Second Chances (The Lust List: Devon Stone #2) Page 3

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “But you have it now. You can find out what you were wondering. You have your answers yet you aren’t in any rush to see them?” I feel like I’m mumbling nonsense as I fight to stay awake.

  He gives a soft laugh. “Often. The answers don’t bring any resolve. I’m right where I want to be right now. What’s in that envelope won’t make anything better. So I’ll leave it.”

  And again he makes life seem so effortless. It’s me and him, lying together in his bed as he lures me to sleep with his steady breathing and firm, warm body. He acts like things are so easy.

  Ignore the bad stuff. Bask in the good.

  Do what you want. When you want.

  Push away all the negativity. All the guilt. All the demons of memories past…

  * * *

  “Can I talk to you?”

  Jared waltzes into my room, unannounced, again. This kid has no clue what privacy means. I give him a dirty glare and turn away, my phone still pressed to my ear. “Tyler, Jared just burst in thinking his time’s more important than anyone else’s. Can I call you back?”

  “Yeah, whatever. I’m probably gonna be gone though.”

  Tyler and I are almost a year into our relationship. At seventeen-years-old, that’s record-breaking for me. We’re like an old, married couple at this point. We even call each other “Mr.” and “Mrs.”. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t planned out some of the details of our eventual wedding.

  “Wait. I thought you said you weren’t going out with them.” He wants to hang out with the group, but there’s a new girl infiltrating it, Kelsey, and I don’t like how she flirts with Tyler. Since I’m grounded for breaking curfew, I made him promise he wouldn’t hang around her.

  “Relax. Nothing’s going to happen. And if you hadn’t gotten in trouble, you’d be coming with. So I’ll just pretend you’re there, ’kay?”

  I hardly feel better. He loves the attention he’s getting from her. I can tell.

  I hang up with Tyler and sigh as I turn back to my annoying little brother.

  “What?” I snap.

  He takes another step into my room and closes the door behind him. “You might want to sit.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. Tell me whatever it is so you can leave me alone.”

  I sulk to my bed. Pissed that I’m grounded and pissed that I don’t know what Tyler will be doing tonight. But he loves me. He told me so.

  “Okay, well,” Jared starts, “you know how… Or–um…Well, my friend, Rhys. You know him.”

  “You mean Reese’s Pieces? Of course, I know him. He’s only been your best friend since you were in kindergarten.” Must be nice. I don’t think I have any friends I’ve known that long. But Jared and Rhys are inseparable, like the brother he never had.

  “Right. So…uh.”

  “Dude. Spit it out.” He’s being more obnoxious than usual.

  Jared inhales a deep breath and spits out the next line as fast as he can, his eyes closed. “Don’t tell mom and dad, but Rhys is my boyfriend now. Like, we’re–we’re a couple. Like you and Tyler.”

  His shoulders drop like he’s released a two hundred-pound barbell.

  And my reaction is one hundred percent genuine.

  I burst out laughing. “You’re so full of shit.”

  Jared gay? Right. He’s only a freshman but already on the junior varsity baseball team. He isn’t some feminine kid in drama club.

  “Why would I lie about this?” he asks. His face is firm and serious.

  “Because you’re bored. You’re trying to mess with me. Now go away.”

  Instead of leaving my room, he walks to my bed and sits down next to me. He really can’t take a hint.

  “I like guys,” he says, looking me straight in the eye. “No one knows. Only you. And Rhys.”

  “I don’t believe you. There’s nothing gay about you–”

  “You think there’s some flashing sign that goes off near gay people?” Now he sounds defensive. Shit. Maybe he’s being serious. “Gay people are just like you. Just like everyone. You know what is gay about me? The fact I have a boyfriend.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  We weren’t exactly close. We’d been at each other’s necks for years. As little kids, we were best friends, but somewhere around puberty, our bond had dissolved.

  “I don’t know who else I can go to. I thought you’d be understanding, open.”

  Thanks for trying to make me feel guilty.

  I comb my fingers through my hair. This week, I have pink streaks in it. “Sorry. Wow.”

  I’m pretty speechless.

  “Please don’t tell mom and dad.”

  “They’d freak,” I say.

  “I know. So promise.” There’s a sense of desperation in his voice.

  “I promise.” How long has it taken him to even come to me? How long has he known and been hiding it? I think to all the times I’ve seen him with Rhys. No one could have ever guessed. I feel a sudden sadness imagining being in his position.

  If he thought he could trust me, then I’ll be someone he can trust.

  “They won’t find out,” I confirm. “They won’t find out.”

  Find out.

  “Find out who the fuck this is, now.” Someone is shouting. “… I don’t care how long it takes. It’s your goddamn job … Privacy my ass, just find out.”

  My eyes jolt open. It’s morning, and I don’t know where I am. A strange bed. A strange room. A strange voice, yelling. My heart almost leaps through my chest as I sit up in a panic. Where am I?

  My hazy mind starts to clear, and things begin to make sense. Devon. I’m in his room. In his condo. He’s the one yelling. I reach for my phone right as I remember I don’t have it. It’s okay. You’re okay, O. I climb out of bed and stumble to the railing of his upstairs loft. The floor seems to tilt and shift under my feet. Devon’s down in the living room, pacing, with his phone to his ear. His shoulders are squared off and tense. I can’t help but gaze at his bare chest. Why did I have to get all emotional last night? We’d gone from steamy potential to Devon soothing my troubled mind to sleep. And now he’s in a fury on the phone. Who’s he talking to?

  I lean into the cool, metal rails trying to focus on the real world, but my mind returns to the vivid memories that have taken over my dreams for years. I’d kept my promise to Jared. I never told. My parents never knew…until the rumors started. Then they argued about the validity. Mom said it didn’t matter. Dad said it was preposterous. He didn’t have a gay son. He’d never allow that. Mom cried because they didn’t have a son at all anymore. I stayed out of it all. Like Devon told me last night, the truth wasn’t going to fix anything. It wouldn’t get better.

  No, stop thinking about it. Five years ago, and it was still a fresh wound. I take a deep breath pushing out the bad thoughts, and as they drift away, a pounding headache settles in the vacant space. Perfect. A hangover, a nightmare, and a bad ending to a promising night.

  I stare down at Devon whose disheveled hair makes me smile. He’s pacing barefoot across the living room floor clenching his fist as he speaks to whoever is on the phone. I stand up straighter intending to go down and meet him, but the headache knocks against my brain harder, and my stomach tightens. It’s suddenly hot in here, and each inhale makes my throat constrict.

  I’m going to be sick.

  I rush to Devon’s bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. Please don’t come up here now. I throw myself toward the toilet in time to empty the contents of my stomach. That’s what I get for drinking so much and eating so little.

  I sit on the cold tile floor, last night’s dress now wrinkled and out of place. I couldn’t feel trashier if I tried. After a minute, I force myself to stand, flush the toilet, and wash my hands. I open the medicine cabinet hoping to find mouthwash and succeed. While swishing the minty liquid around my mouth and focusing on my breathing to ease the sick feeling in my stomach, I notice the med
icine cabinet is well stocked… Condoms next to the Tylenol. Warming lotion next to dental floss. And multiple orange bottles with unidentifiable pills inside. Prescriptions… for what?

  Listening intently, I can hear the threatening tone in Devon’s muffled voice as he continues his conversation. He’s still downstairs, so I grab the only bottle that still has a label and read what I can make out of the dirty, faded text.

  L Shel

  Who’s that? Why does Devon have someone else’s prescription? What are these for? Looking at the label on this one, it’s hard to not jump to conclusions.

  Vicodin.

  I check another bottle and read the imprinted name on the round pills. Percocet.

  And a third bottle. Valium.

  Are they all meant for this “L Shel” person? I’m not an idiot. It’s illegal for him to have these. And it’s stupid. Hell, there are reports, practically weekly, of high-profile people losing their lives after mixing prescriptions.

  A knock on the door and I almost drop the bottle I’m holding. I silently replace it and close the medicine cabinet door. “Yeah?” I ask.

  “You okay?”

  I check myself in the mirror, attempt to fix my hair, and wipe away the smudged makeup under my eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I take a deep breath as I try to believe my own words. My hands shake, and I swallow back a number of arguments.

  I walk to the door and open it to find Devon standing in the middle of his room, clutching his phone in his hand. He’s still pissed. And so am I. How can someone like him be so…so stupid about his own wellbeing? But for now, Devon’s rage clearly surpasses my own frustration.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. Also, what the hell’s up with the drug store in your bathroom?

  “I opened the will.”

  “Oh?” My stomach’s doing backflips while a marching band drums on my brain, so I go back to his bed to sit down. “I take it you were right? Your dad wrote you out of it?”

  “Not exactly. He intends to leave me with much less than I expected–though I shouldn’t be surprised–but considering he’s probably going to outlive all of us, none of that will matter any time soon. No, there was something weird in it. There’s a request in it to ‘continue transferring $5,000 every month to M. H. of Bandon, Oregon’. Now, why does some stranger need $60,000 a year from my father? And how long has he been paying this person?”

  “So you want to know who it is?” Maybe another time I’d find all this exciting. Instead, I’m distracted by the questions I have now and how to approach Devon with them. He’s already angry, and I’m not sure I want to deal with his wrath.

  “Damn right I do. Obviously, he’s made some sort of deal. What info does he have that he’s hiding? My dad’s paid plenty of people off through the years. But no one has seen a regular payout like this. Especially not one that’ll continue when he dies.”

  “So how do you find out? And how do you know it’s a guy?”

  “I don’t, but my private investigator has till the end of the day to get me something.”

  His private investigator? “Why do you have a–”

  “Long story. Want some coffee?”

  I guess that’s the end of that. “Yes. Please.”

  He walks downstairs, and I scoop my heels up off the floor next to his bed and follow slowly behind him, glancing back at the bathroom door as it disappears from my view. By the bottom step, I’m feeling woozy. Deep breaths.

  “On second thought. Maybe I should get going.”

  “What’s your rush? I’ve got nothing going on today. You?”

  I take a seat at a bar stool in his kitchen. “Aside from the ongoing search for employment?”

  “Right, you quit. Wish I’d been there to see it.”

  “It wasn’t impressive.” Well, maybe it was for me.

  “You should give yourself more credit.”

  I shrug my shoulders. How am I supposed to believe him when he’s hiding things from me? Is this how it’ll always be?

  “How do you like your coffee?”

  “Strong. With cream and sugar.” I can’t keep ignoring the elephant in the medicine cabinet. Small talk is only making it more stressful. I breathe in slowly, willing myself to relax and say something. Anything. “I need to ask you something.”

  He brings a mug to me and nods toward the couch. “Sit. Drink.”

  I don’t know if he’s ignoring me or if he didn’t hear. “No.”

  “What?”

  I grip the steaming mug, letting the heat seep into my palms. “I’m sorry. I was in your bathroom earlier. I saw the…I saw the pills.” There, I said it. Now it’s up to him to explain himself.

  “You snooped through my things?” An annoyed scowl crosses his face.

  That’s not the point. Doesn’t he at least feel ashamed? I’m not going to let him turn this around on me.

  “I needed something, so I looked in the most logical place.” I look away from his cold glare. “I didn’t mean to find anything–I mean, I didn’t expect to see illegal—”

  Devon bursts out laughing and rolls his eyes. “It must be great being you–such a law-abiding good girl.” He walks over to me and drinks his coffee as if we’re having a leisurely chat. He looks me right in the eye and says, “I bet your story about skipping school–experimenting, as you claimed–was all bullshit, wasn’t it?”

  “No, Devon,” I argue. My hands are shaking so bad I have to put my mug on a table to keep from burning myself. “I’m not the liar here.”

  He lowers his voice, and the room seems to grow colder. “Are you saying I am?”

  “Why are they in your bathroom?” My voice shakes.

  “It’s none of your goddamn business. How’s that for an answer?”

  I have to get out of here. If he’d rather fight and be cruel than explain himself and clear my worries, then why am I here? What is there for us if Devon’s only going to continue hiding himself from me?

  My stomach aches, and my head spins. “I need to go home.”

  “You’re really going to make a big deal about this.” He shakes his head.

  I stand firm, my arms crossed in front of me. I’m barely keeping it together. My legs feel weak, and I want to scream. But on the outside, I try to appear as confident and unrelenting as Devon.

  He pulls his phone out and turns away from me.

  “Mark. Come pick up Olivia and see she gets home.”

  A few seconds later, he hangs up and looks back at me. “Down the elevator and out the doors on the right. He’ll meet you out front.” And with that, he goes upstairs, and I hear the bathroom door slam shut.

  My body trembles as I strap my heels on and hurry out. During the elevator ride down I breathe back my own tears unsuccessfully, finally giving in and letting the stress take control of me. The doors open at the ground floor, and I wipe my eyes as I follow Devon’s directions and leave through the doors.

  But I didn’t expect to walk straight into a gym–an open gym. Filled with dozens of men working out and lifting weights and toweling sweat from their faces. And every one of them turns toward me as I push through the doors and make my way to the exit. I can feel my face turn beet red. Here you see a random girl, in yesterday’s fancy gown, interrupting your workout routine. Never mind the smeared makeup or the fact I’m about to have a panic attack. Carry on. I cross my arms in front of me, digging my nails into my skin. I’m okay. Just need to walk faster. The sound of heavy metal clanging against more heavy metal makes me jump, and I break out in a sweat as I rush through the glass doors and out into the open air. As promised, Mark waits at the curb. I jump in the back, tell him my address, and settle against the leather seats, my gaze focused on the sights outside. I feel sick and guilty. Like I screwed up in a major way. I doubt his other girlfriends have ever had a problem with Devon’s secrets. But I’m not them. I don’t know if I could ever be them.

  We pull up to my apartment complex, and I couldn’t be more relieved. I feel like a fool having to kn
ock on the door of my own home, but that’s what I get for ditching my stuff in my glorious act of boldness last night.

  Last night.

  It feels like it happened weeks ago. One week with Devon–one night with him–and my entire life feels like it’s not my own.

  I bang on the door again, more persistent this time.

  I hear rushed steps and a sing-song voice from inside. “Walk of shame. Walk of shame,” Maddie’s singing to me, and I can only wish I had sexier news to share.

  The door swings open to reveal my too-excited roommate wrapped in a sheet, grinning from ear to ear.

  “I have to say,” she starts, “I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I go to push past her, but she embraces me in an awkward hug instead.

  “Careful, you’re going to lose your cover.” As long as it took her to answer the door, she could have thrown on some clothes. I walk in and survey the living room. “Please tell me you grabbed my purse. I left it next to yours.”

  “It’s in your room, but let’s not pretend nothing happened. Spill it, girl. I want details.”

  I ignore her. The truth is disappointing. She’d be much happier hearing about a wild night of naked shenanigans. I walk into my room, but she follows. My purse lies in the middle of my still-made-up bed. The comforter is free from wrinkles just like I left it yesterday. I can’t think of the last time I was out all night. It makes the image of my untouched bed that much stranger.

  “So what was he like? Sweet and gentle? Or rough and dirty? I bet he’s the rough and dirty type. And a Mr. VIP on top of it.”

  “Mr. What?” I pull my phone out of my purse only to find it dead, so I plug it in as Maddie continues rambling. I walk to my closet and throw on jeans and a tank top, discarding my pretty dress on the floor.

  “VIP. Very Impressive Penis. You really don’t stay up-to-date on ScandalLust do you? I think it originated at LUSH. I swear so many trends come out of that club, yet I can never get in.” She bounces onto my bed still clutching the sheet and looking like she’s on her way to a toga party. “It’s true, right? The VIP status?”