The Boy I Grew Up With

He nodded, offering a hoarse, “Okay.” His hand went to the back of my neck and he tipped me up, his mouth falling onto mine.

We made love that morning.

It was slow. It was torturous, and as he slid inside of me, it felt like the most perfect thing in the world. An almost euphoric and addictive pleasure swept through me. I ran my nails up his back, lightly, enjoying the way he shuddered under my touch. Whatever mess we were in, something good would come out of it.

I closed my eyes, turning my mind off.

I searched for Channing’s lips.

His mouth opened, his tongue meeting mine, and he kept moving inside of me.

52

Heather

Junior Year

There was a tap on my window, and I paused in changing my shirt.

I’d actually pulled the curtain down, for once. There hadn’t been much need for it since my room didn’t face Manny’s. The few customers we had couldn’t see in, and maybe it was my I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude that had me taking the small chance someone could see. Whatever. Nudity wasn’t something to be scared about, though I knew my dad and two brothers would adamantly disagree.

I had to cross the room and lift the curtain.

Channing was kneeling on the small ledge outside my window. There was hardly room for one foot to rest there, much less an entire teenaged boy.

I stood back, folding my arms over my bra, and tapped my cheek.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on. Please?” His voice was muffled through the glass.

Giving in, I unlocked the window, but I didn’t lift it. I backed up and waited. He could lift the damn window himself.

Which he did, pressing his hand flat against the glass and using that traction to raise it up. Once it moved an inch, he got underneath and pushed it the rest of the way, hoisting himself into my room.

“Thanks for that.” He shot me a dark look as he toed off his shoes.

This was our usual routine—until a few months ago.

“Stop.” My throat was full. My voice came out hoarse.

I’d seen Channing since I transferred schools, but it wasn’t the same.

He’d apologized for being an “ass.” Those were his exact words. We hadn’t said much after that, and I hadn’t run back to him with my arms open wide. I’d transferred to Fallen Crest.

Things were different. I was different.

“What?” He stopped, keeping his shoes on. He sat on the bed, but didn’t reach for me. He just sat and waited, watching me.

I felt tears and twisted away, wiping them.

I hated tears. I hated weakness. I hated feelings.

I was a laid-back smart-ass chick with everyone else, but this guy… I turned back and stared at Channing. He was still hella hot, his hair rumpled, a new tattoo peeking around his arm, but I looked at his knuckles. They were bruised and cracked open.

Leaning back against the wall, I nodded at his hands. “You’re still fighting?”

He looked down, as if he’d forgotten about them. “Oh, yeah.” He ran a hand over one of his knuckles. It looked infected, but he didn’t wince at the contact. It was as if he didn’t even feel it. Maybe he didn’t.

I scooted down to the floor, draping my arms to hang over my knees. “Are you numbing your pain? Is that what you’re doing?”

“We’re doing this shit?” He stood, raking his hand through his hair. The motion lifted his shirt. I expected to see his normal washboard abs. I saw a big fucking bruise instead.

I was right.

My heart sank. Well, not really. It had stopped doing that long ago with Channing. It shifted to the right now.

I didn’t know if it would ever stop shifting, somehow winding its way out of my body. But until then, it was still beating, and while it was inside me, I knew it still belonged to him.

“Why the hell not?” I rasped. “I keep hearing rumors about you fucking other girls.”

His eyes flashed. I saw agony, but there was a heated emotion there I couldn’t name. Regret? Remorse? Did I even want to know what that was about?

“Don’t believe everything you hear.”

I waited, but that was it. That was all he said.

I didn’t care that he said it in a gruff whisper, like those words were choking him.

I didn’t care. Nope.

But dammit. There it was. I felt it.

A hole formed in my chest, and every time I saw this guy, he could fill it or he could make it bigger. I hated him. I did. I was nothing but vulnerable and bleeding. That’s what he reduced me to.

He could heal me or ruin me. I couldn’t take anymore ‘ruining.’

I hung my head, whispering, “You have to let me go.”

I heard him sigh, then saw movement and lifted my head. He lowered himself so he was on the floor too. He remained by the bed, mirroring me with his knees up and his arms resting on top of them.

I faced him and he faced the door.

If that didn’t mean something, I didn’t know what did.

His eyes moved away from me to stare at the ground. “I’m trying to do the right thing for you, Heather. I actually am.”

I snorted. “You’re fucking it up.” I tensed, waiting for a retort.

It never came. Just a quiet, “I am toxic right now.” He growled, deep in his throat. “I fuck everything and everyone up around me, and I am trying to stay away from you. I’ve been trying for years now, doing the right thing for you, and I’m failing.” His head whipped up. He glared at me, branding me, but this time, I knew the hatred wasn’t directed at me. He hated himself.

I was just his reflection.

He fisted some of his hair. His knuckles whitened. His hand shook.

“Every time I tell myself I’m leaving you alone, I end up back here. I don’t even think about where I’m driving, and I come here. I…” He swore, low and savage, and jerked back against the bed. “This goddamn life. Why’s it so hard?”

“You have to stop,” I said quietly. I didn’t even want to hear my own words. “We have to stop.” I looked at the bed. My meaning was clear.

He didn’t respond, but his eyes closed and his head fell forward again.

My heart was ripping open, for the four-hundredth time with him. I dug my nails into my knees, just holding on.

“Okay.”

He stood, then stared at me a moment. “I do love you, Heather.”

I met his gaze, unflinching, but knowing I was crying. “That’s not our problem.”

It never had been.

53

Heather

Present day

I slipped in through the side door at Manny’s the next day for the first time in two weeks, and Ava was the first to see me. She tucked the bill she’d been carrying under her arm, turned to face me squarely, and began a slow clap.

I flushed, but couldn’t stop the stupid grin on my face. “Oh, stop.”

Brandon joined in, smirking from behind the bar.

Then another. And another.

Suki and Katrina came out of the office, already clapping. And soon the entire bar and diner sections were standing, clapping, and some were hooting. A few wolf-whistled.

I waved a hand in the air. “You’re going to make someone’s baby cry.”

On cue, a baby started screaming.

“We missed you around here.” Katrina came forward to hug me.

Suki wound her arms around me, lifting me up. She jostled me a little and grunted, “Suki missed you too. It wasn’t the same.”

Ava was next. Even Roy gave a shy wave and skirted over for a quick hug. Then he scurried back to his seat at the front counter, where he had pie in front of him. Ava returned from dropping off her customer’s check and went to refill Roy’s glass. She saw me watching them and ducked her head, the back of her neck growing red. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">