Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(10)
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m good,” he replies easily.
“Have you heard from anyone back home?” Jess still keeps in touch with some of his friends and one of our neighbors, who is supposed to let us know if Mom shows up again.
“Nope. You?”
“No. I didn’t even tell anyone I was leaving.”
“Savage,” he says, his eyes still on the pages of his book.
“I’m not taking any chances.” I don’t elaborate, but he knows what I mean. I’m not risking Eric finding me and trying to drag me back into his fucked-up world. “And you shouldn’t, either,” I add, jabbing a finger into his cheek. He jerks his face away.
“I’m not an idiot. I only told Mel and Danny.” Danny and Melanie are his two best friends, the latter being his sometimes girlfriend. Danny is trustworthy. The jury is still out on Mel.
“I know you aren’t. I just want you to be careful.”
I want a good life for him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in mine. This is his shot—our shot, and I can’t help but feel like it’s going to be ripped away from us at any moment.
Jess assures me that he will and goes back to his book while I opt for watching Jimmy Fallon, and it’s not long before I feel myself drifting off to sleep.
* * *
IT’S MIDNIGHT BEFORE I GET home, hands cramping due to a combination of a long session and my tendency to choke up on my grips when I’m tattooing. All I want to do is crash, but when I open my door, I see my buddy’s girl, Briar, standing with her arms crossed, and Asher Kelley sitting on the couch. He only shrugs when I shoot him a look.
“You know how she gets,” he says by way of explanation.
“Dammit, Dare. When are you going to realize you have people who give a shit about you?”
“What’s she pissed about now?” I ask tiredly, tossing my keys onto the counter and bracing my palms on the edge of it.
“You missed dinner,” Kelley says, an amused smirk on his face.
“Shit, my bad.”
Briar seems to think I’m going to self-destruct at any moment. She has this rule that I go to their house once a week for dinner, but “dinner” is really code for make sure Dare has some social interaction that doesn’t involve a client and has at least one meal that doesn’t come from a microwave per week. In the two years that I’ve known her, she’s somehow weaseled her way into my life, bringing my friend count up to a total of four. Five, if you include Adrian, Briar’s friend who is even more intent on befriending me than she was for some fucking reason. The guy doesn’t even live in River’s Edge, but you’d think he does by how often he’s here, in my shop, in my house. Why is it that the few friends I do have are always in my space, completely oblivious to my propensity to be a loner?
Briar gives me a sad shake of her head. I don’t like disappointing her. She’s like a little sister. An annoying sister, but a sister nonetheless.
“I’ve been distracted between my truck, and there was this fucking girl—”
“Girl?” Briar asks, perking up, and I roll my eyes. “There’s a girl? What girl?”
“Jesus Christ.” I should not have said a damn word.
“Dare, did you meet a girl?” Briar asks again, coming to stand next to me in the kitchen.
“Like, one you don’t have to blow up first?” Ash chimes in from his place on the couch.
“Fuck off. She’s just some chick who came in looking for a job.”
“Hmm,” Briar says, cocking her head to the side, looking for any sign of deception. “But she’s distracting you?”
“Drop it, Briar. There’s more chance of me dating you than this girl.” That earns me a pout from Briar and a death glare from Asher. It’s true, though. I don’t date, as cliché as that sounds. I fuck when porn and my hand lose their appeal. And I’m selective about who I fuck. I prefer them to be tourists for a few reasons. They’re never here for long, therefore can’t, or shouldn’t, rather, expect anything long-term—but that’s not to say I don’t get the occasional clinger.
For the most part, though, they come into town, the good girls looking for a night with the bad boy, and then go back home to their Ivy League boyfriends, feeling like they got something out of their system. Tourists also don’t know my history, which is an added bonus. I don’t like anyone knowing my business. Not even Kelley knows the extent of my past, and he’s the closest thing I have to family and the one person who would understand, given his own similar past. I’ve hinted at what happened when he was going through his own shit, but I don’t talk about it. Cordell and his brother Cam know because we were friends back then, but they know better than to bring it up. It’s an unspoken rule. I relive that shit in my head every single night. I don’t need to be reminded of my mistakes out loud.
“For the record, I don’t believe you. But I’ll let it go. For now.” She tacks the last part on, narrowing her eyes and pointing her finger at me in an attempt to look threatening. It’s hilarious, really, considering she’s about as intimidating as a pet bunny. “And you can make it up to me by coming to my party next week,” she says, blue eyes big and hopeful.