes, keeping informed of his whereabouts is a fulltime job.
I had intended to message Justine to tell her my change in plans, but just before I hit the send button, a brilliant idea popped into my head. It was as unoriginal as it was corny, but my dad accepted his early Father’s Day present without qualm. He nearly fell out of his chair when he spotted the five hundred dollars I stuffed into an old envelope I found lying around the house.
I was only planning to give him a hundred dollars, but I realized that would only keep him out of my mom’s hair for an hour at most. By increasing my generosity, I tripled the likelihood he’d be gone longer. It killed me to give him any of the money I earned fighting three weeks ago, but I wasn’t lying when I said I’d do everything in my power to stop Savannah from following my mother’s footsteps. I’ll even encourage my father’s cheating ways.
I didn’t even make it to the base of the stairs when I overheard my father telling my mother he was called in for an emergency shift. He kissed her cheek before racing out of our house like his backside was on fire. Since I knew where he was going, I didn’t follow him.
With another one hundred dollars removed from my kitty, I was guaranteed a night of freedom. Dani may be a stripper, but she still has morals. She’ll contact me if my father’s budges an inch from the front row seat he’s currently occupying.
A few miles away, I pull my truck to the curb of the park I engraved mine and Savannah’s name at years ago. Considering it's only a little after 9 PM on a Saturday night, I’m shocked to discover the block deserted.
“Did you text Chris to say we were on our way?”
Brax nods before lowering his brown eyes to the screen of his phone. “He’s coming. He’s just got to fly under the witch’s radar.”
“Things still not right with his mom?”
Brax huffs. “Are they ever? Have you met his mother? I thought my grandma was strict. She’s got nothing on that lady.”
I sit in silence, shocked. I’ve known Chris for years, but I’ve never met his family. Usually when we go out, he meets us in the park where we’re waiting for him. Even when I tried to surprise him on his birthday, he came over before the sun had risen. I grew so accustomed to his excuses, I stopped asking for an invite to his house years ago. I figured if he wanted me to meet his family, he’d invite me. Obviously with Savannah sidetracking my thoughts the past three weeks, I missed out on an invitation.
“When did you meet Chris’s family?” I try to keep jealousy out of my voice. My attempts are borderline. Brax, Chris and I do everything together, so I’m a little peeved I’ve been left out.
Brax laughs, seemingly amused. “Are you jealous, Ry-Ry?” He noogies my head, frustrating me even more. “You’ve got no reason to be. I didn’t meet her by choice; she’s the receptionist at the practice Ryder made me visit last week.”
“You went to see a doctor? Are you dying?” I ask, laughing. Brax loathes doctors as much as I loathe cops.
Brax punches me in the arm, holding nothing back. “You wish. Ryder makes all employees get a full blood work-up. You can’t have any nasties in your blood if you want to work at a tattoo parlor.”
The excitement in his voice shocks me. Brax never wants to do anything, much less work.
“You’re liking your punishment? I always knew there was a bit of submissiveness in you.”
He whacks me for a second time. “Says the guy pining over a taken woman.”
His snide remark winds me more than his fists. “She doesn’t love him,” I snap, feeding Brax’s arrogance with the same denial I’ve given him time and time again the past three weeks.
“Doesn’t make a difference,” Brax replies, his voice straight-up honest. “I love Savannah. She's a great girl. But she can’t keep both of you going at once. She has to pick, Ryan. You need to make her pick.”
“W
hat if she chooses him?” I ask before I can stop my words, expressing the true reason I haven’t forced her to be upfront about her relationship with Axel.
Brax stares straight into my eyes before saying, “Then she's a fucking idiot.” He drags his eyes over my head, taking in my recently trimmed hair and shaved chin. “You don’t have two nickels to rub together, and you’ll most likely be bald by the time you're forty, but you’re gonna make something of yourself. I just know it. Despite your dad’s best efforts, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Savannah knows this; she’s just too scared to admit it.”
The chance to reply to his unexpected praise is thrown out the window when the rusty hinges of my truck give out a squeak. Chris demands that Brax slide over with a jerk of his chin before he climbs inside.
“I’m not riding bitch,” Brax complains, clambering over Chris’s jean-covered thighs. “You sit in the middle. You want to get between us; well, here’s your shot.”
Chris slides into the middle seat without protest, proving Brax’s assumption is spot on. Laughing at his middle child antics despite being the oldest of his family, I pull my truck away from the curb and start our twenty-minute trip to Justine’s house, praying I’ll leave her party with more than just fond memories.
17
Ryan
“Do I look alright?”
Chris shoots me a suspicious stare before his eyes drift to Brax, who is fiddling with the collar of his shirt. He is wearing his favorite getup, a pair of light blue jeans, short-sleeve Henley shirt, and black boots. His face, which is generally hidden by a few days of scruff, is void of a single hair, and his wavy brown locks have been pulled into a low ponytail. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was dressed to impress.
“Justine,” I murmur under my breath, recalling their flirty behavior earlier today. “I thought you didn’t do relationships?”