Panting, he rested his forehead against mine. “We should try to get some sleep.”
I laughed a little at that. Sleep wasn’t happening. At least I couldn’t see how.
“Come here.” He tucked me against him, pulling my head down to his chest. I listened to the faint drum of his heart. His hand threaded through my hair, his fingers softening when he hit a snarl. “You have beautiful hair.”
I smiled against his chest and then turned my face slightly, self-conscious that he could feel my silly grin against him. That he would know how pleased I was at the compliment. “I can spot you a mile away with this hair. It’s like candlelight. A thousand different colors.”
“A poet bartender,” I murmured, settling my hand against his upper chest.
“Sweetheart, every bartender is a poet.”
“I guess you get to see quite a bit of the world from behind the bar.”
“I see enough. I saw you.”
Still smiling, I started to relax against him. The glide of his fingers through my hair began to lull me. “Tell me more,” I encouraged, my voice sleepy and soft.
His voice rumbled through his chest. “You just want to hear me say that you’re beautiful, is that it?”
I swatted his arm. “Noooo.”
“You know you are. You don’t need to hear me say it.”
My smile slipped. “Why would I know that?”
“Uh. Look in the mirror. Watch the eyes that follow you when you walk into a room.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. The idea oddly discomforted me. My fingers traced lazy circles on his chest.
“Hunter won’t be able to resist you. I don’t know how he has so far.”
I stilled against him, my fingers freezing.
Anger flashed through me. Why did he have to bring Hunter up right now? When we were like this? It just felt . . . I don’t know. Wrong.
“Thanks,” I murmured. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to sleep, to escape my annoyance, escape him. Of course, I was too wound up with irritation—and an aching awareness of him at my back—to have a hope of falling asleep. I was stuck, probably awake until we both got up in the morning.
That was my last thought before my eyes fell shut like lead weights.
Chapter 19
I wait in the bathtub for the noises on the other side of the wall to stop. The voices fade away eventually, and I count to ten, waiting for Mommy to come and get me. She doesn’t come. So I keep waiting and start counting again. This time to twenty.
I hug my knees to my chest and settle back against the blanket lining the tub, hoping I won’t have to spend the night in the bathroom again.
I squeeze Purple Bear, my fingers playing along his soft, well-worn little arms. They used to be plump, full of stuffing. Somehow the stuffing had vanished so that the arms were just flat little appendages of purple fabric now.
The door opens and I peek out from behind the curtain, eager for Mommy, hoping she’s come at last to invite me into the bed with her.
Only it’s not Mommy.
A man stands there, his hair long and wet-looking. His plaid shirt hangs off his narrow shoulders. It’s unbuttoned, open down the front. His soft-looking belly is as white as the bar of soap sitting to my right.
He approaches the toilet, his hand fumbling with his zipper, and I jerk back into the tub, hoping he’ll hurry up with his business and leave. Mommy’s guests never stay long. I must have made a sound though. The shower curtain screeches on the rail as he yanks it back.
He looms over me. “Well. Who do we have here?”
I shrink away, clutching Purple Bear in front of me.
His knees crack as he kneels down beside the tub. “You Shannon’s little girl?”
I nod once.
His dark eyes travel over me, studying my bare legs poking out from Mommy’s T-shirt. He leans forward and peers inside the tub like he doesn’t want to miss any part of me.
“Not so little, eh. You look like a big girl to me.”
His fingers curl around the edge of the tub and they remind me of a corpse, long and thin, white as bone. Several rings flash on them. My gaze fixates on one in the shape of a skull.
If possible I hug Purple Bear even tighter, my arms squeezing around his soft little body. Mommy said he would always protect me. That Purple Bear would keep me safe whenever she wasn’t with me.
“What’s your name?”
“Where’s Mommy?”
“Sleeping.” Two bony fingers stretch out and brush my knee. I whimper and jerk my leg back.
He grins brown, furry teeth at me.
I open my mouth, ready to cry for Mommy, but his hand slams over my mouth, cutting off my voice. My air.
There’s just the foul taste of his hand. And fear. . .
I woke with a choked sob, vaulting upright in bed. Strong hands were instantly there, seizing my arms, and I cried out. Turning, I hit at the body beside me.
“Pepper! What’s wrong?”
The voice didn’t penetrate. I was still trapped in that bathroom, a musty palm suffocating me. Mommy! Mom!
“Pepper!” The hands shook my shoulders. “Pepper. It’s just a dream. You’re okay.”
I blinked against the murky, predawn air. “Reece?”
“Yeah.” He swept the hair back from my face. “Some dream there.”
I nodded.
His thumb brushed my cheek. “You’re crying.”
I released a shaky laugh and dabbed at my cheeks with the back of my hand, feeling the moisture there. “Must have been something I ate.” How could I have been so dumb? The dreams always came without warning. I knew that. I should have known this could happen.
“Something you ate gave you a bad dream?” I heard the skepticism in his voice. “What was the dream about?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You called for your mom.”
My heart clenched. Physically hurt inside my chest. “I did?”
“Yeah.”
Yeah. I called for her all right. That night. And later. The night she dropped me off at Gram’s I cried. I screamed for her. “What else did you hear?”
He studied me, his eyes gleaming in the gloom. “Want to talk about it?”
“No,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “I don’t want to talk about when my mom abandoned me. Left me on my grandmother’s doorstep like I was some rolled-up newspaper.”
He didn’t move. Just held still, hands searing imprints on my shoulders. “That happened?”
Yeah, I thought. That happened. And other stuff that I would never talk about with anyone. I never had. Mom abandoning me? That was no secret. I could give him that little insight into my colorful history. But not the rest.
I nodded, my voice lodged somewhere in my throat, refusing to surface.
He tugged me back down on the bed, his arm wrapping around me. I stared out at my room washed in the soft purple of morning and wished that his arm didn’t feel so good holding me. It wasn’t supposed to. That wasn’t part of the plan.
“Now you know about my dysfunctional family.”
He was silent for a few moments, his hand drawing small circles on my arm. “I understand a bit about dysfunction.”
I turned to stare at him. “Okay. Your turn.”
He groaned. “Do I have to?”
“C’mon. I showed you mine. You show me yours.” It mattered for some reason. Logan had already revealed a lot, but I wanted to hear it from Reece. I wanted him to confide in me.
“Let’s see. You know my mom died when I was eight.”
“Yes.”
“Well, she died because she overdosed on Tylenol. Not on purpose. She had these migraines . . . I remember seeing her pop a few that day. Well, turned out she took a few too many. A lot actually. Her liver shut down in her sleep. She didn’t wake up the next morning.” He uttered this all matter-of-factly, but I saw in his eyes the anguish he kept banked. What had that been like for him? Waking up and finding his mom still in bed, unmoving. Dead.
“Oh my God.”
“My old man was never exactly the warm and fuzzy type before that, but after . . .”
I nodded, understanding.
“Guess we’re not that different, after all,” he added.
I rested my cheek on his chest, knowing we were going to have to get up in a few minutes and get dressed, but for now, we held each other as his words sank in and made my stomach knot. We’re not that different. Two people that didn’t have the faintest clue about belonging to a normal, loving family.
“No. I guess not.”
I hurried across campus, stopping at the crosswalk for the light. I bounced anxiously in place, burying my hands deep in my jacket pockets. I was already late for Statistics.
“Hey, Pepper! Hold up!”
My head whipped around to watch Hunter jogging toward me. He gave me a light hug. I closed my eyes, enveloped in him.
“Hi! How’s it going?”
“Good.” He nodded across the street. “Headed that way?”
“Yeah. Kensington.”
“C’mon. I’ll walk you. I just got out of class.”
We crossed the street together. My hand escaped my pocket to flex nervously around my strap.
“I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving. I need a break.”
“Yeah, me, too,” I returned. “Can’t wait to see Lila.”
He rolled his eyes. “We’ll have to hear about her new boyfriend.”
I tsked. “Behave. This one is nice.”
“Do I have to be? She changes boyfriends like socks.”
“We can’t all be devoted to someone for years on end,” I teased.
He looked at me with wide eyes. “First of all, it was maybe, maybe two years.” He waggled two fingers at me. “And we’re not dating anymore, remember?”
I grinned, staring straight ahead. Sensing his gaze on me, I slid him another look and my pulse quickened at the way he was studying me. Almost like he had never seen me before.
“What about you? Are you dating anyone?” Two things happened in that moment. First, an image of Reece flashed across my mind. Not that it should. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in a week. Not since he spent the night with me in my dorm. Second, I realized that he was asking if I was single. He’d never asked me if I was dating anyone before. Obviously he’d never cared enough to ask. But he cared now.
“No. Not really.”
“Hmm,” he murmured. “You sound a little uncertain. There’s someone. And now your cheeks are pink, so I know I’m right.”
I pressed a hand to my face as if I could feel said pinkness there. “No, they’re not. It’s just chilly.”
“Oh, you have a boyfriend.” He chuckled.
“Shut it! I don’t.” We stopped before the steps leading into Kensington. I stepped to the side, clear of the flood of students passing in and out of the double doors. I stood on the bottom step, which brought me almost to eye level with Hunter.
He smiled, that dimple I loved so much denting his left cheek. “Maybe not yet. But there’s someone. I can see it in your eyes.”
You. I wanted to shout. It’s always been you.
His gaze flicked up and down, quickly looking me over. “You look good, Pepper. Did you do something to your hair?”
“Oh. Thanks.” I smoothed a hand over my hair, glad I’d worn it down and not in a ponytail. “Yeah. Some highlights.” Thankfully my voice sounded natural. Like compliments were something I heard all the time. Reece’s voice floated through my mind. You’re beautiful.
I glanced over my shoulder. “I think I’m late.”
Hunter nodded. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’ll text you. You okay to leave on Wednesday?”
“Sounds good.”