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by Ashley Jade
Until a few minutes later when I hear some rustling against the house, followed by a low, “Ouch.” And, “Goddammit.”
Instantly, I bolt up in bed…and silently curse myself for leaving my window open.
I’m about to run out and get my dad, but a tall figure wearing a hooded sweatshirt climbs through my window.
A scream lodges in my throat. As if the night couldn’t get any worse, I’m about to be murdered in my own bed.
Screw that.
I pull out the bat I keep underneath my bed and raise it over my head.
“Jesus. It’s me,” the figure who sounds a lot like Cole utters. “Put down the bat.”
I must be having a nightmare.
Unfortunately, a very real-life Cole lowers the hood of his sweatshirt and walks over to me.
I do put down the bat, but only so I can push him. He’s literally the last person in the world I want to see, so the fact he’s even here right now is absurd.
“Get the hell out—”
His hand slams over my mouth and he backs me against the wall. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be.” He holds my gaze. “I’m sorry.”
He’s unbelievable.
If he thinks crawling through my window in the middle of the night is going to earn my forgiveness, he’s out of his damn mind.
I remove his hand. “Leave. Now.”
“No. Not until I know you don’t hate me.”
I don’t hate him.
I regret him. Big difference.
“Fine, I don’t hate you. Now go.”
“No.”
“Then I guess I’m calling the cops.”
I head for the door, but his arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me until my back is flush against him. “I fucked up, Bible Thumper.”
At least that we can agree on.
“You’re the last person in the world I want to hurt,” he rasps.
“And yet, you did it anyway,” I whisper, my chest caving in. “There’s no coming back from this. What’s done is done.” I hate the way my voice cracks. “Go back to Casey.”
“I don’t want her.”
I open my mouth to tell him he obviously doesn’t want me either considering what he did, but his lips hover over my ear and he whispers, “I passed out in the hot tub. I don’t remember her climbing in. Hell, I don’t remember anything that happened after I found the bottle of Jack Daniels. But I didn’t fuck her.”
“Gee,” I scoff. “Sounds awfully familiar. How am I supposed to believe you when I know for a fact we hooked up and you can’t remember that either?”
I try to get out of his hold, but he tightens his arms around me. “Because I’ve never felt about her the way I feel about you. Or anyone else for that matter.”
“You sure have a funny way of showing it, Covington.”
“Give me another chance, Church.”
“I did. Look how well that turned out.”
“You want me to beg?”
“No. I want you to leave.”
“Get down on my hands and knees and apologize?”
“Don’t bother.”
His voice drops to a whisper. “Tell me what to do to fix this, Sawyer.”
“You can’t.” I hate the tears stinging my eyes. The pain punching my heart. How I still care about him even though he hurt me so damn much. “It’s over. The deal between us is off.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You humiliated me in front of everyone. Not just with Casey, but with all the hurtful, mean things you said. Maybe the other girls you’ve been with have no self-respect, but I do.”
“Let me fix it.”
“You can’t.”
“I can try.”
My heart slams against my ribcage. “Why, so you can fuck up again? Do you think I’m made of steel, Colton? How many times do you think I can survive you hurting me like this?”
“That was the last time.” He skims his nose along my neck, inhaling me. “I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’m keeping this one. I don’t care what it takes or what I have to do. We are not fucking over.”
“You’re right,” I choke out. “We’re not over.” Turning my head, I look up at him. “We can’t be over when we never even started.”
“Give me one more chance,” he growls.
My heart twists, wanting so desperately to give him what he’s asking for.
“Why won’t you just leave?”
I can’t think clearly when he’s holding me like I’m his lifeline and asking for a second chance.
“Because losing you isn’t an option for me.”
He sounds so convincing. Like he actually gives a shit about me instead of losing his million-dollar car.
“Then you should have thought about that before you got drunk and destroyed us.”
Us. God, I’m so stupid. There was never an us.
“You’re right,” he agrees. “But I wasn’t thinking. I was…Stone…” His voice trails off. “It doesn’t fucking matter.”
Let me be the judge of that. “What did he do?”
Whatever it is, it won’t take away what Cole did. But at least it will give me some kind of understanding as to his state of mind before he decided to pour gasoline on this thing between us and light it on fire.
“I told you, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is getting you back.”
“Getting me back so you don’t lose the bet,” I grit through my teeth.
“No. But if that’s what you really think, it’s fine.” He releases his hold on me. “Because I’m gonna prove you wrong.” The determination in his voice is unwavering. “I will fix this, Sawyer.”
Good Lord. I’ve never met anyone more stubborn in my life.
There’s no point in arguing with him anymore. It’s just easier to let him think what he wants so he’ll leave.
“Fine. Whatever.” I point to the window. “Go.”
Chapter 51
Sawyer
On Monday my locker was filled with long stem roses.
Tuesday, it was five pounds of chocolates.
Which of course were my favorite kind and so hard to throw away.
Which I did after Oakley grabbed a heaping handful of them, that is.
Oakley rubs his hands. “What do you think it will be today?”
I’m not sure, but I really hope it’s not a food item again. I’ve managed to lose another five pounds and I don’t want to be tempted.
With a grunt, I open my locker.
Dammit. Cole knows my weakness.
Oakley raises an eyebrow. “Is that—”
“Nick Jonas,” I sigh. “Sure is.”
And he’s autographed. Damn him. Damn him straight to hell.
Cole, not Nick. Nick is perfect.
But just like the rest of the stuff Cole tries to buy me off with…Nick too, must go.
“There’s an envelope,” Oakley notes.
I hand it to him. “Knock yourself out.”
He happily opens it…then pouts. “It’s just some concert tickets.” He shrugs. “Front row, though.”
I actually whimper.
It’s going to be so fucking hard to throw these in the garbage.
“You have to do it for me,” I tell him. “I don’t have the strength.”
He snorts. “Happily.”
“Wait.” I pet the glossy picture. “Don’t hurt him too much. He’s so pretty.”
Oakley rolls his eyes. “You know you could just accept his gifts…and then, you know…accept his apology and give him another chance.”
“Oh, God. Not you too.” It’s bad enough I have Bianca pleading his case every time she sees me, now Oakley?
He shrugs innocently. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I’ve never seen him so miserable.”
“Good. Now he knows how it feels.”
“He swore off drinking for the rest of his life.”
“Great. He s
hould swear off being an asshole for the rest of his life too.”
“Sawyer, he didn’t mean to hurt you. He has a lot of issues.”
And if only he’d tell me those issues and help me understand why he is the way he is, and why he does the things he does…I’d think about giving him the second chance he wants.
But he won’t.
Because that’s not Cole.
“The fact that you know his issues and I don’t is a big part of the problem.” I say a silent goodbye to Nick. It sucks our time together was so short. “He can’t buy me off. If he wants me to accept his apology, he has to give me a reason to…and the only way he can do that is by giving me the real him. Because that’s the only Cole I’m interested in forgiving.” I slam my locker door shut. “As far as I’m concerned, Lucky Seven can go fuck himse—”
“I take it you didn’t like the concert tickets?” Cole questions behind me.
I glare at him. “Stop with the presents. Presents aren’t what I want.”
“Then what do you want?”
“The fact that you still don’t know is just...sad.”
I try to walk away, but he blocks me. “Sawyer.”
“Get out of my way.”
Out of my heart.
Chapter 52
Cole
“Okay, but if I let you go to class, you’re having lunch with me.”
Those baby brown eyes harden. “No.”
“Dinner then.”
She makes a face. “Not happening.”
Giving her my sexiest smile, I run a finger down her arm. “Dessert?”
Her nostrils flare. “Move.”
“Fine.” Leaning in, I whisper, “Go to class, Bible Thumper. But this is far from over.”
She mumbles something I don’t catch under her breath.
I wait until she’s halfway down the hall. “One more thing, Sawyer.”
She stops walking. I can practically see the anger rolling off her. “What?”
“You look beautiful today.”
Truth is she always looks beautiful, but I want everyone to hear me say it.
She quickly scurries inside a classroom.
Casey and Morgan exchange a glance as they pass me.
“Wow, someone’s whipped,” Morgan says.
“He’s only whipped because he made a bet with someone on the football team.” Casey looks at me. “As soon as he’s done with the fat pig, he’ll come crawling back.”
The fuck I will.
“Don’t hold your breath, you rancid cunt.”
Shooting me a dirty look, they both run off.
“Today went better than yesterday,” Oakley notes. “At this rate, you should have your girl back in say, ten to twenty years.” He slaps my shoulder. “Give or take.”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
I’ve already done everything I can think of. All the typical shit girls love.
To be honest, I really thought the Nick Jonas bullshit was gonna be a slam dunk, but evidently not.
“That’s because you’re not paying attention,” Oakley says as he starts walking down the hall.
He motions for me to join him. “Stop thinking about the three Ps and start listening to what your girl is saying.”
“What she’s saying is to leave her alone,” I bark. “And that’s not happening. Ever.”
“Relax, killer. What I meant is, what her heart is saying. Chicks have this weird way of telling you what they need without really telling you…you feel me?”
No. I fucking don’t. “How so?”
“When you snuck into her room. What was the last thing she said to you before you left?”
“She told me to go.”
He shakes his head. “Before that.”
“That I only wanted her back because of the bet.”
“And what did you say to that?”
“I told her it wasn’t true and I would fix it.”
“Do you really think you’ve done that so far?”
I glare at him. “Obviously not. But between the flowers, the candy—”
“Look, the solution to your problem is a very simple one, my friend.” Walking backward, he opens his arms wide. “You have to give her something real.”
Chapter 53
Sawyer
I press down on the ivory keys, filling the church with the chords from “Counting Blue Cars” by Dishwalla.
It’s a new one for me, but the second Dylan played it, I fell in love.
I live for the kind of music that makes you ponder the meaning of life while making your soul feel alive.
Which is exactly why I decided to strip it down. Not only does it heighten the emotion of the song, it makes it easier to soak in each word.
Doing a quick glance around to make sure the church is empty, I open my mouth.
Normally it takes me weeks to memorize sheet music, but not this time. This time it’s as though every note comes straight from my heart.
I close my eyes, letting the song take me away.
When I reach the chorus, I hold nothing back. My vibrato emanates from the tips of my toes, reverberating through the walls.
“Jesus Christ…your voice,” Cole says.
I croak mid-lyric and my fingers slip on the keys.
“What the he—” I catch myself. “What are you doing here?”
In a church of all places.
His shoulders rise in a shrug. “Figured this is where I’d find you.” He grins. “I was right.”
I’m seriously regretting coming here before choir practice now.
Not taking the hint that I want him gone, he walks over to the first pew and sits. “I didn’t know you played piano…or sang. Especially like that.”
“It’s nothing.”
There are far better musicians and singers out there. In fact, I hardly even consider myself one.
But I can’t focus on that right now. I’m too concerned about why he’s here. “Did you need something?”
He looks around. “It’s a little smaller than I imagined, but it’s nice.” His lips twitch. “You know, for a church.”
I try again. “Is there something I can help you with?”
He stretches his arm across the pew. “Do you think God is a her?”
“Huh?”
“The song.”
“Oh.” I highly doubt he came here seeking spiritual enlightenment, but I indulge him anyway. “I suppose anything is possible. There are all sorts of different religions out there. Some even have multiple gods.”
He leans back, assessing me. “You mean to tell me you’re actually admitting another religion may have it right, and there’s a chance your people got it wrong?”
“My people?”
“Christians. Jesus lovers.”
“I love Jesus, but it doesn’t mean everyone else has to.”
“That isn’t what I asked you.”
There’s an edge to his tone, but I’m not insulted.
Despite my frustration with him, I like that he’s asking questions instead of assuming.
Therefore, I give him the truth. My truth.
“Just because I have my own beliefs regarding God doesn’t mean I can’t respect the fact that other people have theirs.” I shrug. “At the end of the day, we're all just trying to get to the same place, right? Who am I to judge?”
“What about those who don’t believe at all?”
I rub my palms on my skirt. “I carry a heaviness in my heart for them.”
His green eyes gleam in challenge. “Because they don’t believe what you do?”
“Because it must be awfully hard to have the weight of the world rest solely on your shoulders every day.” I look him right in the eyes. “But no matter my personal beliefs, I would never try to convert someone, nor tell them they were wrong for not believing. I’m sure they have their reasons for it…just like I have mine.”
He stares at me for the better part of a minute before he speaks. “There is no one
in the world like you, Sawyer.”
My heart folds in on itself. I hate that he’s looking at me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever encountered.
But not nearly as much as I hate the way my heart kicks up whenever he’s in the room…
And the deep, dull ache in my chest whenever he’s gone.
Like my soul is attuned to him and only him.
“Look, I don’t think you came here to debate religion,” I say, trying to put some distance between us.
“You’re right.” Walking over to the piano, he pulls out an envelope. “I came here to give you this.”
“If it’s another present—”
“It’s not a present.” He hands it to me. “Promise.”
Baffled, I open it.
A weird combination of surprise and despondency tangle in my chest when I see the check made out for ten-grand.
“I can’t accept this.”
Not only would it feel wrong, I don’t want him to think his donation will persuade me to uphold my end of the contract.
As far as I’m concerned, our fake relationship is real over.
“I had a feeling you’d say that.” His features harden. “Take the money, Church. You earned it.”
I hold it out to him. “Hardly.”
We were barely even together.
And yet? It felt like my entire world ended the night he got drunk.
God, I loathe all these conflicting feelings I have regarding him.
One second I want to punch him, and the next I want to launch myself into his arms and go back to when things were good between us.
But mostly? I just want to know what caused the events of that night.
Why he got so blackout drunk and said all those brutal things.
How he can be so open and blunt one minute…but so closed off the next.
What he’s trying to escape from.
If he sincerely regrets hurting me…or if it’s all just another part of Lucky Seven’s act.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m allowed to donate money to whatever organization I want, Sawyer. If you don’t accept it, I’ll just give it to your uncle myself.”
Stubborn ass.
“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll give it to my uncle.” Whatever gets him going. “Anything else?”