Author: Teresa Mummert

“Facts, Abel. Facts. I took a pill that came from you last night.”

I felt his eyes on my flesh. “I’m so sorry for that.”

“Don’t be. I liked it. It was nice feeling…” I was at a loss for words to describe how incredible I’d felt last night. “I felt full of love.” I wasn’t about to play a victim or let Abel know how much I regretted taking that drug. I wasn’t a child. People didn’t treat Trish like she had done something wrong, and they shouldn’t treat me that way either. College was about making mistakes, trying new things without caring about tomorrow. I just wanted to be left alone while I fucked up my life.

“I used to sell,” he said. “I had no other choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” I replied quietly, my bitchy tone evaporated by his honesty.

“Yeah. I guess there is. Survive or lie down and die. I chose. Not something I’m proud of.”

“Where’d you get all that money?”

His eyes met mine, and he seemed to be thinking over his response. The truth doesn’t need to be thought over, so I just rolled my eyes and looked out ahead to the tree line. I was growing bored of the half truths and judgments.

“You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?” he asked me.

I smiled because I knew he was going to cave. “Not a chance.”

“All right. My parents had money. Lots of money. I never wanted for anything. But then I had to move in with my grandpa here in Florida when I was thirteen.”

“Why did you have to move? Were you, like, a bad kid or something? Why wouldn’t they make sure you had money to live?”

“It’s your turn,” he said.

“My turn to what?”

“What’s your story? I know you’re not like these assholes, so spill it. How did you end up with Trish?”

I shrugged as I stared at the warped boards of the porch. “I moved here to be with my uncle. We’re practically strangers. My family never had money, but it’s better here.”

“Better how?”

“It’s your turn.”

He grinned and blew out a loud breath. “I wasn’t a bad kid.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“How long have you lived here?” he asked me. “If you didn’t just come here for sunshine and college, then why?” He leaned back on his elbows with a groan.

“About a year and because I had no choice.”

“We always have a choice, Lie,” he replied playfully, using my own words against me.

“I made the wrong ones, I guess, and now here I am.”

Abel flicked his cigarette into the yard as the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds.

“You’re not making any better ones here.” His eyebrow rose, and I lay back beside him on the porch as we stared up at the sky.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black.” I smirked as I thought of having to explain that saying to Brock.

He laughed, and the boards below me vibrated. “Well, Kettle, I’m trying to make the right ones. It isn’t always that easy.”

“Nothing is ever easy, Pot.” We both laughed then fell silent. “How did you get that scar?” I asked him, as I propped myself up on my side, resting my weight on my elbow, my head in my hand. My eyes scanned the pink‐and‐white line across his ribs that marred his tanned skin.

“Boating accident.” His smile faded, and I waited for him to share more, but he didn’t. He reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I thought your eyes were gray.”

“Fuck. My contacts. Did I take them out last night?”

He shrugged. “Brown suits you. It’s like…the earth.”

“You mean like dirt? Gee, thanks, Abel. I hate them. My mom used to say I was so full of shit that my eyes were brown.”

“She sounds fun.” He smiled.

“She wasn’t.” I rolled onto my back and squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears from falling.

“Shit, Lie. I’m sorry.” He was up on his side now, over me.

“Don’t be. I should get home.” I began to sit up, but Abel pushed my shoulder back down.

“Don’t do that. I’m not as big of an asshole as you think.”

“I don’t think you’re a big asshole.” I grabbed his arm and pretended to examine his muscles. “I mean…come on. Do you even lift, bro?” My words dripped with sarcasm, and he shook his head and tried to hide his smile.

“Tell me what’s going on with you and Brock.”

“What?” I was caught completely off guard. “I don’t want to talk about Brock, and it’s none of your business.”

“I held you for hours last night while you cried over him. The least you could do is tell me why.”

“I just miss him. That’s all.”

He shook his head. “Did he…hurt you?”

“Are you serious? No! Of course he didn’t hurt me. Brock would neverhurt me.”

“It’s just…if I loved someone, I wouldn’t be able to stay away from them.” His eyes locked on mine, and his gaze fell to my lips, causing me to lick them. As our eyes met again, I pushed him back so I could sit up, and he didn’t try to stop me this time.

“I really do need to get home.”

“Let me grab my shirt.” He stretched as he stood, towering over me. He had to be around six feet tall, and I felt small next to him.

He disappeared inside the house and came back a few minutes later wearing a deep‐gray shirt.

“Good news! I found your contacts. Bad news is that they were on the floor.”

“Ugh. I have another pair at home.” We headed toward his Barracuda.

“Guess I didn’t need to throw that pair on the floor then.”

I reached to my side and smacked him on the stomach.

“It was a fucking joke!” He put his hands up to keep me from hitting him again as he laughed.

Abel pulled open the passenger door, and I slid inside and waited for him to make his way to the driver’s side. I opened the glove box and pulled out the container of pills from last night, and my fingers bumped something hard. I lifted a stack of papers and pulled out a heavy silver gun. My gut twisted, and I froze with the weapon in my hand.

“Whoa. Let’s put that back where we found it, sweetheart.” He took the gun from my hand and slid it back in its hiding spot. I shook the bottle of pills, and his eyes narrowed and he took them too.

“Why do you have a gun? They’re dangerous.”

“Guns aren’t dangerous. People are.”

“Trust me…I know.Why do you have it?” I tried to shake the grim thoughts of my past from my mind.

Abel laughed and shook his head. “Been watching a lot of movies, Lie? You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of you. I just want to know what it’s for.”

“It’s for protection. It’s to keep me safe, not to hurt anyone else.”

“I’m starting to think you aren’t a nice guy, Abel,” I deadpanned, as I forced my face to go blank so he wouldn’t see how much his having a gun bothered me.

“You think I’m nice?” His smile beamed.

“This is what I get for trusting strangers.” I turned and looked out the passenger window as we pulled out toward the highway.

“Strangers with candy.”

“You are such a drug dealer.”

“You’re nosy.”

“Asshole,” I mumbled under my breath to get the last word in. The guy who had held me all night and opened up to me about his past was gone, and the arrogant jerk from yesterday was back.

“You know, Kettle, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to hurt my feelings.”

“Is it working?” I asked dryly as I looked at him. He was focused on the road ahead and didn’t respond. I reached out and changed the radio station. He gave me a sideways glance but didn’t change it back. In fact he sang along, and his voice was low and gravelly and downright sexy.

“Not bad. You ever think of quitting your drug‐dealing day job and becoming a singer?”

“No, actually.” His fingers drummed the steering wheel, but I thought it was more from nervousness than keeping beat with the song. “My mom was a singer. Not really my thing.” He turned up the radio and switched the station to classic rock.

We pulled up outside my apartment building a few minutes later, and I yawned, dying for some caffeine.

“We could go get some coffee if you want,” he said.

“I try not to consort with criminal types.”

“Am I really that bad?” He stared at me for a long moment.

“Fine. Let me get Trish. I’m sure she could use the pick‐me‐up, and she’s dying to spend time with you anyway.”

“Is she?” he asked smugly. “I wouldn’t have pegged her for the smart one.”

I rolled my eyes and got out of the car, slamming the door behind me.

Chapter Seven

Smoke

The apartment was quiet, and Trish was draped over the couch, her arm over her eyes.

“How’re you feeling?” I asked, as I made my way into my room and stripped off my dress and tugged on a pair of jeans and a tank top. I walked into the hall as Trish headed toward her room.

“Like shit. How do I look?”

“About the same.”

“Whatever. You’re such a whore.”

I tried not to let her comment bother me. Trish had no idea that I was bullied throughout high school, and I knew she didn’t mean it like they did, but it still made me want to replace her shampoo with hair remover.

“I can make you feel better,” I called out, as she closed her bedroom door.

“How?” Her door popped back open, and she stuck her head out.

“Abel is downstairs, waiting to take us for coffee.”

She beamed and closed her door again so she could get ready. I rolled my eyes and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and fix my hair. I looked like hell warmed over twice. My eyes burned from being so dry, and I decided to leave out my contacts. It had nothing to do with Abel, I told myself.

Trish was ready in record time. She came out of her room in shorts cut high enough to show her butt and a tank top that she filled out much better than I ever could.

I followed her out of our place and down to Abel’s car. She didn’t hesitate to slide into the front seat, and I struggled to squeeze my way into the back. Abel’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, and he smirked, clearly amused by my discomfort.

“I’m dying for some coffee. You’re my hero.” Trish was primping her hair as we pulled onto the road.

“A hero? That’s probably the nicest thing I’ve been called today.” He glanced at me again, and I scoffed a little too loudly as I crossed my arms over my chest. I hated being the third wheel, but it was my perpetual place in this fucked‐up world. I lived in the past and merely existed in the present, with no care for my future. That’s just the way it was.

I sank back in my seat as I stared out of the side window, watching the world whirl by as Trish flirted with Abel and scooted herself damn near onto his lap. I slid over behind him so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes in the mirror.

“That was some good shit last night. You think you can hook us up with some more?” she asked, and I lay my head against the cool glass.

“No. Sorry. I don’t sell anymore.”

“Aw…come on.” She pouted and pressed her chest against his arm.

“Do you smell that?” I asked, leaning forward so my face was between theirs.