"No." I sidestep her. "I've got too much on my plate now. And you and I are a wreck waiting to happen."
"So, there's a chance though?" She rushes me, and before I really know what's happening, her arms slide around my waist and I can smell the sweet musk of her perfume in my nostrils. "I know I screwed up, baby. But it's always gonna be you and me. We have history. Our families practically arranged our marriage when we were babies. Don't let a few crappy weeks ruin all that."
I wish I'd stayed on the sand, looking at the moon like a sad old fuck.
"Lala, listen to me." Her big hazel eyes go wide and her mouth curls up with happy expectation. I shake my head before I shoot her down. "It's over. We're over. I don't want to hurt you, but you've got to let this go."
The sweet look cracks and falls right off her features. If I hadn't seen her do this manic emotion flip a thousand times during the course of our relationship, the complete twist would have shocked me. Since I know her inside-out, I'm just tired in advance from the tantrum I know is coming.
"This isn't over by a fucking longshot, Winchester Youngblood! You think you can just use me and toss me aside when you're done? You are so damn wrong, and you're going to regret this!"
She's starting to border on hysterical, so I walk away, leaving her to scream a long, nasty stream of curses and threats at my back.
The party is still in full swing, and, much as I want to split it all up and go the fuck to bed, I decide not to make a big deal or draw any attention to the fact that anything might be wrong. My family doesn't need any more gossip than it usually has going around.
I crack a beer and manage to keep myself separate from the crowd without standing out. Blending is one of my specialties.
It's the usual group of old friends and cousins, young co-eds, and the odd green business shark here and there. No one interesting enough to spend any time with.
I do see a girl who looks just like Evan. Long and slim, dark hair all coiled up, dress that hugs every sweet curve, boots that make her legs look long as a smooth, slow high dive. But I know Evan would never be here, and, much as it kills me, that fact also gives me a deep relief.
Wherever she is, it's not mixed up with this crap. She shadows my every thought, but I know that distance is what I need to keep her from getting tangled in everything I'm already netted into.
It's not until her laugh rings out that I choke on the sip of beer that was running down my throat.
That's Evan's laugh.
I'd know that sound anywhere.
I'm not entirely sure how I get across the room or what I plan to say or do, but suddenly I'm inches away from her, smelling the soft wildflower scent that can't mask the harsher, sexy, burnt sugar smell of her, and my jaw clenches tight while I wrestle with two warring desires; a huge part of me wants to drag her somewhere private and touch her everywhere without stopping, but the saner part knows the right thing to do would be order her to leave right now, while I still have the sense to follow through.
Some dumbass college boy has his hands all over her. She's crooked against him, his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close, and my vision goes red.
The guy notices me before Evan does, and he stands straight, letting go of her. I have to rip and kick at the urge to snatch her to my side.
"You must be Remington? Sal told me we should talk. I'm Jace Aldo." He holds a hand out for me to shake, but I ignore it.
Evan's eyes lock on me, and her complexion fades to ash, then bursts back to a sweet, excited pink.
I want her.
I want her so badly it shakes through me.
"I'm not Remington, and if Sal sent you, you can walk the fuck out the door right now." The people around the guy go quiet.
"Winch?" Evan's face is going through a crazy stream of emotions, and the one that's clearest is confusion.
I turn my attention to her. "What are you doing here with him? I thought you were trying to stay the hell out of trouble."
"I...we just met. At an art show. He goes to Southern."
As she trips over her words, her blush gets deeper and her eyes burn bright with a rage that wakes up something in me that used to be sound asleep.
I swing my eyes to Jace and say what it takes to get him to leave before I get my fists on him.
"Hands off. She's in high school. And her grandfather is Lee Early."
"Winch!" she gasps, and Jace puts five feet between the two of them in three seconds.
"Leave. I'll get her home." The music blares, but no one else is making any noise. I've stopped this party like a speedbump on the Autobahn.
Jace looks at Evan and says in a low voice, "If you want me to take you--"
"I said leave," I order, and Jace clamps his mouth tight and, with nothing more than a disgusted shake of his head, he stalks out the nearest door. I look around at the staring guests of Remington's fucked-up party. "Everyone can leave."
I flick off the sound system, and it's like popping a helium-filled balloon. Everyone starts to disperse immediately, and I can't get them out fast enough.
There's a lot of pissed-off murmuring and bitching, but I couldn't give a shit less. Evan stalks to the far railing of the deck, texting furiously, but I don't dare approach her until every other person is gone.
Lala is the last to leave. "Who is she?" she demands, pointing
