drunk.
Pointing at Gabe with the hand holding the beer, the drunk shouts, “You know I’ve got a scanner, you little piece of shit. I told you the next time you get arrested not to come back! Your shit’s going to the curb!”
Getting out of the car, Gabe gives the man the finger.
The man points his own middle finger at Gabe. “Come in this house and I’ll break that off and stuff it up your ass, you little fucker.”
Gabe ignores him and goes straight to the driver’s side of his truck, which is parked on the curb.
Sam gets out next and bends down to Justin’s open window. “See you guys later,” he says. The man on the porch yells something else and after glancing over his shoulder, Sam adds, grinning, “Hopefully, we’ll make it out of here in one piece.” He gives Justin a soft punch on his shoulder, then runs to the passenger side of Gabe’s truck while the old guy on the porch continues yelling obscenities as he whips his beer can at the truck.
Not wanting to witness any more drama, I take off just as the can hits the truck with a thud.
Keeping my eyes on the road, I ask, “Do you want to go back to the dorm? Or you could come to my house. I’ll just have to take you home by two, when I pick up Ben.”
“Got a washer?”
My glance at him is questioning.
“I have to get out of these clothes. Jail stank.”
“Ah. Yeah, we’ve got a washer and dryer in the hallway closet.”
“Then your house it definitely is.”
Turning a corner, I say seriously, “I’m really, really sorry about last night.”
“Why would you be sorry?” His tone is incredulous.
“If it weren’t for me, Trevor wouldn’t have come and ruined everything.”
“Shit, Allie, you don’t have any control over that asshole. Although after last night, you should file a restraining order against the prick.”
His words surprise me. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“You should. But as for last night, don’t be sorry. He pushed you, and Gabe…Well, obviously, he has one crazy-ass temper.” He watches the passing scenery out the window for a moment. “I’ve always thought Gabe was a prick. Still do. But in the last twenty-four hours, I’m starting to understand why. He has one screwed-up life.”
“You guys talk last night?”
“A little. The shit he told me wasn’t pretty. After getting her ass kicked numerous times, his mom left him with that asshole on the porch when he was six.” He rubs his forehead. “I was seriously clueless about the shit life he has. I mean, we’re all aware there’s abuse and sick shit out there, but it’s totally different seeing it.”
I shudder at the thought of the person on the porch taking care of anyone, much less a six-year-old. I was really hoping the guy wasn’t related to Gabe. I was hoping for distant stepfather or maybe his mother’s awful new boyfriend.
“People like Gabe make me realize that my anger at my parents isn’t shit.”
I park in front of my apartment building, but don’t make a move to get out of the car. “Why are you angry at your parents?”
He shrugs. “Because they’ve always been too busy for me. Except when I fuck up. Then they stop their precious lives for about five seconds to bitch. But I’ve always had everything I needed and they’ve never been abusive.” He rubs a hand down his face. “Shit, Allie, did you see that house? Can you imagine if that was your father? I can’t imagine what Gabe has been through. Six years old…”
Yes, the glimpse we just got into Gabe’s life is heartbreaking. But the idea of Justin growing up and being ignored by his parents saddens me too. I reach for his hand and brush my thumb over his bruised knuckles. “You’re probably right. Gabe’s life has been far less pretty than yours, but that doesn’t excuse your parents’ negligence.”
“Forget about my parents,” he says, gripping his knees. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m worried about Gabe. They’re going to slap me with a class C misdemeanor if anything, but Gabe is going to get nailed without a lawyer. This is his third assault charge. The only way I’m going to get him to accept my paying for a lawyer is if I get one and he represents us both.”
“Can you afford a lawyer?”
“Yeah, my parents may not pay attention to me but they shower me with money.”
His tone is bitter, but since he doesn’t want to talk about his parents I simply say, “Then that sounds like a good idea.”
Nodding, he stares out the window, but I’m aware he’s not seeing anything.
“Hey,” I say, and pull him toward me. “How about a shower, then some sleep? You’ll have time to consider everything later. You need rest now.”
He covers my hand with his. “Damn. I got lucky when I walked into your shop.”
I grin at him. “Damn straight.”
I’m exhausted. I’m wearing a pair of pink running shorts that are too tight and too short. I look like an idiot. I’ve been arrested and spent the night, awake, in jail. But as I step out of Allie’s bathroom and almost trip over a basket of toys, I’m feeling happy.
I don’t have to wander far into the apartment to find her. She’s at her dresser, putting away clothes from a basket on the floor. The room is small, with a double bed and done in all white: walls, furniture, and bedding. Except for her vibrant paintings on the walls and the long brown-speckled curtains on the window.
“Hey,” I say softly, moving behind her.
She smirks at me in the mirror above the dresser. “Nice shorts.”
My eyelids lower.
“No, really.” She turns and runs a hand across my chest. Her fingers find the ring in my nipple. “I like them.” Her finger circles my ring as her smoky eyes wander over my body. “They don’t leave much to the imagination.”
The tiny shorts are about to get tighter. “You’re making my imagination run wild.” I jerk her toward me by the waist and lower my mouth to hers. Neither of us is slow. The kiss doesn’t build to hot. It’s instantly heated and fierce.
Desperate for the feel of her skin, my fingers seize the bottom of her shirt and lift it.
She pulls away and reaches for a curtain, drawing it closed.
The blinds had let the morning light in, but the closed curtains cast the room in shadows.
I yank the curtains open. “I want to see you.”
She yanks them shut. “Maybe I’m not ready for you to see me.”
Confused as all hell, I blurt, “What does that mean?”
“I’m a little shy?”
I tilt my head in thought as I recall our time together. “Not that much.”
She leans against the dresser, eyes downcast. “I’ve been pregnant.”
“Huh?” I shake my head in confusion, like a cartoon character, as I realize she doesn’t want me to see her in the light. “Allie, you’re smoking hot. Trust me. I’ve watched you for months now. For shit’s sake, I’ve been with you.” I open the curtains. “I’m dying to see you.”
“I’ve been pregnant,” she repeats softly, eyes still cast downward. “I have stretch marks, okay?”
I’m 100 percent out of my realm here. I can’t recall seeing any scars the last time we slept together. Though it
Her lips form a thin line and her fingers dig into the white wood at the edge of the dresser. “Trevor—he didn’t like them. He wanted to tattoo over them, but we weren’t together long enough.”
Ass. Fucking. Hole. I lean my forehead against hers. “Listen to me. You’re beautiful to me. Every single part.
