Jagged Edge

“Nah. Didn’t work out.”

Trust Ocean to accept the fact I’m into guys and not chicks without batting an eye. Then again, he told me that he’d always known.

“You all right? You haven’t been around much lately.”

“I’m fine, I promise. I just didn’t sleep well last night.” What with said hot guy in my arms, fast asleep, his short silky hair tickling my nose, his scent mixed with my shampoo.

“Why? You’re not having nightmares again?”

I blink. “Shit, man. That was long ago.” Nightmares about the accident, and Livvy’s death. Not that I don’t still have them sometimes, but nothing like before. “I promise I’m good. Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We’ll do something together.”

“Okay. Sure.” He’s quiet for a beat. “You swear, fucking swear you’d tell me if anything was wrong, R, yeah? I’ve failed you too many times in the past. Can’t stand the thought you’re going through something bad, and I don’t know about it.”

Damn. A knot forms in my throat, and when I speak, my voice sounds weird. “I swear, man. And you never failed me. When will you believe it? You

’re the reason I’m alive, and sane.”

“I don’t know.” Still quiet. “You didn’t talk to me for years, and I just…”

Fuck.

It’s been three years since I turned eighteen and left our aunt to come live here, but Ocean still feels guilty, and that’s my fault.

“I’m sorry.” I sigh. “You did your best by me. I shouldn’t have given you hell over it all.”

And why are we doing this by phone? I should go over there, see my brother, give him a hug and go shoot pool with him and the guys.

But movement on the sidewalk catches my eye, and I freeze, recognizing one of the two silhouettes in the rain.

It’s Jason.

“I gotta go now,” I tell Ocean. “We’ll talk.”

I hang up before he can reply, throw the door open and jump out of the truck. Jason’s talking to this guy in a suit. The guy has an umbrella open over his head, but Jason’s standing in the cold rain that’s falling like razorblades on my face, stinging.

“Jason! Hey!” I call out, striding toward them, pissing mad.

Again.

The man with the umbrella turns toward me. He’s middle-aged, with a goatee, and that reminds me of Gary and the fact I never returned his calls and text messages after I ran out on him in that restaurant.

The thought isn’t enough to make me slow down my stride. “Get away from him.”

“Goddamn you, Raine.” Jason is glaring at me. The look is kind of ruined by his blue lips and the way he’s hunched over as if in pain. Probably freezing to death, and that thought gets me angrier still. “Scram.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” He licks rain off his lips, and damn if that small thing doesn’t get my dick hard. “Fuck the hell off.”

I’ve reached the two of them by now, and I put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Come with me.”

“Dammit, Raine, what part of NO don’t you get?” He’s beautiful in the rain, face pale, dark eyes brilliant, clothes molding to his strong body.

“Who the hell are you?” Goatee Guy asks, all dry and comfy under his umbrella. “Hooker here told you to fuck off.”

I run a hand over my face, flicking off rainwater. “Hooker has a name, you motherfucking—”

“Raine, shut up.” Jason elbows me in the ribs, his eyes on me—wide, dark and beautiful. “What are you doing?”