Dulce

12

Iwait at the side of the road after traipsing my way through the woods and wonder what the fuck I’m doing.

This is a bad idea. In fact, I’ve bypassed bad ideas at this stage and moved on to colossal fuck-ups, but even so, I don’t slip back into the tree line and head home.

I have a few hours, hopefully, before anyone realizes I’m not there. Fingers crossed, I should be back before then.

A sleek black Maserati heads toward me, its high beams making me wince as it slows. My heart inexplicably starts to thump harder in my chest.

It’s not for Griff. He’s just a boy I used to know. Just another job I walked away from. I haven’t thought about him once.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

The car stops, the engine running the only sound for a moment before the driver’s side door swings open and a jean-clad leg steps out.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts as Griff climbs from the car. His dark eyes take me in from ankle to face, where he holds my gaze. That one look has enough intensity to bring me to my knees.

His dimples are absent right now, and his dark hair is messy, as if he’s been running his fingers through it, which I know he does when he’s agitated.

I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want to beg him to forgive me, but I can’t.

“What took you so long?” I snark, but it comes out as a whisper.

At the sound, he moves, and he moves fucking fast. One minute he’s watching me from beside the driver’s side door, and the next he’s in front of me, his hand in my hair, his lips rough and demanding on mine while he twirls me around and pins me to his car.

I think of fighting him for all of two seconds. Instead, I melt like a fucking girl. I just let him smash straight through my defenses.

His hands slide under my jacket. Finding my stomach bare beneath it, he rips his lips from mine, panting heavily as he pulls back and looks at my body as if just now realizing what I’m wearing.

“What the fuck? Do you know how dangerous it is to run in the middle of the night?”

I don’t know why those words put me over the edge, but they do. Right there and then, in the arms of a boy I royally screwed over, I cry.

I never cry. I’m a motherfucking Candy girl, but everything is a mess, and I’m so scared I’m making everything worse and—

“Jesus, Everly.” He yanks me to him and holds me tight. I breathe him in, gripping his jacket as if it were the only thing holding me up.

“What happened? Who do I need to kill?”

I sob at that and look up at his handsome face.

“Just like that?”

“For you? Yeah, just like that.”

I feel more tears tracking down my face, but I don’t look away from him as electricity crackles between us.

Suddenly, he dips and scoops me up, carrying me around to the passenger side. The door opens abruptly, making me jump.

“Shh…it’s okay, it’s just Hunter.”

Hunter Grant, Griffen’s best friend and the boy who I never did win over. “Here, I’ve got her,” he tells Griffen, who hands me over to him.

I forgot the car only has two seats.

Hunter pulls me tightly against him and tucks my head under his chin as Griff runs around to the driver’s side and climbs in.

Hunter rubs his hand up and down my arm in a soothing gesture. I don’t ask him why he’s being nice to me. I just soak it up like a sponge, tired of being on guard all the time. I haven’t recovered from my last spell of being undercover here, and now I’m treading water just to stay afloat.

I close my eyes and sink into him, exhaustion tugging at me. I just need to rest. I need a few minutes to get my head together, that’s all.

Flashes of the girl being carried away and me useless to do anything about it make me feel impotent. What’s the point of doing this to myself if I’m not even making a difference?

With a sigh, I give in to the dark, letting the hum of the engine and the heat of Hunter’s body lull mine to sleep.

When I wake up, I don’t know where I am, but I know I’m not alone. I squeeze my eyes shut and grind my teeth. It’s not the first time I’ve woken up in a strange place with a strange man, but right now, the thought of it makes me feel sick to my stomach.

“I know you’re awake, Ev.”

I recognize Griff’s voice and relax in an instant.

“Griff.” I open my eyes and swallow, and see him watching me with a worried look on his face.

Movement behind me has me freezing.

“It’s just Hunter, remember? He carried you in here and, well, you refused to let him go.” He smirks as Hunter’s hand slides over my hip and tugs me back toward him.

My eyes widen at Griff’s chuckle. Well, this is new. I assumed Hunter wouldn’t piss on me if I were on fire.

“We need to talk.”

My eyes close at Griff’s words. I know I owe him an explanation, but what the fuck can I say?

Pain lances across my heart as I swallow hard. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both?” I sigh and blow out a frustrated breath. “I’d love nothing more than to just spill my guts and let everything bleed out, but I can’t. There is more going on than what happened between you and me. More than that, though, if you knew who I am, what I’ve done? You wouldn’t be lying there beside me looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I matter?” I choke out, feeling Hunter’s hand tighten on my hip, letting me know he’s awake.

“You fucking matter to me,” Griff snarls, making my eyes well again, but I fight the tears back this time.

“If you knew me at all, Griff, you wouldn’t like me. If you saw me in the street, knowing what I’d done, you’d turn and walk the other way. And you should. That’s the smart thing to do.”

“Well, I was never that smart, Ev.” He leans forward and strokes his thumb over my cheek before dipping his head and kissing me softly.

I whimper, but I kiss him back, gently and full of promise. There is nothing empty or duplicitous about it. Instead of feeling hollow, it fills me up, but I know it won’t last. It can’t.

I pull my mouth free and run my fingers over his lips.

“I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I needed someone, and you were the first person I thought of. I know it was selfish, but—”

He cuts me off, his lips on mine again for a moment, before he pulls back with a sigh.

“We need to talk. But first, you need to eat.”

“Griff,” I plead, but he climbs from the bed, clad only in a pair of black boxers, and I swallow my tongue.

He grins at the effect he has on me before grabbing a T-shirt from the chair beside the bed and tugging it on, along with a pair of faded blue jeans.

“Take a shower if you want. Hunter will show you where it is, but don’t take too long. You still like French toast?”

Everly Sinclair likes French toast, but it’s never been one of my favorites. It was just part of my persona.

“How about breakfast sandwiches? I’m in the mood for bacon, eggs, and lots of cheese.”

Hunter speaks up from behind me, his hand squeezing my hip.