Shattered by You Read online

  I wasn’t sure what he was referring to, so I merely looked at him questioningly.

  He sighed. “Fucking around. Lots of chicks.”

  Oh, yeah, I knew. I hadn’t seen anything on social media lately, but what was on the internet never went away and his past was there and I’d seen it.

  “Some bitch, and babe, she is a bitch, is causing problems for us. Followed us to every venue which normally is cool, but not when she’s sending gifts and posting bullshit all over the internet about me and her . . . It was over a year ago. I’d fucked her. She thinks it meant something. It didn’t.”

  “So you came home because of her?”

  He shifted his weight and his hair fell across his one eye. “Kind of. No and yes, a combo thing. That’s the reason I gave the guys. We only had Seattle and we’ll re-schedule.”

  “And?” I tensed waiting to hear the combo because so far that was a single reason.

  “Luke mentioned something.”

  Shit. Luke reported to Crisis, which meant he’d been concerned and had come back.

  “What did he tell you?” But I knew what it was.

  Despite telling Deck I didn’t want to hear anything about the club, I received a call from Deck’s man, Vic. The club was found and shut down, but they were still searching for a few girls as they’d scattered. He needed to know how many were there. I didn’t know. I never met the other girls.

  But after that call, I was trembling and freaked, the buried memories surfacing. I went running for three hours. Luke had not been impressed.

  “He said you got a call, looked freaked-out then went running for a fuck-of-a-long time.” He nudged me down the line then reached across and put his hands on the sides of the tray next to my hands. “Everything okay, Ice?”

  “It’s fine. I like to run. Luke doesn’t.”

  Crisis huffed, but for some reason he didn’t push the issue. “Your brother gets back tomorrow with Logan. They’re making a statement today about Seattle being cancelled.”

  His baby finger brushed against mine and my stomach flip-flopped. I stiffened, my eyes darting to his, but he wasn’t looking at me; he was eyeing the hot dishes under the heat lamps.

  “Fuck, is that cream of corn? It looks like . . .”

  I didn’t hear the rest of what he said as the bunch of guys in line started cheering at something, pumping their arms in the air. A few whistled and hooted then one of them yelled, ‘I’m screwing that pussy tonight.’ I didn’t know why, but it was the tone of his voice that set me off.

  A cold wave spread over me; the blanket ripped off.

  I froze as the memories bombarded. I hated it. The glassy eyes ogling me, the dancing, the disgusting groping hands—but nothing was worse than the backrooms.

  They were classy and clean just like everything in the club, even the men. But the high-quality business suits only hid the filth that was beneath.

  And I lived it every Saturday night for years. After a while, I no longer knew who the men were or what they looked like. I zoned out, a mannequin used until they grunted, fell on top of me, their weight suffocating. The money I made went to Olaf who supported both Alexa and me. Although, I wouldn’t call it support, more like he kept me alive to make him money while Alexa treated me like I was her pet dog . . . one she didn’t like.

  I shivered and tried to push the thoughts away.

  “Slow, deep breaths, baby.” His low voice was gentle and soothing and I felt him inch closer. I should’ve wanted to get away, but I didn’t. He was safe. At some point, Crisis had become safe. I had no idea when it happened, or how, but it did. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about it yet.

  I opened my eyes, slowed my frantic inhales and looked at him.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded.

  “This happen often?”

  I shrugged. Usually, I managed to avoid the triggers, but this time, my emotions were off-kilter with Crisis showing up.

  “Was it the guys?”

  How much to give him? I hesitated, my eyes never leaving his, then I nodded.

  “Hey, buddy. Move it.”

  Crisis tensed and it was like his entire body changed as he directed his gaze on the guy telling us to move. “Fuck off.”

  The guy backed down. Smart, considering Crisis looked and sounded scary when he wanted to be.

  Crisis wore a baseball cap low over his eyes, but his playful blond curls poked out on both sides and at the back. The muscles in his arms flexed as he picked up the tray and the tats along his skin expanded and the intense black ink faded slightly.

  His jeans had holes in the knees and despite the leather belt, which was more for show than anything, they hung low on his hips. But if he was trying to hide who he was, he didn’t try very hard as he wore a black t-shirt with the words Tear Asunder ROCKs. Although, in his defense, I’d seen a few of these shirts around campus.

  “Damn, you’re the guitarist from Tear Asunder—Crisis.” And anonymity botched. The guy, who a moment ago was pissed off at us for holding up the line, now grinned.

  Crisis nodded. “Yeah, man. But I’m trying to keep it quiet. You know . . . have lunch with my girl.”

  My girl?

  Crisis shifted the tray into one hand and slapped the guy on the shoulder with the other. “She hasn’t seen me in months and is dying to get her lips on me.”

  I snorted and moved off toward the cash register. Unfortunately, they followed. I knew he was attempting to get the lightness back after what just happened with me by teasing, but I was uneasy with the fact he’d been recognized.

  The guy laughed. “Sure. That’s cool. Better lower the hat though. If the chicks find out you’re on campus, it’ll be mayhem.”

  Crisis tagged my arm before I had the chance to escape without my food and disappear into the crowded cafeteria. “Whoa, babe.” He glanced back at the guy. “Later, bud.”

  He guided me with his body to the cash register where he passed the lady a twenty dollar bill and didn’t bother waiting for change as he strode through the hordes of students sitting at the rectangle tables until he found one unoccupied. He slid the tray onto the surface then dipped his hat lower over his face.

  I stood at the end of the table, uncertain whether I should avoid a catastrophe that was imminent as soon as that guy told his friends Crisis from Tear Asunder was in the cafeteria. I glanced over my shoulder for the door . . . I wasn’t that hungry and had class in fifteen minutes.

  “Don’t even think of it. Do you really want me running after you, throwing you over my shoulder and bringing you back here to sit and eat?” And again with the delusion that he could really get me over his shoulder. “You’ve lost weight and I guarantee your brother is going to notice.” I glared. He shrugged. “Come on. I need a good laugh and seeing you eat that sloppy joe will end my dry spell.”

  Crisis had incredible eyes, brilliant blue that sparked with tiny star-like speckles of playfulness. Nonthreatening . . . safe.

  I sat on the bench and Crisis grinned then sat across from me. He snagged my water bottle and opened it for me. “You didn’t tell me you wanted to move out of the farmhouse.”

  Ream must have told him I planned to move closer to school. “Was it a pre-requisite?” I’d been looking for a job, too, so I could afford a place of my own.

  He snorted. “Fuck yeah. I don’t jump off cliffs with just any chick.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “Come on, Haven. We talk every day. I’d think it would be something you’d tell me.”

  “We text every day,” I corrected.

  “Fine. We text. But I don’t normally text a chick more than twice. You’re an exception.”

  “Is that a rule?”

  “Fuck yeah. You know that. We talked about it.”

  I did.

  He’d also told me that it was perfect when they toured because they were never in a city long enough to have to see the chick more than twice. Twice was his limit, he said ‘his cock had always liked
variety pussy.’

  “You look cute with your book bag and all . . . school-like,” Crisis drawled and it drew my attention because Crisis had this husky tone to his voice that couldn’t be ignored and I was betting he knew it.

  “School-like?”

  “Yeah. You know, studious and shit.”

  He watched me as I picked up my apple, took a bite next to where he had and put it down. I wasn’t exactly uncomfortable under his watchful gaze. I was accustomed to being on display, but it was something else. Something undecipherable that made me . . . aware of him.

  “Your brother tell you he and Kat are buying the farm from Emily?” My brother had told me weeks ago. He also told me that Kite and Crisis had bought a place together so they wouldn’t be back at the farm.

  Originally, Logan and Kite owned the farm under a numbered company, something about keeping anonymity at the time. Then Logan put it in Emily’s name and later decided to buy another farm to build a custom house and stables.

  “So, where are you looking?” he asked.

  “Not looking yet. But it will be closer to school.”

  I took a sip of my water then picked up my sloppy joe, the meat dripped out onto the plate. Of all days, the special had to be the sloppy joe. I always went for the specials on the days I was running late and didn’t bring a lunch. They were cheaper and I hated using my brother’s money. He’d set up an account for me, insisting that the money was partially mine anyway. That it was left to us from Urma, the old lady who had let us live in her shed when my brother and I were sixteen and living on the streets.

  I knew the cottage had been hers, but the money was no doubt Ream’s.

  “You good with that?”

  I had no idea what he said, so I said nothing. I leaned over my plate and took a bite of my sandwich. The juices slipped from the corners of my mouth and more meat fell out of the bun and dropped onto the plate than into my mouth. I put it down and Crisis held out the napkin, a cute grin on his face.

  “Never thought I’d see the day when you had juices all over your face.”

  I took the cheap white paper from him and wiped my mouth. “Funny.”

  Crisis’ sexual references were usual, but it was the clench between my thighs that surprised me. I’d never had that.

  Crisis showing up at my school put me off balance and, regardless of our texting, I was unsettled with him sitting in front of me. Just his legs outstretched beneath the table, inches from mine, made me hyperaware of him and it was a hyperaware that overpowered the numbness.

  “So, what do you think?”

  Had he said something else? “Huh?”

  “Am I that boring, Ice? Jesus, ego is taking a beating today.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  He plucked my apple from my tray and bit into it again. A solid crunching sounded as he chewed with his perfect white teeth. His hand holding the red apple moved as he spoke. “You’re right. It’s not. But I’m thinking it’s easier to get your attention if I act hurt.” He grinned. “Is it working?”

  I shook my head. “No.” Maybe. I picked up my lunch and started eating again.

  It was a few minutes before either of us said anything and finally I set my sandwich down and met his eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Watching you.”

  “Why? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. I like sitting with you. It’s a hell of a lot better than staring at my phone screen waiting for it to light up.” It was said casually without that flirty tone and I felt the change in my heartbeat as our eyes locked for a second longer than I liked.

  I leaned over and picked up my sloppy joe again and took too big of a bite because . . . well, I was unguarded by him and I’d been so accustomed to protecting myself from everyone for years that it was unnerving. I didn’t know how to take it. I was used to being cold and detached and, suddenly, I was heated and connected.

  To Crisis.

  My mouth overflowed with sloppy joe and I tried to chew it all, but some slipped from my mouth. I swallowed unchewed meat and it scratched my throat. My eyes watered and I wanted to cough, but couldn’t unless I sprayed half-eaten meat all over the table.

  Jesus. I shoved my tray aside as I finally managed to swallow and wiped my mouth with the napkin.

  “You not eating anymore?”

  I shook my head. He took my water bottle off the tray and set it on the table and passed me the apple. He picked up the tray and strode over to the trash and tossed the rest of my sloppy joe.

  I heard the four girls at the next table start to giggle and when I looked over they were staring at Crisis. He turned around and one girl darted to her feet and pranced over to him. The flock soon followed and surrounded him, blocking his way back to the table.

  “Oh, my God, you’re Crisis.”

  “ . . . so hot.”

  “Can you sign . . . ?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Do you want to have lunch with us?”

  All I could see was the top of Crisis’ baseball cap as he bent his head saying something to the one girl on his right then took a pen from her hand. I couldn’t see anything now as they formed a tight ring around him. I guessed he was signing some body part because they sure as hell didn’t have their books with them.

  I had no intention of sticking around for Crisis to work his way back to me. I hadn’t even told the few friends I had at school that my twin brother was Ream from Tear Asunder. The last thing I wanted was hordes of people around me asking questions or pretending to like me because of my famous brother and the band. And, of course, there was always the lingering fear of anyone recognizing me from the club. Naked pictures of me surfacing was only the tip of what could happen. Ream was famous and my shit would lead right into his if the reporters did any digging and I’d never let that happen.

  I grabbed my water, picked up my book bag and threw it over my shoulder then quietly sneaked away.

  “Haven!” Crisis shouted.

  I weaved through the tables, pressed my palm to the swinging door and darted out into the hallway.

  DANA CAUGHT ME just before I escaped into the safety of Professor Neale’s Creative Writing. I stopped and glanced past her to make certain Crisis hadn’t managed to follow me.

  “Have, where are you going so fast? I’ve been screaming your name like a lunatic since the cafeteria. Who were you with? I was just coming over to your table when you took off.”

  “I didn’t want to be late for class.”

  “So who was the guy?”

  “An old roommate.” Truth with the omittance of exactly who he was.

  Dana had bouncing red curls falling all over her head as if she’d been in a wind storm, and she dressed rather . . . provocative, especially compared to me. Even at the beginning of October, it was still warm and I wore long sleeve shirts. I had no intention of being asked questions about the words burned into my wrist.

  She shrugged it off. And I think that was why I was okay with Dana. She was laid back and calm, and didn’t pry into my past. Of course, she asked the usual questions: where I was from, what schools I went to. None of which I answered and she didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t, merely proceeded to tell me about herself.

  She lived with her dad and older brother on the outskirts of the city. Her dad was a mechanic and had his own shop, and her brother was currently helping out. She never mentioned her mom and I didn’t ask.

  “My place or yours? Just saying, my place sucks. Dad. Older brother. You know, annoying as hell.”

  I didn’t know. I’d never had a dad, neither Lenny nor Olaf could ever be classified as a dad, even a bad dad. I had no idea who my father was, didn’t care, and I suspected my druggie mom didn’t know either.

  My brother I’d never consider annoying. I loved him more than anyone; he was part of me, the good part. We may have been separated, but there wasn’t a day that I wasn’t reminded of him. Sometimes, those reminder
s were cruel because I missed him, but I locked my feelings for him in the compartments of my mind. But seeing him again unlocked the compartments along with other parts of me.

  A girl nudged by me, giving me a dirty look beneath the rim of her glasses as she went into class. I met her glare, unflinching, and she was first to look away. I hitched my slipping book bag up on my shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  Dana rolled her eyes and her long lashes, accentuated by heavy mascara, touched the light pink eye shadow below her brows. “The party?”

  I was hoping she’d forget about that. But I knew better. Dana was the opposite of me in that she loved to socialize. She was also a few years younger than me since I had started university so late.

  “You promised.” She lowered her voice as she leaned toward me. “Dillon will be there.” And Dana liked Dillon—a lot.

  Dana bounced on the tips of her toes as she grinned at me. I’d avoided three parties so far and finally said yes when Dana begged about this one, insisting it was mostly friends of hers from her old school and the lacrosse team. The lacrosse team weren’t like the football team and appeared sort-a-kind-a okay. But what won my yes to the party was the fact that appearing social and having friends was normal and I was trying my best to get that, despite the gun lying at the bottom of my bag right now.

  “So, your place to get ready?”

  “Okay,” I said. At least no one would be there as Ream wasn’t back yet and Crisis and Kite had bought a new place.

  “Great,” Dana shouted then flung her arms around me.

  I stilled. The immediate reaction to her touch pushed the trained response in me and my body tightened up like a spring, hands curling into fists.

  She must have felt my tension because she lowered her arms and backed off. There was only a flicker of question in her eyes before it vanished and she smiled. “Okay, and I’m bringing something for you to wear because you aren’t going like that.”