Shattered: Round Four (Broken Book 4) (11 page)

Eleven

****
Firsts

Jai

The garage door rolls to a close behind us. I twist the key in the ignition, shutting down the car, and drop my head against the steering wheel with a heavy sigh. I feel like shit—I feel worse than shit. I’ve gone to extreme lengths to save Joel. I’ve built my adult life around him…only to abandon him. Was it foolish of me to believe he’d be the same person I grew up with? Surely I had to know things would be different…

Emily and Huss simultaneously unclip their seat belts, but Emily stays put as Huss opens his door and slams it shut behind him, leaving Emily and I alone.

Good.

I want to be with her. Alone.

I lift my head and watch as Huss accesses the house through the white door in the far left corner of the garage and disappears. I watched him on and off on the car ride home. He’ll never admit it, but he’s shaken up. The way he'd grind his teeth and swallow harshly...nervousness is hitting him hard. I'm nervous too. We're doing this thing tomorrow and we still don't know the fucking plan.

“It was never supposed to be this complicated.” I sigh, falling back against my seat.

I look at Emily and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the glow of sympathy in her eyes, mixed with harsh judgement and something else—something intense.

“Do you think I’ve made a mistake?”

“Making them walk?”

I nod.

“No.” She utters, avoiding my eyes.

She’s lying, but I’m thankful for it. I don’t think I can stomach her disappointment on top of my own.

“I think your decision was justified.”

Justified? Hardly. I shift my hands to the base of the steering wheel and pick at a swallow crack in the leather.

“If you were me...would you have left them?”

Emily lifts her eyes to mine. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt if something happened to them.”

I close my eyes. If something happens to them...what have I done? No. I will not guilt myself into going back for them. Yes, the possibility of something happening to them is higher than I’d like...but they left me with no choice.

“I can’t go back for them.” I slam my palms against the steering wheel. “They need to know who’s in charge here. I run the goddamn show—not Ted, not Joel—
me
.”

She reaches out with her slender hand and glides her palm up my bicep. “I know.”

The look of terror on her face when Joker had his gun in Joel's face plays in my head over and over. I couldn’t defend her or protect her. I was fucking useless and I never want to be in that position again. I need her too much.

“All of those bikers...all of those guns...I couldn’t do anything. If only I had known, I would have left you here.”

“But you didn’t know and we’re home safe and sound so don’t dwell on it, Jai. You’ll only make yourself sick.”

Our eyes lock and a million and one emotions vibrate through me. Tomorrow is the end in one way or another. Either I make it back alive, freeing me to spend the rest of my life trying to woo Kitten into loving me, or I won’t make it back at all. The thought of her on her own, scraping by to make ends meet, or snatched from her bed my Skull...I can't. Panic swirls, growing in mass by the second. What about the shit the old man said about her? What if he can “feel” her future like he claims? If she’s in unbearable pain and Joel is somehow involved...maybe Monique and I die, leaving Joel and Kitten to keep each other company.

Sharp points of jealousy stab my stomach and fuel my panic.

I shut my eyes and focus on the touch of her palm on my bicep. For now, it’s enough to hold off the impending panic attack.

“I had that dream again last night.”  I mutter, changing the subject, doing anything I can to stop torturing myself with possibilities of our stark future.

“The one where I wear the red dress?”

“Mm.” I nod, smiling slightly. “You look amazing in that red dress. It’s a wonder we even make it to dinner.”

She laughs as I open my eyes and it’s a beautiful sound—girly and sweet. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. In your dream you said I fall madly in love with you after dinner.”

I nod.

“When do you fall madly in love with me? During dessert?”

“That’s funny.”

I chuckle, then pause. How doesn’t she know? After everything we’ve been through, after everything we’ve done, and everything I’ve said, how she hasn’t put two and two together. I open my mouth, then shut it. Rejection isn’t something I think I can handle with her. For the briefest moment, disappointment flashes in her eyes and shatters my fear of being rejected. What have I got to lose? If I’m going to die tomorrow, then I want to die knowing that Emily is aware she’s loved by another human being.

“I’ve already fallen in love with you, Kitten.”

A bright pink blush flares up her throat and pools in her cheeks. Her hand shakes as she reaches up to push a thin lock of hair off her forehead, but even with her visible nervousness, her shoulders lift in relief as she straightens her spine. It all makes sense. The distance she’s kept—her strange attitude. I conjured up a million reasons to explain her behavior, how’d I forgo the simplest one? I tortured myself with incredulous scenarios and theories, working myself up for no reason when the answer was so obvious.

She loves me too.

“O-Oh..." She stutters. "I...I...wasn’t expecting—”

“And forget what I said about you falling in love with me after dinner. You’ve already fallen in love with me too.” I state.

Just like earlier, the churn of her stomach is visible as a bout of nausea crosses her countenance.

“How do you know you love me?” She asks, sheepishly.

Her large, doe eyes flick to mine. There’s a sad droop to her eyebrows at the end of a concerned curve. What is she so afraid of?

  “How do I know?”

“Yeah.” She glances at her hands and threads her fingers together. “How do you know for sure?”

I exhale and flick off the headlights, drowning us in darkness—not complete darkness. I can still see the outline of her face, the slope of her neck and the curve of her breasts. I notice the change in her breathing in the darkness. It’s calm and relaxed—like there’s no more pressure to look me in the eyes when she speaks.

“I haven’t really thought about it.” I say, scratching my head—which reminds me I need a damn haircut. “I guess, in summary, the thought of not being with you for even a second makes me feel tight in the chest.”

Emily whips her head in my direction. “Does it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Through the darkness, she reaches out and slips her warm hand into mine. It’s damp, but it no longer trembles and it feels so tiny enclosed in my giant paw.

I like this. Being able to tell her everything I’ve been thinking—everything I’ve been feeling. Why stop there?

“I find myself stealing glimpses at you all day. You’re so fucking cute.”

With her free hand, Emily covers her mouth and I can only imagine the fierce blush in her cheeks at this very second.

“Oh my God. Stop. You do not!”

If only she knew just how many times I catch myself watching her—admiring her. Perhaps then she wouldn’t ask me if I’m sure about loving her.

“I do.”

“What if I’m picking my nose?” She asks, shock and disgust dominating her tone as he cringes.

“I’m sure you’d find a cute way to do it.”

Emily’s beautiful, uncontrolled laughter fills the car and I add it to my list of things that make me certain that I love her.

I shift in my seat. “I know I love you because the thought of being with anyone else—or you being with anyone else—just...it drives me fucking insane.” I swallow the bitterness in my throat. “All of those things...they’ve gotta count for something.”

A thick silence falls and all I can think about is begging her to tell me she loves me. I want to hear it more than anything—more than I want to live. I need to know that the last few years of my life—the life I’ve dedicated to finding a brother who doesn’t give a shit—hasn’t been a total waste.

“I feel the same, but...” She sighs, dropping her head back against her headrest. “I’ve never...God. I’m so pathetic.”

I release her hand and she pulls it back to shield her face.

“You’re definitely not pathetic, Kitten.”

She snorts, dropping her hands against her thighs with a slap. “Will you ever stop calling me that?”

“I don’t think so.” I laugh. “No.”

I’ve never been a pet name kind of guy. To be honest, the thought of them make me cringe, but she was too fun not to tease when I met her and it’s stuck.

She is Kitten.

She hates it, but that doesn’t matter.

“I’ve never said the words before.” She admits and the sadness in her voice hits me hard.

I shift in my seat again, angling my body towards her. “Never?”

“I grew up without parents and siblings. I’ve avoided any serious relationships and have never had the means to own a pet so no...never.”

Ah, so she has first time jitters. Nothing a little booze can’t fix. Turning in my seat, I reach behind it, stuffing in my hand into the pocket attached to the back. I remember seeing Ted stash a bottle of Vodka in there before we left. There’s nothing like a bottle of Russian water to loosen the tongue. I push deeper and my fingers graze the side of a cool bottle. Smiling, I wrap my fingers around the neck and pull it free.

“What are we going to do with that?”

I smile. Isn’t it obvious?

“We’re going to drink your first time jitters away.”

Emily quirks an eyebrow in the most mischievous of ways, making my blood sing. Fuck she’s beautiful.

“You know, this is all starting to sound a little like tenth grade.”

I arch a brow, matching hers. “Please tell me you did not drink Vodka and fuck in a car when you were in high school.”

Cringing, she nods as she pushes herself out of her chair and forces herself through the space between the front seats. With a squeeze and a huff, she’s drops onto the back seat.

“In the back of a truck with senior footballer Tommy Field and the smallest bottle of Vodka I’ve ever seen.”

Exhaling, she rests her feet on the back of the passenger seat.

“What, there weren’t any girls his age?”

She snickers, patting the space next to her. “Apparently not.”

Fucking sleaze. Then again, I can’t talk. If we went to the same school I’d have followed her around relentlessly. I would have had her and not in the back of a fucking truck. 

Clenching the bottle in my hand, I join her on the back seat. We share the booze without talking, both of us reveling in the silence. Around us, the air grows warm and humid, coaxing Emily to ditch her jacket while I ditch my sweater. Admittedly, I’d be more relaxed if I knew the answer to the question that’s burning at the back of my mind. Tommy Field. Who was he to her? I can imagine what he looked like so vividly in my head. Broad shoulders, black slicked hair, dark eyes and a smug look to match. I hate him and I don’t even know the piece of shit.

I clear my throat. “You and Tommy...was he your first?”

She rakes her perfect, white teeth over her bottom lips, biting back an awkward smile.

“Yeah. He was.”

Yep. I hate the shit out of him. Has a time machine been invented yet? If so, how much will it cost me to go back in time and beat the shit out of this guy?

I take the bottle from her hands and fill my mouth with it. My head spins with the effects of the alcohol and I grit my teeth as I swallow. I hold the bottle in front of my face. How have we almost finished it? How long have we been sitting here?

She extends her hand and I return the bottle.

“How’d that pan out afterwards?” I ask.

“Afterwards?” She downs a mouthful and hisses with a shudder. “Afterwards I didn’t exist and Mr. Quarterback went back to his on again off again high school sweetheart.”

“Fucking asshole.”

It’s official. I’m going back in time to shove an unlubricated football up his dick hole.

She shrugs. “It is what it is. What about you? Where was your first time and what was her name?”

I drop my head against the seat. How long ago was it? Too long to remember the girl’s last name.

“Her name was Melanie Something and it was on a beach.”

Emily turns in her seat, stretching her long legs across mine. Unable to resist, I rest my hand on her thigh.

“A beach? How romantic.”

I roll my eyes. “Sex on a beach is overrated. It was fucking horrible and anything but romantic.”

“How so?”

There is nothing, and I mean nothing, romantic about chaffing. The whole ordeal was a mess—and not to mention it lasted less than six minutes. Teenage nerves ruin lives.

“Don’t ask.”

I peer at Emily. Her eyes are wide and her face is lit up by both amusement and excitement.