Wicked Restless (Harper Boys #2)(108)
“I thought it was about time we exchanged numbers,” I say through a half-hearted laugh. Andrew makes the same sound, pulling his phone in his hands and typing me a message. I read along as he types I LOVE YOU, then slides his phone back onto his table, pulling me into his arms again.
I have him. He’s mine, and I’m his. And we’ve left this wake of destruction, disaster, and remorse all about us to get here, yet I hold onto him tightly feeling somehow justified that it was still all worth everything.
“I don’t want you to fight him,” I exhale, tucking my face into his arms, burying myself into him even more. His body grows rigid—he didn’t realize I knew.
He doesn’t answer, but I feel his chin adjust above my head, his breathing slow, a silent apology.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I finally admit, and he holds me tighter, kissing my head, then whispering one more promise in my ear.
“I won’t,” he says. “I can’t walk away, Emma, but I won’t let him hurt me…or you. I swear.”
I nod okay, but stay in my cocoon of his arms, not sure that he can keep this promise. Graham is two different people, and they are both manipulative, each possessing a different kind of charm. And now that I’ve seen both sides, I worry that there’s yet another side I haven’t seen—one that doesn’t live in the rational, human world, and one that holds grudges and seeks revenge at any cost. The thought that Andrew’s exactly that type doesn’t warm my heart either—and I’m afraid when they’re forced together, the destruction will be impossible to come back from.
Chapter 20
Andrew
Well that went about as well as I expected.
I woke up early, leaving Emma a note, then rushed to her apartment before work so I could try and talk with Lindsey. She never unhooked the chain, only opening the door wide enough to gain some distance to slam it closed. I think if my fingers or face had been in the way, she would have used more muscle, too.
I slid the letter under her door anyhow, begging her to meet me after work this morning at the coffee shop on her corner. I figured it would be safe. I didn’t think Emma would walk down this street until she knew it wouldn’t result in a painful run-in with her roommate.
I glance through the window as I walk toward the entrance, and the café is nearly empty, minus one or two students holed up in a booth with their laptops and piles of books. I glance at my watch, which says I’m right on time, then take a deep breath as I walk through the door and prepare for my plan to crash and burn.
“I’ll take a large iced coffee,” I say to the guy behind the counter. He pulls out a cup and writes my order on the side of it, then rings me up on the register. I remove my wallet to pay.
“Add a non-fat soy latte to that,” I hear over my shoulder. I don’t startle, but I definitely breathe. I nod yes to the guy, then hand him my card, paying for both orders.
“Thanks for coming,” I say, turning enough to the side to catch her profile. She’s dressed in a business suit, her hair pinned back in a clip, and the look surprises me a little.
“I have an interview. It’s for an internship at the clinic. You get fifteen minutes,” she says through tight lips.
We both wait for our coffees in awkward silence, then I follow her to a small table near the corner windows. Might as well be on display for everyone that walks by; maybe it will keep her from hitting me again.
“Your chin looks like shit,” she says, blowing on her coffee after removing the lid. I chuckle and run my finger along the rough stitches, then pull the lid from my coffee to take a drink.
“Look, I know you didn’t want to come here this morning, so thank you. Thank you for coming,” I say, setting my cup down and folding my hands together, my elbows resting on the table.
“I didn’t come for you. I came because you said I needed to know about Emma,” she says. Her tone is angry and clipped, but she admitted she came here for Emma, and that’s all I need to hear.
“Right. Emma,” I say, cracking my knuckles and looking at my hands.
“I swear to god, Drew, if you’re here to tell me you made a mistake, and you’re going to break up with her now, I will punch you again—right in those stitches,” she says, pointing one of her perfectly polished nails right at my chin. I don’t doubt her threat for a second, so I lean back in my seat to give me some distance, and inhale to calm myself and make sure I get through to her—about how much she means to Emma, and how much Emma needs her now.
“That Graham guy, the one she went out with a couple nights ago? He hit her, Linds. That douchebag hit her, and I…I don’t know what else, but I know she fought, and it could have been worse,” I say, my nostrils flaring as the anger boils inside. Lindsey holds her gaze on me, her brow lowering just a touch, her lips pursing tighter, and I can tell that she still loves Emma by the way her breathing turns into a charge of fury.
“What is she going to do?” she asks, her eyes not leaving mine.
I breathe in deeply and push my cup a few inches along the table, wiping away the cold, wet ring it leaves behind on the table. “Nothing,” I say. I feel Lindsey lean forward with the urge to speak, so I keep going. “And I guess there isn’t much she can do. He’s that doctor’s son, and it would make things complicated. Honestly, at this point? You probably know more about that part of her life than I do. I told her she should say something to someone, or at least talk to someone…other than me. She’s just…she’s just going to move on, though, I guess. But I think it would help a hell of a lot if you were around to help her.”