Taking the Handoff, page 2
I can still remember how quickly bile rose in my throat and how much hate I had for him in that moment—hate that still hasn’t receded. How big of a scumbag do you need to be to hook up with your son’s girlfriend?
But I guess it all worked out in the end. Anna got to be on the arm of one of the richest guys in Seattle making all the connections she was hoping for—something I’d been blind to when we were together—until she found out he was cheating on her. No surprise. And I created the gold-digger test, which has insured that I never end up with a woman like her ever again.
Changing the topic back to our original conversation, Drew asks, “So, you just gonna stick with one-night stands?”
I heave a sigh. “Fuck, man, those got old a while ago, but I just keep getting burned by these women who are only using me so they can say they dated a pro athlete and maybe have fifteen minutes of fame. It’s kind of exhausting. Maybe I should take a break altogether.”
Drew stares at me like I just spoke another language and forgot to translate. “Wait. Are you trying to tell me you’re not going to get laid at all? Ha! Okay, we’ll see how long that lasts.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sets his beer back down on the table, and I can totally picture him in the courtroom getting ready to question a witness when he already knows the answers. “I very clearly recall the last time you went on a break,” he says with air quotes. “You lasted two months before you became a raging asshole from not getting laid. You get whatever the sex equivalent is of hangry. If you don’t get it regularly, you become a straight-up grump.”
“I do not.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Okay, what are we, five?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Whatever.”
Drew smirks at me like he’s already won his case. “Uh-huh. You know I’m right. Just admit it.”
Fortunately, I’m saved by the waitress delivering our food. Thank fuck, because I really did not want to admit that he’s kind of right. I do get more irritable when I don’t get laid regularly, but it also makes me a little sick to admit that. It makes me feel a little too much like my dad, and that’s something I swore I’d never be.
Three
The bustling restaurant does little to help me stay awake. Three days in my apartment and I’ve hardly been able to sleep at all. I thought the place looked slightly questionable during that first day with Drew, but that’s nothing compared to how the apartment complex transforms to massively sketchy at night.
The first night, someone shook the handle on my front door so forcefully I was convinced they were going to break it right off. My heart was pounding like it was going to burst out of my chest. For a split second, I thought about calling Drew, but I wasn’t ready to admit defeat. When I woke up after a fitful night’s sleep and saw everything was fine and my apartment was secure, I convinced myself I’d overreacted.
The second night, I heard screaming from my neighbor’s apartment. And not the kind of screaming that comes from otherworldly pleasure, but the kind when someone is getting murdered. I stayed awake the rest of the night, my ears perking at every sound, no matter how small. My heart raced every time a noise penetrated the thin, stained walls of my apartment. By the time I made it to my first shift at Walker’s Bistro and Brew yesterday, I felt like the walking dead.
When I got home last night, I thought I’d be too tired to do anything but sleep. Joke was on me, though, because not only did I deal with a car continuing to backfire—I refuse to believe it was gunshots—but there was more rattling of my front door handle and even some knocking and whispered words.
Walking into my shift this morning, my eyes feel like sand, and my body already aches from lack of sleep and stress.
“Girl, you look like shit.”
The words register in slo-mo, and I dazedly turn my head toward the voice. My eyes land on scuffed black motorcycle boots, up tall, toned legs, over an old Ramones T-shirt, and then pass over the smooth olive complexion and stick-straight black hair of my co-worker. My green gaze connects with Bernie’s gray hues. Bernie, short for Bernice, also works at Walker’s and took me under her wing on my shift yesterday. Despite my sleep deprivation, she and I bonded instantly. Her own quirkiness made me immediately recognize a kindred spirit.
“Thanks, Bernie,” I say sarcastically. Well, I attempt sarcasm, but in my tired state it comes out more slurred and drained.
“Hey, hun, I call it like I see it. What’s going on?” Her brow furrows in concern, and tears burn my eyes. I’m so tired. And when I’m tired, I get extra emotional. Which isn’t great, because I’m already a pretty emotional person, so I really don’t need any help in that department.
At the slide of the first escaped tear down my cheek, I take a shuddering breath, my bottom lip quivering. Bernie’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit, I set you off. You better not cry, girl, cause I’m a sympathetic crier, and my eyeliner is on point today.”
Another tear slips out, and I let out a quiet sob combined with a laugh as Bernie’s comment makes me realize I forgot to even put on makeup today. Bernie frowns, and she quickly looks around before shuffling me through the back of the restaurant and into a room that looks like an office. She sits me down in the closest chair and plants her hands on my shoulders.
“Okay, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Immmaaaapatahtahat,” I wail, the dam breaking and my shoulders shaking from my sobs.
“Hun, I’m gonna need you to speak English.”
I huff out a laugh and feel snot pop out of my nose. Lovely. A tissue lands in my fingers, and I bring it up to my nose, wiping the snot away. I suck in a breath, trying to find some composure. My eyelids feel heavier than before, and my chest tightens with fear as I relive the past few nights in my new place.
With each word out of my mouth, Bernie’s mouth puckers and concern deepens in her eyes. “Hun, I hate to break it to you, but as cute as parts of that neighborhood are, that is not a place for a single girl to live alone.”
Yeah, no shit. I’ve figured that out already.
“I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid to go home.”
“I’d let you stay with me, but I have the roommate from hell.”
I squint in confusion. “I thought you lived with your boyfriend.”
She nods, her face serious. “I do. And he’s a fucking slob, so yeah, I don’t want you to have to put up with that.” She puckers her mouth again. “You said your brother might help?”
My shoulders sag in defeat. I really did not want to have to rely on Drew to help me with this situation even though he offered before he left to go back to Seattle, but I think I’m past that now. I just want out of my place.
Bernie helps me through the rest of my shift, which I would feel bad about if I wasn’t so exhausted and didn’t desperately need the money from this job. On my way home, I call Drew, conceding.
“Hey, Squish, how’s LA?”
“Drew…” My voice breaks before I can get any more out.
“What happened?” he asks, immediately on alert.
I tell him about the past couple of nights.
“Shit, I was worried about this. Would you be willing to go stay with Luke for a few weeks just until you can find a new place in a safer neighborhood?”
My breath catches in my throat.
Luke.
As in Luke Carter. My lifelong crush.
I’ve been desperately in love with him for as long as I can remember. Of course, he’s only ever seen me as Drew’s adorkable little sister, but every time he came to my defense in grade school and junior high, I melted. He and Drew made sure no one would mess with me, even though I never quite fit in at our prep school. Luke is the guy I’ve measured all others against, and no one has ever compared. He’s a big reason I didn’t date in high school, another being the fact that I had very few friends or guys even interested in me at that point in my life.
I haven’t seen Luke in five years, and I’ve changed a lot in that time. Can I actually live with Luke? More importantly, will I be able to hide the feelings he’s always brought out?
“Emma? Are you still there?”
Drew’s frantic voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Yeah, I’m here.”
He lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank God, I was worried someone had snatched you or something. I really want you out of that place. So? Are you okay staying with Luke?”
My heart flutters as the word leaves my throat. “Yeah.” Daydreams from the days when I would scribble Emma Carter in my notebooks flit through my mind.
“Where are you now?” my brother asks, pulling me out of my head again.
“On my way home.”
“Okay, I’m going to text Luke right now and stay on the phone with you. I want you to pack up as much as you can and then I’ll text you the directions to Luke’s house. He can come back with you during the day to get the rest of your stuff.”
“Okay.”
Relief overwhelms me, and not for the first time, I’m incredibly thankful for my brother. My parents would never do this for me. They’d help me come home, but only if I agreed to choose a sensible career.
Once I get to my complex, those pleasant flutters in my heart turn into furious poundings, and my stomach tightens with nervous energy. I grip my phone tight in my hand as I make my way across the parking lot and up the stairs to my apartment, my eyes darting around anxiously the entire time.
I’m just about to reach my door when I notice it’s already cracked open. My heart drops to my stomach.
“Drew,” I whisper hoarsely into the phone, “my door’s already open.”
“Get out of there NOW, Emma.” He can’t hide his panic, which I’m grateful for because it confirms I’m not overreacting about this. Without another thought for my things, I turn on my heel and hightail it back down the stairs. My fingers shake around my key fob, and I’m thankful it opens with the click of a button because there’s no way I could get my hands still enough to stick the key in the door.
I slide into my car, my eyes scanning the back seat, terror thrumming steadily through my veins. I quickly shut the door and hit the lock button. A slightly relieved breath releases from my mouth as I feel some semblance of security wrap around me.
Drew texts me Luke’s address, and as I put it into the maps app on my phone, a thought hits me like a brick to the chest. “Oh my God, my guitar!”
“Emma, don’t even think about it,” Drew says sternly, but it barely registers as I think about my most prized possession that I left in its case in my bedroom when I went to work this morning.
“Drew—”
“No, Emma. It’s not worth it. If someone was in your apartment, they could still be there.”
Tears stream down my face as I glance back out the window toward my apartment. “But—”
“Emma,”—the pain in his voice stops any more words from coming out of my mouth—“you’re worth so much more than that damn guitar. I’ll buy you a new one. It can be replaced. You can’t. Please, I’m begging you. Do not go back into that apartment by yourself.”
I think those words might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. And hearing the pain in his voice steels my resolve to get out of there, leaving my precious possession behind. I could never do anything to purposefully hurt my brother.
“Okay,” I whisper.
I press go on the map’s navigation and start my car, heading toward a destination I never expected. The closer I get to Luke’s house, the more my stomach tightens with nerves. Will he recognize me? The last time I saw him I was going through a horrible acne phase and hadn’t started wearing contacts yet. He still looked at me like he always had—like I was adorable and weird.
But a lot’s changed in five years. I studied abroad and traveled extensively, exploring different cultures and mindsets. I found myself in a way I never had before, and my confidence blossomed. Physically, I learned how to actually tame my crazy hair into soft waves, started wearing contacts, and played around with makeup until I found a look that worked for me. I embraced my love of 1950s fashion and started curating a wardrobe that showcased my curves and made me feel sexy as hell.
My brain catalogues all the changes I’ve made, and with each one, a thrill of possibility fills me and I’m no longer worried about whether Luke will recognize me. By the time I pull up in front of his house only one question blazes through my mind.
Will Luke like what he sees?
Four
Drew’s text blazes on my phone screen, and an ominous feeling slides down my spine. I try to call him, but he doesn’t pick up which only heightens my unease. When the tentative knock finally comes, I’m already pacing in front of my door, opening it before the person has a chance to let their knuckles fall a second time.
Even though I knew who was coming, the woman standing before me is not what I was expecting at all.
My mouth goes dry as my gaze scours the voluptuous body that is both familiar and completely different from what I remember. Her gorgeous red hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, stopping just at the edges of breasts that have my dry mouth suddenly watering and desire spreading like wildfire through my veins. I follow the lines of her body wrapped in an outfit reminiscent of a fifties pinup. And fuck, does she have the body to pull it off. My gaze slides back up her curvy frame as my brain tries to make sense that this is the same woman I’ve known my whole life.
This Emma looks nothing like the nerdy, awkward teen I remember. This is a refined, stunningly sexy version of her that has my brain hazy with lust and my dick straining uncomfortably in my jeans.
“Luke?”
Her soft voice holds remnants of fear which shakes me out of my lust fog.
“Emma, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Fuck, even my voice sounds hoarse.
“Drew said he texted you?” She says it like a question, probably because I’m standing here staring at her like a fucking psycho.
“Yeah, here, come on in.” I step aside and gesture for her to enter. I notice she only has her purse with her. “Drew said you needed to stay with me, but I couldn’t get the fucker on the phone to tell me what was going on.”
She offers me a small smile. “That’s probably because he refused to get off the phone with me until I was here.” She holds her phone up, and I can see that a call is still going, and Drew’s name is in big bold letters with a goofy picture of him. “He wants to talk to you.”
I take the phone from her hand. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
“Fucker, huh?” There is a hint of joking in his tone, but it’s overshadowed by the worry I can hear there.
“What’s going on?”
The more Drew tells me about Emma’s apartment and coming home tonight, the more I start to understand his concerns. I glance at Emma, who’s biting her lip, her big emerald-green eyes glossy with unshed tears and pink high in her creamy cheeks.
“Can you take her, Luke? I know you said before you would, but I honestly don’t know how long it’ll take her to get on her feet, and I don’t want her in that position again.” He takes a heavy breath. “Fuck, man, I was scared out of my mind for her. I can’t lose my sister. I don’t want her living somewhere dangerous.”
“I’ll take care of her.” I glance at her again and then mentally tell my dick to settle the hell down because Emma is way off-limits. Fuck, she’s the goddamn dictionary definition of off-limits. “She can stay with me as long as she needs. We’ll find her a new place—that she can afford,” I add when I notice Emma shooting a glare my direction. She nods once, and I realize that as hesitant as I was to have her here, I’m relieved I can offer some sense of security for her and Drew.
“Thank you, Luke. You don’t know what this means to me.”
I focus back on the phone. “Of course I do. You’re my ride or die, man. You know I’ve always got your back, and if that means looking out for Emma, then that’s what I’m going to do. She’s in good hands, I promise.”
I glance back at Emma and have to take a breath at the hooded look in her eyes as she slides them up my body. When her gaze reaches my face, her cheeks flood a bright pink before she drops her gaze to the floor.
But it’s too late. I saw the lust in her eyes, and it’s already causing my blood to heat and my body to react in a way it never has to her.
Well, not until tonight at least.
My hands itch to touch her, but then Drew’s voice comes through the line like a bucket of ice water dumping on my libido.
What the fuck am I doing?
“Sorry, what was that?”
“I was just saying again how thankful I am, and I’m sure Emma is too. That place was sketch as hell.” The relief in his voice is evident.
“Like I said, you know I’ll always do whatever you need.” I turn back to Emma. “Let me let you go, so I can get Em settled.”
We say bye, and once I hang up, I pass the phone back to her. She takes it, her graceful fingers grazing against mine for the briefest moment. Her eyes are still downcast.
Her reaction to me isn’t all that surprising. Emma’s had a crush on me since we were kids—yes, I knew, but I never acknowledged it. What surprises me most is my reaction to her. That slight touch has electrified the tip of my fingers and left me reeling from my response to her.
But then reality settles heavily over me, and I remember who she is.
I can’t feel anything but familial affection for Drew’s sister. Not only would he kill me, but I’d lose his friendship, which would be worse than death. I push aside whatever crazy pull Emma has on me and chalk it up to just my body’s way of telling me I need to get laid.
It can’t mean anything else.
I’ll never do anything to jeopardize my relationship with Drew, and hooking up with his sister would be a huge betrayal of his trust.
My loyalty will always be with Drew.
