Untouchable (Unstoppable 1)

He nodded, glancing away.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly, gathering the courage to slide down onto the bench, leaving a good chunk of space between us.

There was something unfamiliar about this Reno, this subdued, silent Reno, that I wasn’t sure how to handle. He looked the same as ever, same soulful eyes and angled face, same dark hair, longer on top and swept a little to the side, begging me to run my fingers through it. Same hard body packed with lean muscle. But he seemed fragile somehow, a quality I never would have associated with him before. Amongst all these people here to celebrate him, he’d found a corner all alone out here in the dark. I doubted his family was far from his thoughts. I doubted they ever left them.

Without looking at me, he said, “You should leave.”

The quiet request hung in the air between us. Placing the untouched beer on the ground by my feet, I planted both palms face down on the bench either side of my thighs, and pivoted until my body angled toward him, keeping half my face in shadow.

“That’s what you want?” I shivered as a chill that had nothing to do with the weather washed through me.

He said nothing, staring off to the side, but tension marked every part of his body. Glancing down, I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip and considered my options. He didn’t want me here, or maybe it was that he didn’t want to want me here. I shouldn’t have come. I’d known it all along. Inhaling a steadying breath through my nose, I swung my legs lightly back and forth, feet crossed at the ankles, and dragged the soles of my shoes over the loose gravel once, twice. Lifting a hand, I rubbed two fingers over my forehead and pressed my thumb into my temple to ease the building pressure.

It was so tempting to yell and shout, demand he quit pushing me away, that he let me in. But trying to force him had gotten me nowhere, less than nowhere, and looking over at his hunched form, I couldn’t bring myself to raise my voice. Leaning in without thinking, I brushed my lips against the side of his jaw, letting them linger a little too long as I savored the feel of his scruff against my skin. When I inhaled, his scent filled my nostrils. His body tensed, a low rumble sounding in his chest.

Pulling back reluctantly, I whispered, “Okay... I’ll go.”

I rose to my feet and took two steps before I stopped, my back to him, and said quietly, “Happy birthday tomorrow, Maddox.”

Then I walked away.

Twenty-Eight

Riley

A couple of hours after leaving the party, a muffled bang against the side of my trailer had me lifting my head from the books spread out over my grey patchwork bedspread, my brows dipping low. I tapped the screen on my phone, noting it was only eleven forty-five. Way too early for my mom. Tugging the pen from between my teeth, I pushed off the bed and headed for the door as it rattled with the force of several loud knocks. Lifting onto my tiptoes, I peered through the window. My breath caught in my throat and my pulse kicked into high gear when Reno's face came into view. Flicking the lock without pause, I pulled the door back.

“Hey,” I said.

Reno swayed a little, shifting to lean his weight against the side of the trailer as he focused his gaze on the toe of his shoe trailing a pattern in the dry mud, before kicking a lump of stone into the shadows. Silently resting my cheek against the edge of the door, I bit my lip as I waited, taking in the hard line of his jaw and sharp cut of his cheekbones outlined in the moonlight. My fingers ached with the need to trace them, to touch him.

Eventually, his head lifted, and slightly unfocused chocolate brown eyes met mine. A myriad of emotions—too many to decipher and each battling for precedence—swirled in their depths. Reno’s hand rose slowly, catching a swaying lock of my hair between his fingers and rubbing softly. His brows came together, eyes narrowing.

“Your hair looks nice,” he murmured, voice low, before his lids squeezed closed. He slumped a little farther against the aluminium exterior of the trailer, his face sloping closer to mine as his expression turned pained. “Why do you have to be so goddamn beautiful, Ri?”

He let out a groan, the sound a combination of frustration and desperation. The strands of my hair slipped from his grasp as his arm slumped heavily to his side. I swallowed roughly, not sure what to say. He twisted, pressing his forehead into the aluminium.

“Fuck, I miss you,” he said, voice anguished. He lifted his tortured gaze to mine. “I miss you. So fucking much, it hurts.”

His harsh declaration ignited a small flame inside

my chest, a tiny flicker of warmth that spread cautiously outward. I inched closer to him, bridging the distance between us until our faces were almost touching.

“I’m right here,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

Our gazes caught and held, his tormented.

“Then why do you feel so fucking far away?”

His words tore at my insides, stabbed at my heart. Twin tears rolled down my cheeks as my head swayed left to right. He straightened, hands reaching for me and cupping my face, even as his brow creased at the sight, like he’d had no intention of doing it.

“Do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to stay away from you?” His thumbs brushed across my cheeks, tracing over the trails of moisture that coated my skin.

“I never asked you to,” I said, my voice a choked breath. My heart thumped wildly against my rib cage at his touch, at the heated look in his eyes and the depth of emotion in his words. “I don’t want you to.”

He watched me for a few seconds, gaze running over every inch of my face, before his head lowered and his hands dropped from me. He took a step back.

“I have to.”