Chapter 42
Reed usually spent Sundays at the lake or driving around town. Not much else to do when you had no extra money and nowhere else to go.
He used to spend an hour or two at The Cockeyed Chameleon. Grab something to eat and bullshit with whoever was tending bar. But Sundays were notoriously slow—the reason why he was never scheduled that day—and Hayden asked too many questions.
Specifically, questions about him and a certain curvy, smart girl who just happened to be her best friend’s boyfriend’s younger sister.
Fucking small town.
Everyone knew everyone.
But today had been different. Instead of going to the lake or driving around town, he’d somehow ended up in fucking Columbus, Ohio.
He’d spent the morning there. Walking around Ohio State’s huge campus, Titus whining and throwing him injured looks at having to be on a leash. Even though it was still summer break and a Sunday, there were plenty of people hurrying down the walkways, throwing frisbees or just hanging out.
It was like a movie set, complete with lush, neatly-mowed grass, a mix of well-maintained, perfectly spaced-out buildings—both modern and new—and a cast of too pretty, too entitled kids his age.
Soon, Verity would be one of them.
He didn’t get what she was so afraid of.
She was going to fit right in.
Hell, it would only be a matter of time once she was there before she realized how stupid she’d been to be worried. Only a matter of time before she stopped missing Mount Laurel.
She’d meet new people. Make new friends. Date new guys.
She’d move on.
Fuck, she already had moved on.
With some professional baseball player who called her babe and told her how pretty she was.
And Reed was sitting in his truck, in the dark, staring at her house like a goddamn stalker.
Not that there was anything to move on from. They weren’t together. Never had been.
Never would be.
He knew that. It had been his choice not to go there with her.
And he’d still driven to Columbus, just to see how long the trip took. Went to her campus, just so he knew how easy it was to find. Had stayed there until lunch time, just so he could get a small feel of what it was going to be like for her when she was there.
He’d taken the long way back home—as in all the way up to Cleveland and then over to Erie before heading back to Mount Laurel. Had slowed the trip down even more by stopping three times to let Titus out. But even then, he’d gotten back way too early and had spent the past three hours parked at a secluded spot at the lake.
All so he wouldn’t be tempted to do exactly what he was doing now.
Looking at Verity’s house and trying to figure out if the lit window on the second floor was her bedroom.
Wanting to pound on her front door and beg her to talk to him.
That was the thing about Verity, even when she pissed him off, even when she was being all snooty and a smartass and showing him how much smarter she was than him, he liked listening to her. He liked that she shared her thoughts with him. Liked how honest she was, even if that honesty sometimes cut him off at the knees.
He liked that she was so open and trusting and so fucking good.
He liked her.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
On a groan, he tipped his head back against the rear window. Tapped it there a few times until Titus whined and nudged Reed’s hand with his big head.
Reed stopped and patted his dog’s head. “I’m okay, buddy.”
Titus gave him a doggy side-eye.
Yeah, yeah. He was a fucking liar. So what?
Better that than admitting he was amped up over some girl he’d never even kissed.
It would be easy, so fucking, pathetically easy, to blame her for his restlessness. His edginess. His thoughts of her.
But that was too close to how his old man acted. Blaming everyone and everything for his shitty life. Taking his bitterness and anger out on others. Hurting them to make himself feel better.
When it came to Verity, he was constantly doing things he shouldn’t. Saying things best kept quiet. Making the wrong choices over and over again.
But he wouldn’t do that.
He wouldn’t blame Verity for his own weaknesses, he vowed, putting the truck into Drive and pulling out onto the street.
He wouldn’t turn into Pete Walsh. Wouldn’t be like him in any way.
No matter what.
***
There were certain things that only happened in the TV and the movies:
Like racing through the airport to stop your true love from boarding the flight that was going to take them away from you forever, or the villain giving a fifteen-minute monologue telling the hero every aspect of their brilliant plan, or someone showing up at midnight and tossing pebbles at their love interest’s window.
Or so Verity had believed.
She’d been wrong.
Because someone was tossing handful after handful of pebbles at her window right now.
Which was super weird as she didn’t even have a love interest.
But the moment she thought that was also the exact moment she knew, somehow, and without so much as glancing outside, who was doing that tossing.
Another handful of tiny rocks hit its target, ping, ping, pinging against the glass. Bella, taking up more than her fair share on Verity’s bed, lifted her head. Looked at Verity, one eyebrow raised.
Or at least, the dog version of that questioning look.
“Don’t look at me,” she grumbled. “I have no idea what’s happening right now.”
She considered, briefly but with great delight, turning off her lamp, pulling the covers over her head, and ignoring him until he gave up and went away.
“I’m only doing this to make sure it really is who I think it is,” she told Bella as she slid to the edge of the bed. “In case it’s not. Him, I mean. Which would actually be more worrisome than if it is him, you know?”
Bella, it seemed, did not know. Nor was she the least bit concerned. She just hopped off the bed, raced over to the window, lifted her front paws onto the sill and pressed her nose against the pane.
And barked.
“Shhh,” Verity hushed, hurrying over. “You’re not helping.”
She tugged her dog down, but Bella hopped those two front paws right back up so that Verity had to muscle her way next to her so she, too, could peer outside.
The pinging had stopped, but beyond their reflection, all she saw was dark, dark, and more dark.
And then something… someone… moved by the crabapple tree, their shape more shadow than person. Squinting, she cupped her hands around her eyes and pressed them to the glass when the soft glow of a cell phone lit up.
She’d been right.
Reed was in her yard, in the dark, at midnight, tossing pebbles at her window.
And he’d brought his dog.
The light went off, but she knew he was still there. Waiting for her to make a choice.
Be smart, ignore him, and stay in her room.
Or be an idiot, give into her curiosity, and go see what he wanted.
She sighed. Rapped her forehead a few times against the glass, not caring that he could obviously see her. Then, she straightened and crossed her room.
Idiot it was.
She opened her door a crack, looked left, then right before stepping into the hallway. Tiptoed to the stairs then hurried down them, footsteps light, Bella racing past her, tail wagging at this new, fun, nighttime adventure.
She walked through the house to the living room. Held her breath as she unlocked the French door, then opened it and stepped out onto the patio, the concrete cold under her bare feet.
Bella took off like a shot, disappearing around the side of the house.
Triggering the motion sensing light at the corner of the patio.
Crap.
Verity picked up her pace, jogging across the damp grass, only to skid to a stop when she rounded the back corner and saw a shadowy Reed in a crouch, one arm around his dog’s back, his other hand petting Bella’s head. Verity could hear the quiet murmur of his deep voice as he called Bella a good girl. A pretty girl.
Bella vibrated with excitement, pressing against his side as if she couldn’t get close enough, her feet dancing in place.
As if sensing her watching him, Reed lifted his head. He was far enough away from the house that the light didn’t quite reach him, keeping his features hidden.
Knowing him, he was smirking at her.
Couldn’t say she was sorry to miss seeing that.
“For someone who wants nothing to do with me,” she said, infusing her low tone with a hefty dose of prissiness, “you seek me out quite often.”
Titus ran over to her while Reed stood, his movements slow. Jerky.
She narrowed his eyes. Was he drunk?
“I need a place to crash.”
Okay. Definitely possibly drunk if his mumbled, slightly slurred words were anything to go by.
“And this concerns me, why?” she asked, patting Titus’s head, hating that she was in the light. That Reed could easily see her ratty hair tied up in a bun, her snug sleep shorts and baggy Penn State sweatshirt.
Hating how he could study her to his heart’s content, while he stayed in the shadows. Hidden.
Just out of reach.
Story of their whole relationship, right there.
Such as it was.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t concern you.”
Then he turned and walked away.
Well, walked might not be the best word. More like he lurched, his steps unsteady, his gait listing to the left. Titus whined and, after looking up at Verity as if for permission—or maybe in reprimand, dogs were judgy that way—he trotted after his human.
It wasn’t her fault the boy had too much to drink. And it certainly wasn’t her responsibility to make sure he had somewhere sleep it off. He could pass out at any number of places, including his own home, his truck, or on a bench at the park.
She should go inside. Lock the door. Pretend none of this had ever happened.
But she couldn’t, in good conscience, let him drive while he was drunk.
With an exhalation that was less resigned sigh and more irritated growl, she stomped after him.
Hey, she didn’t have to like doing the right thing. She just had to do it.
At least, that’s what her brothers had always taught her.
Even with his stumbling and fumbling, he was almost to the driveway already, so she picked up her pace. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive you home.”
Which would mean waking Urban and telling him what was going on, but that was just a risk she’d have to take. He wouldn’t get mad that she was making sure Reed got home safely.
Reed kept walking.
She hurried around him and almost got knocked off her feet when both dogs decided she was playing some fantastic new game they just had to be a part of and knocked into her, one after the other, and she staggered forward, on her way to taking a header.
But Reed caught her.
Reed.
Caught.
Her.
As in he touched her when he usually did everything in his power not to. His fingers wrapping around her upper arms, their bodies pressed together from hip to chest. It was only for a moment, just long enough to steady her.
Close enough for her to hear the way he hissed in a breath as if touching her was the absolute worst.
As if it pained him.
Then he snatched his hands away.
And stepped back.
Head lowered, gaze on the ground, she breathed carefully through her nose. Her stomach churned with humiliation all because a stubborn, confusing, stupid boy couldn’t stand to touch her.
Even if the way he looked at her said that was all he wanted to do.
Inhaling deeply, she lifted her head, mouth open, ready to demand he hand over his truck keys or she was absolutely calling Miles, when the words dissolved on her tongue.
She made a sound, a cross between a gasp and a sob, and covered her mouth with her trembling hand. Swallowed down that sound and the nausea rising in her throat.
Because Reed wasn’t drunk.
He was hurt.
And he needed her help.