Wicked Restless (Harper Boys #2)(112)

It’s quiet between us for several seconds, and I work to regain control of my emotions, knowing Andrew will return home any minute. I focus on every breath, thinking of Andrew’s smile, and forcing out the thoughts of Graham and his devil eyes.

“He doesn’t listen to me, Emma. Andrew Harper listens to Andrew Harper,” Trent says through a faint laugh. “But he’s been a lot more reasonable since you showed up, so maybe…just maybe…he’ll come around before he does something really stupid. I know that’s what I’m hoping for…”

The sound of the key in the door has Trent on his feet, and his face is a full smile as Andrew walks inside—no sign of the worry I saw seconds before.

Andrew slides two six-packs of beer into the fridge, pulling out a bottle for him and me before peeling away the caps and placing a cold one in my hand. Trent finishes his first, then reaches into the fridge to grab a fresh one to catch up to us, tapping Andrew on the shoulder as he moves to stand next to him, holding the top of his beer out to tap into one another.

“To friendship, and finally getting what you deserve,” Trent says, his eyes flitting to me. I smile, knowing that he’s trying to give a subtle hint to Andrew that he has so much going for him right now. Unfortunately, I fear those words ring about revenge in Andrew’s mind.

“To getting what you deserve,” he says, an ominous smirk on his lips. “Soon enough.”

I can feel his body growing hostile at the thought of Graham, and I can tell how much he wants to make him pay. Panicked, I push my beer bottle into his next, just before he can pull it away to take a sip. I’m not satisfied with this toast, and I want to throw out a Hail Mary.

“And to remembering what you have…what’s here to come home to,” I say, causing him to turn to me, his head falling to the side and his eyes meeting mine instantly.

“To you,” he says. “The reason I do anything,” he adds with a whisper. I close my eyes, holding my breath as he pulls my head into him and kisses the top, cradling me in his arm.

“I’m drinking to this, but just so we’re clear here, Em, that last part of the deal is just you two,” Trent says, motioning his beer between Andrew and me. I laugh, but it’s a fa?ade. Andrew’s is genuine, and as he tilts his beer to drink, Trent and I exchange one last glance—and I can tell he’s just as worried as I am.





Chapter 21





Andrew



Saturday was a blur. We won our hockey game, and Emma came with me again. This time, we joined the team at Majerle’s. Emma and I only stayed for an hour, anxious to race home to be alone. The newness of it all is part of it, along with the longing we’ve both endured—at least I know I’ve endured. But it’s more than that, too. This all feels fleeting, like there are hurdles yet to clear. I know that’s partly my fault.

She hasn’t asked me not to go since we last talked about the fight. She won’t ask—I can tell. But I also know she doesn’t want me to. I know I could handle him. I think she knows it, too. She wants it. But she’s afraid of the unexpected. The things we couldn’t plan for have been our downfall so many times.

We’ve lain here the entire morning, her running her fingers up and down my arm and back while I press my face to the side in my pillow and stare at her. I like the way she looks at me—like I’m someone.

“You were really amazing last night,” she hums.

I smirk, and bunch my shoulder. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” I tease. Her hand stops moving and she brings it down on my shoulder with a quick smack. “Owwwww!”

I grab her, rolling her over so she’s pinned beneath me, her eyes lit up with her laughter, her hair a chaotic storm of smoke around her.

“I meant at your hockey game, you cocky *,” she says, rolling her eyes, but giving way to laughter again as I push my thumbs into the ticklish spots along her sides.

“I know,” I say, my forehead against hers. Our laughter fades into a rhythmic breath and I close my eyes, feeling the tip of my nose brush against hers until I find my way to her lips. “I was just hoping I was amazing at other things, too,” I speak against her mouth, biting my lip, then hers.

“You were,” she says against me, her lips closing the slight distance until we’re kissing so hard it feels as if it’s for survival.

It feels as if it could be the last.

My phone buzzes with a text, and we both pause our movement until I lift myself enough to look into her eyes, neither of us happy.

“You should get that,” she says, her face falling to the side, away from my phone.

Away from me.

I take a deep breath and lean to the edge of the bed, rolling away from her until I sit with my feet on the floor. It’s nearly noon; we’ve slept most of the day away. I open my messages to find one from Harley. I knew it was him.

The fight is set for six at his gym. They’re usually later, and it strikes me how rushed and unprofessional everything about this feels compared to the fights I’ve done for him before.

I text him back OKAY, then close my phone before turning to take in Emma, still lying in my bed with her back to me. I lay back down behind her, running my palm up the perfect line of her spine, sweeping her hair to the side and pressing my lips on the back of her hot neck.