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  Killing the engine, I give her a nod and jump out to grab her door. Emma’s an angel, everything perfect and right and innocent in the world with buttery blonde hair and brown eyes so light they twinkle in the moonlight. She blinks with a nervous hesitation that brings me to my knees.

  I take her hand in mine and squeeze, tugging her and that sinful dress beside me. “The place isn’t much to look at. But we’ll be alone.”

  “Really?”

  The sweetness in her voice cuts straight through me. I’ve fucked, I’ve screwed, but this… this isn’t anything like I’ve gone near before. My heart picks up its pace. My throat tightens, and something powerful bleeds through me.

  After we push through the door, I hit a light and bring her down the short hall. Until she’s in my room, in my bed, it won’t feel real.

  Emma drops her hand from mine and locks her arm around my waist. We push through my door, and she leans against me so I can hold her close. Short, quick bursts of breaths fall from her lips, and I’m suddenly so hard I hurt. Her hands run up my chest, and the longer she touches me, the more sure she seems.

  “This is what you want, baby?” And I pray that she says yes, that she didn’t see the crap trailer and remember that I’m a nobody who hides shitty circumstances well.

  “Yes.” She nods. “More than anything.”

  That’s all I need. Our lips lock. I find the zipper on the back of her dress and drag it down. It hangs loose, and for as many times as I’ve imagined her naked, I’m barely able to control my hands slipping behind the fabric to touch bare skin.

  Her hands freeze on the buttons on my shirt. Where she was soft and hot, she’s gone rigid in my arms.

  Hugging her tight, I crush her hands between us. “Ems? You good?”

  “I…” She bites her lip nervously. “Don’t know what I’m doing.”

  So sweet. God, so sweet. “Yeah, you do. Whatever you want, you do.”

  She catches my eyes, and I see it then: the curiosity and hunger, the desperate want both of us failed to ignore.

  “Yeah? Just… take what I want?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I can promise her the world, promise to take care of her, make her feel amazing, but that’s not what she needs. Just a push of confidence is all she wants, something she thinks I have in spades. My lips touch her forehead, her cheeks. My fingers trace the contours of her back, skimming the slope of her spine. Shivers erupt under my touch, and she shimmies and lets the dress fall to the ground. Emma Kingsley is standing in my bedroom in lingerie and high heels. “Christ.”

  There’s nothing to do but drop to my knees and love her. My mouth finds her belly, and as I swirl my tongue over her stomach, I unbutton my shirt and shrug it off.

  “I like this.” Her fingers trail my bare shoulders, sliding up and into my hair. Then she reaches behind to unclasp her bra. “So much.”

  Breasts bared to me, she has no idea, no fuckin’ clue how much I like this too, how I could come right now. “You okay?”

  She nods and sighs loud enough that I feel it in my groin.

  “Good.” My chest is tight. I hook her arms, hold her to me, and pull us down, bare chest to bare chest.

  “More than okay.” Her hands rub my back, my biceps. Her hips flex for mine. Her kisses run deeper, stronger. The girl tests her teeth on me, scraping softly enough I want to pay attention but hard enough I’ll just enjoy the damn feel of it.

  “Fuck, I like that, Ems.”

  The smile on her face, the way she comes alive, means tonight’s meant to be.

  She looks away. “So do you have condoms or whatever, ’cause I’m not…”

  “Yeah.” But I have all night with her. No way could I rush this. “We’ll get there.”

  “Promise?” Her eyes are back on me, confidence on fire, arousal making her demanding.

  I nod. “But we’ve got a checklist first.”

  “We do?” She laughs.

  Nodding again, I run my fingertips from her chin to the top of her chest. “I’m going to kiss you here.” Then lower over the swell of her breast, teasing the nipple. “Here again.” Then palm the mound between her legs. “Then here.”

  She sucks in a breath. “Gray.”

  “Unless you don’t want me to.”

  Her eyes go wide. “I do.” Her face turns serious. “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “The best night of my life.”

  Shit. I’m done. I can’t stay off of her. With every kiss and touch, she laughs, whispers, and moans. It’s a deadly combination, and the sounds are mine to keep. This night, it’s the best I’ll ever have too.

  Her fingernails bite into my flesh as my fingers slide beneath her panties. She moves against me, and I’m going to lose myself if she keeps that up. But God, I want her too. I want to see her come. I want to watch it and own it, to know I did that, gave that to her.

  “Grayson.” Her breaths are ragged, and even as I work my fingers between her legs, I’m flexing my hips to her side. “Gray… God…”

  Her body clenches, her thighs press together, she juts her hips up, and I feel her climax down to my soul. It’s the only thing I can focus on. Hell, the world can stop spinning and I wouldn’t notice—

  A dark, nasty cackle comes from the hall. I jump. Emma jumps.

  “Finally nailing that tart. That’s my boy,” Pops snarls from the dim hallway.

  A chill freezes over us, and he staggers into my room.

  “Oh, God,” Emma’s embarrassed cry shreds me, and for a snap of a second, I don’t know what to do. Protect her and kill him. I’m angrier than I can fathom. But what the fuck did I think would happen? Nothing good comes in this trailer. Nothing. Ever.

  “First time with this one?” Pops falters after a bad step, and a cigarette tucked behind his ear falls to the floor.

  “What the fuck?” I growl. Never do I say a word. Never do I handle my shit with him. I’m stronger, bigger, more of a man than he’ll ever be, but because I ruined his life, I’ve taken his crap, his attacks, the vulgar nature of his existence.

  Until now.

  He hurt the one person who saves me. I toss my covers over her but stare at him. “Get out!”

  He steps closer, cigarette and whiskey stench rolling off of him. He claps off-cadence, chuckling to himself like I’m the night’s entertainment. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  Jesus. The pressure in my head nears dangerous levels, but I swallow away my reaction. That doesn’t mean I haven’t come up with a list of what should happen. Maim. Kill. Bury. “Out.”

  “You’re all the time eye-fuckin’ my women.” Pops sways in the middle of the room, and I’m on my feet. “Think you’re big man.” He coughs and slurs. “Think you can take from me, and I can’t take from you.”

  I snag her dress from the floor and toss it on the bed. “Get dressed, Ems. Take my car. Go. I’ll—”

  Pops’ drunken right hook catches me on the back of the head. I didn’t see it coming and don’t feel it now. All I can process is the look of complete disgust on her face.

  I turn to the greasy-haired bastard. “Don’t do this now.”

  Like the sleaze he is, Pops laughs. “Years, you don’t got shit to say. Get a girl in your bed, you’re a big dick with a motor mouth.”

  “Emma, come on. Take my car—” He shoves me. Humiliation curls deep in my gut. I know I deserve his anger but not like this. Not in front of Emma. I spin to him. “Enough!”

  He cough-laughs and throws a fist. I dodge it like all the others I could’ve dodged my whole life but didn’t. His drunken eyes go wide. His mouth parts enough to show he didn’t expect to miss. I never move. But tonight I do because Emma’s frozen in place.

  Her eyes say everything’s changed, that maybe she’s disappointed or disgusted. Maybe she now knows I live here with him on this side of town for a reason. Whatever’s in her mind, I’m no longer what she knows. Embarrassed fear grips me.

  “Emma.” I rea
ch for her, and she jolts back to reality.

  “Shit.” She grabs her dress, clutching it to her chest, and tears slide down her cheeks. “Shit, shoot, shit.”

  Fiery anger builds in my chest. It’s red, hot, and rabid. I can’t see, can’t breathe, and I growl toward Pops. “Get out. Get the fuck out.”

  He rushes me, hands outstretched. Enough. Fuck him. I’m done. As his fists start their drunken descent, I unleash years of fury. A roar blasts from deep within me. My blows strike with scary accuracy. Head shot. Gut shot. Right hook, left hook. Each lands with impact. Vengeance takes over my limbs. I’m not thinking or feeling. Only doing.

  I grab him and slam us against the wall, my hands around his neck. One. Two. Three. And he’s done. Out. I let go, and he drops, crumpling on the ground, and I don’t give a shit. A cold sweat’s taken over my body, and my lungs pound. Adrenaline fueled me, but now I’m starved for oxygen, for sanity.

  I glance over at my bed. Emma’s tears flow freely. Her bottom lip quivers as she stares at Pops, and then eyes track back to mine.

  Fuck me. My hands go clammy. My throat closes up. Adrenaline abates, letting my throbbing head and racing blood slow. Never in my eighteen years have I felt her scrutiny. Never. But now, there it is. Pity. Fright. Confusion.

  Unsteadily, she stands, dressing without looking at me. She presses her lips together. “Are you okay?”

  I nod, humiliation back, making me angry all over again. This is my life. That is my dad. This is where I live, where I’m trapped. As much as I hide from it at school, this is me. And I can’t escape.

  I look down at Pops, still out. Tonight was supposed to be perfect, the best night ever.

  “I have to go.” She slides away from me.

  My head drops. “I know…”

  “This is what happens. Isn’t it, Gray? The football bruises that Ryan never has. The—”

  “Don’t.” I shake my head. I can’t let her go there because I can’t go there. “Forget it.” But she deserves as much of the truth as I can stomach. “I’ve never hit him back before.” I rub my temples, still studying the carpet. “Never.”

  She gasps the softest, saddest breath. “Really?”

  Ha. There’s a fucked-up logic I could never explain.

  “You’re twice his size. Why?” She bites her bottom lip. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to—”

  “Stop.” She’s pitying me. God, fuck me, she’s trying to map out some life solution for me. “You have to get out.” I choke on the shame. “Please. He wasn’t supposed to be here.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Her shoulders slump, and her chin’s down.

  Slowly, I shift and shake my head, a complete disgrace. “Take my car home. Give Ryan the key. We’ll just forget tonight…” Forget us because I’ll never be able to face her again. All over, I’ve gone from angry to embarrassed.

  Pops stirs on the floor. I’m not going to be here when he wakes up, and neither is she. “Go, Ems.”

  Tears brim in her eyes. We’re breaking apart before we ever started. Part of me wants to beg her to forget this side of me. Another part wants to rejoice that someone knows how deeply I hurt, but I shake my head. “It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s…”

  I can’t sugarcoat an explanation. I grab my keys, force them into her hand, then drag Emma to the front door of the trailer I’ve never been able to escape.

  “Please don’t—”

  “Just go.”

  She nods and obeys, leaving in silence. The front door slaps shut, and I punch the wall. I’m angry. Heartbroken. Devastated. And completely alone.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Grayson

  Only a few lights shine down, and sweat beads down my back. I couldn’t stay home but had nowhere to go except here, the batting cages where the owner lets me have access anytime day or night. The lights are always on and the gate is always open. It’s just me, the ball, and the bat pushing toward midnight.

  It’s been hours since Emma left my place and I grabbed the keys to Pops’s truck. If I stop pushing myself, I’ll have to deal with the fallout from tonight. Pops is gonna kill me. He would even if I hadn’t borrowed his truck while he was sawing Zs on the floor. Emma’s never going to see me the same way. And me. If I look in a damn mirror, I’ll be sick. I wanted to leave the second school’s over. Running away from my past is an alright way to go once everyone else heads to college. But now I need a plan.

  Clicks pop from down range, and the mechanical arm launches another baseball toward me. I’m past even a decent form. I’m exhausted. My muscles scream. One ball after the next, I can’t stop swinging, sick over the future, knowing that I had the world fooled until tonight.

  Finally nailing that tart. Pops’s words reverberate in my head. Another ball flies. Swinging, I embrace the burn in my back, the ache in my arms. A satisfying crack echoes as it flies, another home run that doesn’t go anywhere.

  The clicks and pops signal another one inbound.

  I need to talk to Ryan. He always trusted me with Emma, would never have a problem with me being with her. There’s no way he’d think I could hurt her. Because I couldn’t. I can’t. But I did. Fuck me, I did.

  The Kingsleys are the only family I’ve had, even if they aren’t really mine. I shake my head, grinding my hands on the grip. A ball flies. Crack. Another one heading for the fence. I should text Ryan. If Emma showed up at home in tears with my car, he’s gonna have a problem with me. Their parents will too. My stomach drops. None of that matters, though, not when she’s been the only thing that’s allowed me to survive, and now she’s gone.

  All because of Pops. And Mom. Shit, what would my mom do? What would she think? Why couldn’t this have been better for her? For us? My mind churns.

  I can picture my mom’s face, her voice. Vividly. Just another one. Even when I was a kid, her perfect make-up and slurred words confused me. She was so pretty. So lost. I want to throw up. God, I can’t shake her eyes on me in my memories. I’m going fuckin’ nuts. Everyone’s in my head: Pops, Ryan, and now Mom. Just another pill, Gray-baby. It’ll be okay. It’ll always be okay with just one more.

  Fuck! It’s not okay. It was never okay. Why did she burden me with this? Rage blinds me, and I throw the bat, screaming into the night. The clink and clash of it hitting the fence does nothing to reduce the pounding in my head. I tear my hands into my hair, and it’s too short, too tight to grab. I’m seconds away from collapsing, from a complete nervous breakdown.

  “Take a breath, son.”

  Whirling around, I’m sweat-drenched and face-to-face with our ROTC adviser, Marcus Waylon. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Chaperoning that dance, saw the shit with Snyder. Then I drive by, and you’re out here, alone?” He clucks his tongue. “Had to pull in.”

  Waylon isn’t much older than me. He maybe graduated a few years ago. He didn’t do college. Did do the military. He’s here not because he wants to be anywhere near this side of the United States, but because he’s on Uncle Sam’s payroll, and they put him here in Virginia as an Army recruiter.

  He walks closer. I blink, searching for words, gasping for breaths. Shit knows what he must think about me right now. I flex my aching fingers. “What’d you want, sir?”

  He takes another step closer and glares. “Better question, Ford, is what’re you doing?”

  Trying to outrun my nightmares, hide from my pain. I take a deep breath. My pulse is thumping in my temples, my neck. Trying to slow my heart rate, I make him wait a minute. “Working out. Hitting the cages.”

  “Baseball season’s over.” Waylon’s arms cross. “Try again.”

  Avoiding the two people I can’t control, Pops and Emma. “Blowing off steam.”

  He nods. “I talked to Coach. He said—”

  C’mon on already. What is it with tonight? “That prick? Seriously. That goddamn prick thinks—”

  “You don’t know what he thinks.” Waylon grabs and tosses my ignored bottle of
water.

  I catch it and guzzle half, thinking of how both Snyder and Waylon must think of me. I know what the world sees. I let them see it: good looks, good grades, good at sports. Package trifecta. I get it. But, man, they’re wrong. Everyone’s wrong. “Coach thinks Emma isn’t—”

  “I know what’s going on with you at home.”

  Well, fuck me. My hand crushes the plastic bottle. “Yeah. Right.” I scuff my shoe into the dirt. “Of course, you do.”

  Waylon ignores my attitude. “It’s easy enough to figure out once you get past all your cocky bravado.”

  “Easy. Right.” First Snyder, now Waylon, both guys I would’ve thought would be on my side. I’m just as smart as Pops thinks I am. All the voices, doubts, memories, they start to choke me again. Everyone’s in my head. Pops. Emma. Ryan. Mom. Snyder. Waylon. It’s too much. My sore fingers knead my neck, locking in my hair. I can’t catch my breath. The pressure’s too much on my lungs. In my head. My throat’s closing up.

  “Take a breath.” Waylon steps closer. “Calm down.”

  Shit, I can’t calm down, can’t make it stop. “I need to get out of here.”

  “Where you going to go?”

  Where am I going tonight? Not home. Not the Kingsleys’, not after everything with Emma. My chest hurts again. A virgin. She’s my virgin. She’s my world, my heart.

  I can’t believe how things fell apart. I ruined it—ruined us—and I’m not even sure I can survive the next ten minutes, let alone the rest of school. Emma’s the only thing that saves me. Shit, I can’t breathe. That look on her face? My dream, my savior, I’ve lost her tonight, and my heart’s going to explode.

  A hand claps on my back. I startle, my head shoots up and I’m dizzy with panic.

  Waylon’s face is serious. “Let’s go.”

  That’s all he says before he turns and heads towards the parking lot. I have no reason to go with him, none to stay at the batting cages, and nowhere else to go. A lonely exhaustion hugs me, and unable to see anything but pain, humiliation, and desperation, I follow.