Authors: Liz Reinhardt
I find his lips with mine, and we fall back on the bed. I know it's getting late. We both have community service in the morning.
Gramma
probably called to check on me. I should be headed home.
But all I can concentrate on is the feel of him, Winch, the guy I haven't been able to shake out of my head for days, kissing me and telling me how much I mean to him, how he wants to hold my h
and and
plunge off the edge of the highest, scariest cliff I’d ever seen
.
I’m so ready to take that flying leap
with him
, and I shouldn’t be.
I really shouldn’t be.
His hands are warm and big on
the length of
my legs, along the waistband of my barely-there thong and over the skin I'm so glad I shaved extra smooth. His breathing is harsh and sharp, and I love the things he murmurs while he touches me:
gorgeous, beautiful, Evan, mine.
The entire night is about to implode in a way he says we're not going toward but I want,
when there's a crash from the room next door.
Winch's hand stops right where it is, his fingers tangled around the lacy waistband
of my thong, ready to yank it
down. He squeezes the skin at my hip and, when he looks up, his eyes are soft with apology.
"I have to check on Remington."
"Of course.
Go ahead."
I pull the straps of my dress up again and try not to sigh when he buttons up his shirt, covering all the gorgeous expanse of
his chest
,
and walks with quick, decisive direction out of the room.
Then I listen.
I hear what sounds like someone crying, low, keening moans and loud, choked sobs. Those are offset by the tenor of Winch's voice. I don't know what exact words he's saying, but his voice is calm,
slow, in-
command.
Winch watches out for the people he cares about.
The minutes tick by, and when he finally comes back, his face is lined and grim.
"I should get you home. My brother needs me."
He bites the words off as if he's angry at them.
"It's no problem." I stand up and attempt to smooth the wrinkles out of my dress with the flats of my hands. "I need to get back anyway. My grandparents will be waiting."
For a split second, life tilts back, and I don't know where to put my hands or how to hold myself in front of him, and it seems highly probable that everything we went through in the last few hours was a trick of my socially-starved imagination.
Then he closes the gap between us and pulls me into his arms. His mouth relays a trail of
kisses down along my hairline.
"I wish I could stay
with you tonight, Evan. I feel like I might fuck this up again if I don't hold onto you."
"You won't."
I let the words slide out with a lazy cool I don't feel at all.
"Can I call you?" He runs his hands over my arms and squeezes at random intervals, like he's checking to be sure I'm really in front of him. "Feel free to tell me no. It'll probably be really late."
"Oh, trust me, I
have no problem at all telling yo
u no." His smile makes my heart buzz
like a hive full of
bees. "But I don't want to tell you 'no' tonight. I'll sleep with my phone under my pillow, like some sappy lovesick girl."
His smile widen
s and sweetens his entire face,
a spoonful of honey in a tall glass of iced tea.
"I can't lie.
I'm loving
the idea of you getting all sappy and lovesick over me."
His arms twine around my waist and noose me tight. My face is tilted to his, lips ready, tongue ready, all ready for him when another low, long moan rips through the house like a horror movie ghost's.
"You should check on your brother, and then we can go."
I give him one last kiss before I watch him walk down the hall and to the darkened bedroom, his face grim as a reaper's.
Evan was so cool about
Remington,
I actually started to think I could pull this whole thing off.
We both went to our community service tired as hell, but the dark circles under her eyes only made her more gorgeous to me. They were there because she spent time with me. In my bed, in my arms, on the phone for a good three hours talking about a thou
sand things, and the funniest part
is, by the time I was so
zombified
the phone was slipping from my hand, it still felt like there were so many more things we needed to say to each other.
But I had to ditch her after
community
service for family time, and I could tell she wasn't happy about the fact that we weren't going to get to spend any time together again.
Which made me so damn happy on one hand, and made me consider fratricide on the other.
Fratricide with my bare fucking hands.
As the endless afternoon wears on, m
y mother won't leave me alone about my 'mood.'
"What's wrong with you? You've had that face on this whole time." She sloshes some of my beer when she hands me the bottle.
"Nothing's wrong." I take a l
ong pull.
“Seriously, Mama.
Same face as always."
"Not the same as always." She hands beers to my brother, who's already half in the bag, my father, my uncles, my grandfather, all leaned forward, practically falling off the edge of their seats as they scream at the UFC fight on TV. "You haven't smiled in I don't know how long. I can't remember the last time.
Tobar
, do you remember the last time Winchester smiled?"
My father looks up from the fight and pinches my mom on the ass. She squeals and he smiles at her, then frowns in my general direction.
"Sure.
Just the other day.
He was wearing that pink bonnet with all the bows on it, and he
smiled so pretty, I wanted to take a picture. Look, the boy says he's fine,
Jazmin
. I'm sure he's fine. Leave him the hell alone."
He pats her backside and refocuses on the game.
My mother clucks her tongue and scratches my head with her long, sparkly silver fingernails. Pissed as I am, I love when my mom scratches my head like I'm a kid again.
"It's not like you. You're usually happier."
"I think you're thinking of Remy," I gripe, eyeing my brother, who's sitting on the couch with a boozy, oblivious smile
on his face
while our cousin shows him some stupid card trick he just learned.
Remy looks up at the sound of his name, and his happy smile skids a little. "What's that?"
"Your brother!"
Mama's voice rises to compete with the jubilant yells of the guys as the pummeling on the screen gets more intense. "He doesn't look happy."
Remy squints at me. "Same ugly face as always." He shrugs and adds, "I think he's just lovesick."
I grit my teeth. This is payback for the other night. Undeserved on my fucking part, since I mopped up his puke until his guts were empty, but that's another thing with my brother. When he gets blitzed, he conveniently forgets all the stupid shit he does.
Though his memory for my fuck-ups is totally sharp.
Mama leans closer, her dark hair falling over my shoulder.
"You could have asked
Lala
. I know this is a guys' thing, but she would have been so welcome to stay with me and the girls."
One unintentional dickhead
comment,
and this is my punishment? I glare at Remy, who blinks with slow, unconcerned triumph.
"Mama, c'mon.
Lala
and I are done. How many times do
I have to tell you that?
Remy’
s just being a jackass."
The slap on the back of my head is swift and brutal as always, despite how soft and small her hands look.
"I'll wash your mouth out in that
sink,
I don't care how big you think you are. Don't use that language about your brother."
My cousins snicker and I rub the egg I know is already forming on the back of my head.
"Sorry, Mama," I growl.
Thank God, she moves back to the kitchen, where I can hear all my aunts and sisters and female cousins laughing and screeching.
Lala
always fit in perfectly. She was usually the one who brought me my game beers, and sometimes she even perched on the edge of my chair and watched the fight, commenting coolly now and then so she could soak up the approving smiles of the other guys.
I have no idea if Evan would fit in, and I don't really want to find out. I want her to be separate from this part of my life. I want Evan to be all
mine
. And I don't want my family passing judgment or making comparisons.
I count down until the fight is over, then all through dinner. It's so loud and chaotic at the table
,
nobody notices how quiet I am.
Except
Benelli
.
She parks
herself at my side, all ninety-eight intimidating pounds of relentless sister, and, just like I thought,
Lala
called and
outed
me, which put
s
Benelli
in high gear.
"
Lala
was pretty upset last night." Her voice is low, her eyes on her
pecsenye
, this traditional pork dish every girl in my family learns how to make when she's in, like, kindergarten.
I wonder if Evan cooks.
"Winch?"
My sister's voice interrupts my thoughts. "She said you were with some girl from town."
I scoop up a big mouthful of food so I can get my anger under control before
I
answer. My sister's long, girly eyelashes bat fast, making those blue eyes of hers look all wide and innocent, and I want to tell her that she can save herself the trouble of attempting to use them on me. We've been close since we were kids, and I know every damn trick in her book. None of them work on me anymore.
"I have no idea how
Lala
noticed anything. She spent the night dry-humping some professor."
This time when
Benelli's
eyes go wide, it's because I shocked her, not because she's trying to manipulate me.
But
Lala
and my sister have some kind of girl treaty going. She brushes her hair back behind her ears and dives in for another round.
"She misses you, Winch. She knows she messed up, and she wants to make things right. I don't understand how a few weeks ago you could have been so in love with her, and now, over nothing, she's just cut out of your life?"
Benelli
grabs my hand and squeezes it hard, all her sharp little glittery rings biting into my skin. "You guys are meant for each other
. Don't give up on what you
had."
I shove my plate away, my already crappy appetite completely gone.
"You have no idea what the hell
Lala
and
I had. And what we had is over
anyway, permanently. No questions."
I'd excuse myself, but there are too many damn people here for me to make a scene, so I sit it out while
Benelli
alternates between scowling at me and texting under the table.
Good. Maybe she's telling
Lala
I'm an asshole and she should keep her distance.
As soon as I can, I grab my keys and start to head out. My dad stops me with one strong hand on my shoulder.
"You headed by the shop? I need something out of the safe."
"I can go if you need."
That's what I'm officially around for.
Whatever anyone needs.
I move to the driveway and my dad follows, I know so he can sneak a cigarette while my mother’s busy cleaning up after dinner.
My father was always a giant in my eyes. Now I have two inches on him and his sagging stomach slows him down a little. It's not as bad as the feeling I get when I'm around my brother, but I hate that the giants of my youth are shrinking.
He squints at me. "Look, I don't want to nag at you. Your mother does enough of that, God bless her. Is everything alright?"
I nod. "Everything's fine," I lie.
"If you were thinking about getting a ring for
Lala
, use my guy on Bleak. He's got a hard nose, but he owes me a favor." My father rubs his hand over his chin in thought. "If you need a raise--"