Deeply Destructive (Addicted To You, Book Four) (2 page)

“The police? Why would you have called the
police?”

“Because you took off with a thug, never to be heard from again.”

“He’s not a thug.”

Justin looked up sharply and then held his hand out. “Give me the phone.”

I shook my head. The last thing I needed was for Justin to get on the phone with Adam and start yelling at him.

“Adam,” I said. “I’m so sorry I made you worry, I really am. But I’m fine, I promise.”

“She’s fine, Adam,” Justin yelled, sounding annoyed. “Mind your own damn business.”

“What’s he saying?” Adam demanded.

“Look,” I said, ignoring his question, “I’m sorry I disappeared last night. That was wrong of me. Let me make it up to you. Maybe we can hang out later or something?” I wasn’t just trying to placate him. I did feel bad. Adam had been nothing but nice to me, and I’d just left him sitting there outside the yogurt shop. It was wrong, and I was embarrassed by my behavior.

“Okay,” Adam said, sighing. But he didn’t sound happy.

“I’ll text you later?” I asked.

“I guess.” He still sounded miffed. But then his voice softened a little bit. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I will.”

We hung up and I walked through the doorway back into the kitchen. Justin had his back to me and was sliding toast onto two plates. He picked them up and walked toward the little table in the corner.

I sat down. “Thanks,” I said as he set a plate down in front of me.

“Welcome.” He picked up his fork and angrily stabbed at his eggs.

“What’s wrong?”

“‘I’ll make it up to you’?” He was doing a shockingly good impression of my voice. “What was that about?”

“What it’s about is, I feel bad that I left him sitting alone in a yogurt shop last night without so much as an explanation.”

“I told you, I don’t want you seeing that guy anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s bad news.”

I shook my head and took a sip of the orange juice he’d poured for me. “I don’t think so, Justin. He’s been nothing but nice to me.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly what?”

“Exactly my point. Why do you think he’s been so nice to you?”

“Because he’s a nice person?”

He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe how naïve I was. “He wants to get in your pants.”

“No, he doesn’t!” I said, shocked. “He hasn’t tried any such thing.” But even as I was saying the words, I was remembering the other night at Frog, when Adam had put his hand on my leg. At the time it seemed innocent, but was Justin right? Was Adam just trying to get in my pants?

“Trust me,” Justin said. “He’s just biding his time, making you think he’s this great guy, and then when he has you roped in, he’s going to try something.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Trust me,” he said. “It’s not.”

Was he right? Adam
had
put his hand on my leg. But still. Other than that, he’d been nothing but nice to me. And besides, I couldn’t start getting all paranoid about people just because Justin had some kind of chip on his shoulder.

“Well, whatever,” I said, hoping we could change the subject.

“Whatever, nothing. If he touches you, I’ll kill him.”

“Justin!”

“What?” He shrugged. “I’m serious, Lindsay. I don’t want him putting his hands on you. And you can tell him that, too.”

I wanted to ask Justin why he didn’t want Adam putting his hands on me when he himself hadn’t even tried to kiss me. It didn’t make any sense. If Justin was that jealous of another guy, then why didn’t he try something with me?

I took a bite of my eggs. “These are really good,” I said.

“See?” He grinned, proud of himself. “I told you.”

A few minutes later, we were cleaning up the breakfast dishes when my phone rang again.

“If that’s Adam again…” Justin warned.

“What if it is?” I challenged.

“Let me see that phone,” he replied, trying to grab it from my hands.

Once again, I felt the familiar spark of electricity as Justin’s body came in contact with mine. I tried to retain my composure, but it wasn’t easy.

“It’s Rachel,” I said, looking down at the caller ID and keeping the cell out of his reach. “You know, my roommate? She’s probably wondering why I didn’t come home last night.” I sent the call to voicemail, not wanting to get into a big conversation about where I’d been. Then I sent her a quick text, letting her know I was okay and that I’d be home soon.

Justin took a step back and sighed. “Probably time to get back to real life, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said. But I didn’t mean it. I was disappointed. I didn’t want to go back to the dorms. I didn’t want to be away from him. Still, I knew we couldn’t spend every moment together. That would be crazy.

“I mean, you can stay here, of course. We could –”

“No, no,” I said quickly, not wanting him to think I was some kind of crazy stalker. “You’re right. I should get back to school. I have a lot of work to do, anyway.”

Which was true. I did have work to do and a real life to get back to—didn’t I? I was unsure, suddenly, what really mattered and what didn’t.

He nodded, then went to his room and returned with my hoodie.

“I hope Gil’s going to be okay,” I said as I slipped it on.

“Gil’s going to be fine,” he said. “Trust me, he’s been through worse.”

I wasn’t sure how that was possible, but I nodded. “Okay, well, um…” I didn’t know what to say. Text me later? Call me later?

“I’ll text you later,” he said. We were at the front door now, and he opened it for me.

“Okay,” I said. I turned around and gave him a little wave. “Bye, Justin.”

“Bye, Lindsay.”

He smiled that perfect smile at me, and I practically skipped to the T station. Yes, I had hours of work waiting for me back at my dorm, along with a roommate who was probably going to give me the third degree about where I’d been and what I was doing, not to mention the whole Adam situation.

But none of that mattered.

All that mattered was Justin, and the giddy feeling that was staying with me, even after I’d left his apartment.

JUSTIN

Gilbert was asleep again when I went in to check on him after Lindsay left. He looked pale and old, like he’d aged ten years in the last few days. He stirred a little as I was standing over him, opened one eye and looked up at me. Gil’s mouth stretched into a slow grin. “Am I in hell or did they just find the ugliest angel to watch over me?”

I crossed my arms. “There’s nothing funny about what happened last night. Do you even remember?” I’d been nice when I’d checked on him this morning, but the time for me to be understanding was over.

He yawned and made a face. “Actually, I don’t remember much.” He tried to sit up. “I’m dizzy. Shit.” He lied down again. “I feel like crap.”

“You need to stay clean, Gil. You’re going to die.”

He looked up at me, this time with both eyes open. “Don’t you think I’ve tried, JB? It feels like every day takes a year to go by, and it never gets better. It’s just another day where I try to survive the sickness I’m feeling.”

“It will get better. You just have to trust…”

“Trust what?”

“Trust me,” I said, looking down at him. “I’m promising you it will get better.”

He shivered, closed his eyes. “I do trust you, JB. You’re the only one left. The only person who hasn’t given up on me yet.”

“I’ll never give up on you,” I told him.

I felt my phone vibrate, and the first thing I thought was that Lindsay was texting me. I started to smile as I anticipated what she might have written.

Hopefully something sexy.

I checked my phone and my smile faded. It was a text from Coach Jansen.

I want to talk to you. Meet me in an hour at Suffolk Downs Raceway
.

Not exactly what I was hoping for. And I wasn’t at all sure why he would ask me to meet him at the track instead of at the gym. Was I still kicked out of the gym, even though Drew Ellis had just told me he wanted me to be training hard for my next fight?

“Nothing’s ever easy,” Gil muttered from the floor.

I glanced down at him. “That’s right. But you won’t appreciate anything unless you work hard to get it.”

“Speak for yourself,” he groaned, and rolled over.

“Look, I’ve got to head out for a little bit.” I waited for Gil to respond to that, but he didn’t say anything. “If you wake up and get hungry, there’s some stuff in the fridge.

Just wait here until I get home, okay?”

Gil just groaned and seemed to curl his body up even further, as if trying to escape my voice.

I shook my head, hating to see my best friend acting like something out of a bad TV movie of the week. I couldn’t forget the way Gil used to be, the kid who had given speeches before big wrestling meets, who had trained harder than everyone else, who had been smarter and funnier than anyone I knew.

He was supposed to be inspiring me, helping me, keeping me on the straight and narrow—but now I was on my own, trying to look out for him and me both. I consoled myself with the fact that he was going to be okay. At least this time.

As I went to get dressed for the day, it occurred to me that life really could twist and turn in some unexpected directions. And that made me think of Lindsay.

I pulled a t-shirt over my head and grabbed a pair of jeans from my closet, remembering how we’d been in my bed together not so long ago. Her body had been inches from mine and I had barely been able to restrain myself from ripping her clothes off.

She had a body that was built for sex—anyone could see that. Underneath that goody two shoes vibe, I knew there was a wild girl just waiting to come out. I could see it in her eyes and feel it in the way she sometimes touched me, the way her mouth opened a certain way when I caressed her and held her.

It drove me insane that I’d made a vow not to get romantically involved with her.

I kept asking myself what the big deal was, why couldn’t I just screw her and get it over with?

I examined my face in the mirror, noting that the cut over my eye was already substantially better than it had been even a day ago. In four or five days, I could probably do some light contact sparring if I was careful.

What I really wanted to do was some heavy contact with Lindsay. I wanted to climb on top of her and inside of her, I wanted to let her know what I was feeling in ways she could never mistake—show her how badly I wanted her.

But something kept holding me back. No matter how much I wanted her, no matter how much I was tempted by the flashes of skin, the lure of her perfect breasts, her tight ass, those legs that went on forever—I couldn’t bring myself to do something that I knew would ultimately hurt her.

Lindsay had big goals in life, that’s why she was going to Cambridge University and not Bunker Hill Community College. Not that there was anything wrong with community college, but girls like Lindsay didn’t attend that sort of place. She was going to do amazing things that an ordinary person couldn’t even imagine. I wasn’t going to mess that up for her.

I had my own big plans, and those were most definitely not compatible with the kind of life Lindsay was trying to make for herself.

Speaking of big plans, I needed to get out to the track before Coach Jansen had yet another reason to be pissed off at me.

***

I hadn’t been to Suffolk Downs in years. I used to go all the time with my dad when I was little, and at the time I’d thought it was the coolest thing in the world.

Everybody at the track knew him, and he knew them. They even called him “the mayor,”

and I’d thought that was so awesome—almost like my dad really was the mayor, and not just some burnout that had gambled away every dime he’d ever made.

Walking from the train to the track brought back so many memories of those old times. I could practically smell the smoky gray coat my dad always wore, could almost feel his rough hand holding mine as we made our way to the racetrack together.

I was broken out of my memories when I saw Coach Jansen standing by the entrance to the clubhouse, waiting for me.

I still had no idea why he wanted me to meet him there. He’d never seemed like the gambling type, but then again, you never really knew what people did in their private lives.

“Thanks for coming,” he said as I got closer.

“No problem. Kind of an unexpected invitation,” I said, smiling, trying to read his intentions as he looked back at me.

His face was serious, as usual. “Come on. I already put a bet in on this race, let’s go outside and watch them run.”

“Okay.”

He handed me a ticket and I saw that he’d put down four dollars on the number eight horse, Happy Wanderer, at six-to-one odds.

We went out to the stands and sat down next to the other degenerates, who were already clapping and screaming. Funny how those familiar sounds brought back so many happy memories, even though I knew better now. All of those times that I’d thought my dad was bringing me somewhere happy, somewhere positive, and it had all been one big lie.

I let my eyes comb through the people around me, making sure he wasn’t there. It was possible he had a bet in on this very race, and he would be shaking his fist and yelling right along with the others.

“So, I obviously brought you here for a reason,” Jansen said, as they led the horses to the starting gate.

“Obviously,” I said. “Unless you just wanted my help handicapping the races.” I took the racing form out of his hand and looked at the stats for the race.

“I didn’t know you bet the ponies,” he replied.

“I don’t.” I smiled at what I was seeing on the racing form. “You’re getting six-to-one on Happy Wanderer, but from what I’m seeing, she’s ten-to-one at best. She hasn’t had a win over six furlongs and this is a seven-furlong race. Also, she’s a classic frontrunner and they’ve got her on the outside lane, which makes it even less likely that she’ll get off to a good start.”

I handed the form back to him and he just stared at me. “What are you, fucking Rain Man or something?”

“My dad used to bring me here all the time.”

“Oh.” Jansen sighed. “And here I was, thinking I was going to teach you something.”