Page 18 of A Wreck, You Make Me (Bad Boys of Bardstown #3)

Chapter Six

THE WRECKING THORN

Of course she ran.

And of course I followed her. Only she had no clue. She still doesn’t. She doesn’t know I’m outside her apartment, right across the street, sitting in my truck.

Watching her bedroom window.

It’s not the sanest thing to do, watching a girl’s window in the middle of the night.

But I’m not exactly sane right now. Or very calm.

I could blame it on the conversation I had with Con in his office today.

And yes, it’s one of the reasons why I’m feeling the way I am.

But it’s not just that. It’s her . She’s the reason I’m feeling angry and aggressive. Restless.

She’s always been the reason.

Jupiter Jones. My little sister’s best friend and the girl, for some strange, strange reason, I don’t ever stop thinking about. I haven’t stopped thinking about her ever since I saw her over a year ago at Callie’s house.

I hate to admit it, but I remember the exact moment I saw her.

It was one of my sister’s get-togethers and I’d just arrived at the backyard where everyone was gathered.

She was standing off to the side, facing away from me, and all I saw was her hair.

Miles and miles of it. Thick and wavy, going down to the small of her back.

I remember thinking I’d never seen hair that long or that thick.

Or even that shade. Which should’ve been bullshit because I have seen redheads before.

I’ve fucked them too. But in all my years of misadventures, I’d never seen a shade like hers, more violet than orange, fucking sparkling under the sun and against the green t-shirt she had on.

I also remember thinking that what I was doing, staring at her without her knowledge, was uncharacteristic of me.

I couldn’t remember the last time I did that.

Probably never. I never had to. Girls always knew who I was, and by the time I looked they’d usually already be looking at me, trying to catch my attention.

Even Isadora had been the one to approach me first.

This strawberry-haired girl had no clue that I saw her first before she ever saw me.

Not until someone—Ledger—clapped my shoulder, and broke the moment. In more ways than one. As in, she realized I was there and spun around, her eyes widening. And like a fucking dumbstruck moron, I thought that just like her hair, I’d never seen eyes that color before, pure emerald green.

In any case, that was that. I put her out of my head.

Or rather tried to. But every time our paths crossed after that, she made me halt in my tracks and look.

I realized she had a shy smile but a loud laugh.

She always stood on the periphery, at the edge of everything, like she wanted to be a part of things but didn’t think she could be.

She was friendly to everyone but only close to a couple of the girls in Callie’s group.

She wasn’t exactly quiet per se, but she wasn’t crazy talkative, and she could be sassy when she wanted to be.

Her favorite color’s purple. She likes anything coconut-flavored but claims her favorite fruit is pineapple.

She loves summer more than winter. She loves to go swimming.

She likes to wear shorts more than skirts, skirts more than dresses.

She always puts her hair up in a bun or a ponytail.

Her freckles sparkle under the sun, and her lips, just like her hair, remind me of strawberries.

But most of all, I realized she watched me.

She didn’t make it obvious, like the other girls.

She didn’t put herself in my path or try to get my attention.

In fact, she did the opposite. She went to great lengths to hide the fact that she had a thing for me.

She went to great lengths to run from me.

She went to even greater lengths to hide that it bothered her to see me with my girlfriend.

It not only bothered her, it broke her heart every time I brought Isadora around.

Her stark green eyes would appear hurt, and her cinnamon-sprinkled features held pain. And it only got worse with time.

To the point where it made me feel like I was doing something wrong.

It felt wrong to put my arm around Isadora.

To smile at my girlfriend in front of her.

It made me feel shitty. Made me feel like I was cheating on her.

It felt like I owed her something. That I owed it to her to mend her heart and wipe all the tears I made her cry.

That it was my fucking job to fulfil her dreams and give her whatever the fuck she desired.

It wasn’t. It isn’t .

She’s nothing to me. Which is why in all our encounters, I’ve told her to stay away from me.

Because it was wrong that I watched her at all.

That I thought about her even when I was with someone else.

That I deliberately flirted with my girlfriend, held her hand, put my arm around her to see another girl’s reaction.

I mean, it doesn’t really get more twisted than that, does it?

I had a girlfriend I was in love with and like a fucking jackass, I couldn’t stop thinking about my little sister’s best friend and her strawberry hair.

What’s even more criminal is what I’m doing right now.

But hey, I never claimed to be a fucking prince.

So I press play on the video again and there she is.

On my phone screen. Facing away at first and bathed in red light.

A few seconds pass and all I can see is her hair in a ponytail, swishing against her delicate back.

That silver halo on her head, twitching with her breath.

And then she turns around, her mouth parted and her chest heaving. Her green eyes all pretty but nervous.

Before she tells me there’s no recording allowed in this room.

I knew that. It wasn’t my first time in one of the back rooms. While I’ve never fucked a stripper in there, which is what those rooms are built for, I’ve enjoyed private showings.

I’ve also never recorded a stripper before.

Never wanted to. Except two nights ago when she danced for me.

I’m not sure why. Maybe because she isn’t a stripper in the first place and she was only dancing for me because I forced her to.

Something about forcing her to do things she doesn’t want to, but likes anyway, gives me a certain kind of satisfaction.

It makes me think I’m teaching her, corrupting her, bending and molding her to my tastes, my will.

It at least makes me hard. Like I am right now as I watch her writhe against the pole, hump it with her tight ass, moving like a porn star with the face of an angel.

I watch and watch until I can’t anymore because if I do, I’m going to blow in my pants like a fucking teenager watching his first X-rated video.

I hop out of my truck and head toward her apartment.

It’s been a while since her bedroom lights went off, meaning she must be asleep.

Again, not the sanest thing to do, walking to a girl’s apartment when she’s asleep with the clear intention of looking through her window, but again, I’m not in my right mind at this moment.

I warned her not to run, but she ran away from me anyway.

Across the street from the restaurant, I watched her say goodbye to that douchebag—who looked like he was about to cry with disappointment; fucking pussy—and felt satisfaction warming my chest that she was doing exactly what I told her to do.

But then instead of walking out through the front door, I watched her walk to the hallway in the back, where the bathrooms are located, and then a couple of minutes later, I saw her coming out of the back alley and going on her merry way like I hadn’t just given her explicit instruction about coming to me.

So I have to do this. I have to make sure she doesn’t run from me. Make sure she stays.

Her window is open—I saw her leave it that way—and I see her, sleeping in her bed.

As always, I see her hair first. Long and thick, spread out on the pillow.

Then comes her cinnamon-sprinkled face, her skin fucking luminescent in the moonlight.

She’s under the covers and sleeping on her side, her lips parted, her eyelashes curled and thick.

And fuck , I think something moves in my chest at how young she looks, how vulnerable and fragile as glass.

I’m not really sure what that was, that little flicker in my body, but I’ve never felt that before.

I don’t know if I like it. I don’t know if I should examine it.

In fact, I don’t want to. I bury it like everything else and without wasting another second, I push the window all the way up and climb inside.

We’re probably going to have a talk about her sleeping with her window open.

It’s not safe, especially when she lives on the first floor and in a part of town that’s known for being shitty. But first things first.

I look around the room and it’s pretty much what a normal bedroom would look like. A dresser, a closet, a little chair and a desk with a lamp on it. There are clothes strewn about on the floor—the dress she wore tonight is folded neatly on the dresser though—and those fucking heels that she ran in.

I’m not sure what I’m looking for except anything I can use to put a leash on her.

So she stays put rather than running away from me every chance she gets.

I mean, I didn’t even know she had a sister until that moron let it slip.

How is it that I know her favorite fucking fruit but I don’t know something so big about her, something that should be common knowledge?

So I need to get to know her. It’s high time anyway.

And since she’s always running away from me, this is the only way.

I move to the desk that sits by the window and pick up a bunch of unopened letters.

They confirm what I’d already suspected.

I mean, you don’t fucking work at a strip club because that’s your life’s ambition.

Not to mention, she fucking hates it. I could see it in her body language.

She does it out of necessity. She does it because she has no choice.

And again, according to Joe, she works multiple jobs and takes care of her sister singlehandedly.

Pair that with the location of her apartment and now these letters—most of which are overdue bills—and I know she hasn’t had a lot of help in her life.

I already know her father fucked off when she was five and fuck knows, where her mother is.

She needs a break. She needs someone to take care of her.

And it’s going to be me.

Because a: I know how it feels. I know how it fucking feels to struggle like this, worrying over money and bills while also taking care of your siblings.

Because no one else would. I know how it feels to live with that uncertainty.

While I had a great fucking coping mechanism and my siblings around me to support me if needed, she has no one.

She is alone and it pisses me the fuck off.

It makes me fucking angry that she’s doing all of this alone.

She’s fucking struggling and despite knowing her for a year, watching her for year even when I didn’t want to, I had no clue about it.

I never fucking knew that the strawberry-haired girl with a shy smile who has a secret crush on me is hiding things.

For some reason, I thought she couldn’t hide anything from me.

And now that I know, I’m going to take care of it.

I’m going to take care of her. I’m going to solve all her problems.

Me and no one else. I wouldn’t let them. Again, not going to analyze this. It is what it is.

And b: Because I have a problem of my own, isn’t it? And she’s going to help me solve it. We can think of it as a job she’ll be working for me in exchange for compensation. Because as much as I want to help her, I also want to set clear boundaries about what this is.

She asked me what I was doing in Bardstown tonight and the answer is I came for her. No, I didn’t know I was going to find her on a fucking date with another guy when I stopped at a red light. But the moment I promised my brother that I’d get my head on straight, I knew how.

For the past six months, I’ve been trying to move on from my twin brother’s girlfriend. I’ve been trying to fight this anger inside of me. I’ve been searching for a distraction when it’s been here all along.

She’s been my biggest distraction since the moment I saw her a year ago.

Her strawberry hair, those freckles on her face.

Her shy smiles, her side glances. Everything about her distracts me to no end, and while I’ve hated the way I can’t stop thinking about her, I’m going to embrace it now.

I’m going to binge on my Little Strawberry and use her to forget the shitshow my life has become.

I’m going to use her to get my game back, to prove everyone wrong, the media, the team, my own fucking brothers who think something is wrong with me and bring the championship trophy home.

Because for some unknown reason, I know she’s the only one who can cure me.