ALL THE RAGE (writer: T.M. Frazier)(30)

I lay there for hours before finally drifting off with one last thought on my mind as I slipped into a deep sleep.

This girl is going to f*cking kill me.





CHAPTER TWELVE




Rage


On a few occasions, usually over coffee in the morning or dinner out on the deck, Nolan shared more details with me about his parents, how they were never around when he was growing up, as well as more details about his life with them before he came to live with his grandparents. Every time I reported back to Smoke thinking I had enough, he asked for more. I was beginning to think he planned for me to move in permanently. I believed Nolan when he said he didn’t know where they were so it boggled my mind when Smoke kept ordering me to stay put.

For over a week I’d been at the cottage, and with the exception of the pool, I’d cleaned every square inch of the place. Although it was still in need of a lot of repairs, it was really coming along, and I found that I enjoyed taking the time to make it shine again.

I considered sanding and painting the kitchen cabinets and maybe pulling up the carpet in the bedroom to see what might be underneath. I pushed away those thoughts as soon as they came. I didn’t need to get attached, even if it was just to a house.

When Nolan ordered me up off of my knees the week before, something inside me shifted. He may not have understood why I reacted the way I did, but the why wasn’t important to him? rather how I let the situation affect me. I was terrified that every ounce of work I’d put into the relationship I’d built with my parents over the last three years was going to unravel with one conversation with someone I’d just met. The truth of it was that even though my relationship with my parents was based on lies, I wasn’t ready to give them up entirely. Maybe it was selfish of me.

When it hadn’t gone that route and Nolan hung up the phone, I kept replaying what could have happened over and over again in my mind, which was when I crumbled both mentally and physically until Nolan brought me back up to stand again.

Nolan hadn’t tried to touch me again since that night.

The confusing part was that it upset me that he hadn’t. Even worse was that I was asking myself why. The thought that kept crossing my mind, the one that had me the most worried was did I want him to?

What I felt when he looked at me and when he placed his hand on my leg was a full body kind of heat. My skin tingled and came alive. My nipples stiffened and my breasts felt heavy and achy. Then, when he trailed his hand up between my legs, everything inside me tightened. Yes, I definitely wanted him to touch me again. I could spin it a million ways in my mind, but the truth was in the evidence, and since I was being honest with Nolan, as much as I could be anyway, I should probably be honest with myself, too.

Even though I’d never felt it before, not even a tingle of it, I knew exactly what it was that was happening to me when I was around Nolan.

I didn’t even need to look it up on WebMD.

Although, I did.

It had to stop. What I felt HAD TO STOP.

No good could come of it. Which was why I had to spend more time with Nolan and get the information Smoke needed. Whatever the f*ck that actually was remained a mystery, but I would do it, and then I’d finish the job like I always did and get the hell out.

Easy peasy.

Right?

In the meantime, I’d been making good on my fake agreement with Nolan. I cooked, I cleaned, and I cleaned some more. I baked too, making more muffins than the muffin man himself. Anything to distract myself from watching him do push ups on the back deck, which was what he was doing when I placed the third batch of muffins in the oven. By the time he strolled through the cottage using only one crutch, I’d already moved on to polishing his Gran’s silver spoon collection.

His leg had been healing, and at his most recent doctor’s visit, they exchanged his cast for an even smaller one that just covered four inches or so above and below his knee. More and more frequently, he used only one crutch, and some times I caught him limping around with only one.

Nolan disappeared into the bathroom and when he came out he was freshly showered, wearing a tight, black wife beater and a pair of black board shorts, his hair slicked back and wet. He smelled like the rain soap he kept in the shower. He approached me slowly, like a cat about to pounce. His hazel eyes shone mischievously as he grinned at me like he had a secret.

You’re not the only one.

The feeling in my stomach, the pull I felt as he stalked toward me, only confirmed what I already knew.

I wanted him.

I didn’t want to want him.

I wanted to want to kill him.

Nolan

I’ve got it bad. I needed to f*ck her more than I needed my next breath. I was trying to figure out how to crack the shell surrounding the ever-elusive Rage when I had an idea. An idea that I hoped would have her writhing under me sooner rather than later. “I’m taking you out tomorrow night,” I announced. Rage was sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging her tanned legs in the air, scrubbing my grandmother’s silver spoons with a rag.

The house was so much lighter since she’d come crashing into my life. Not just because it was now dust free and spotless either, but because for the first time since my grandparents passed, it felt more like a home and less like a tomb.

“Where are we going?” she asked without looking up from what she was doing.

Any other girl would’ve asked why I was taking her out. Any other girl would look for some sort of motive or intention behind my every action, and with good reason.