Page 14 of Devil’s Kiss (Sunset Cove #2)

One Week Later

D EREK SWUNG HIS arm around hard and fast, and when his fist connected with the red leather of the punching bag, a bead of sweat fell from the end of his hair to land on his nose.

Fuck this feels good , he thought as his muscles tensed and he bounced on his toes, sparring with his inanimate opponent. It was early Friday morning before class, and he’d wanted to get out of the dive motel room he was staying in before all the other occupants surfaced.

He was wound up real good, and he could sense it in the way his skin felt tightly stretched across his bones. Damn, he’d needed some kind of outlet, and this place was perfect.

It had always been a safe haven for him, and over the last week it had been his go-to. He’d been spending more and more time there, largely in part because he could work out, use their showers, and then hit school.

Just another day in paradise, right? Yeah, hardly.

Just last night at the motel, he’d gone to sleep to the sounds of an argument in the room next door to his.

It had ended with a screaming match, a broken bottle, slamming door, and then the familiar sound of a woman crying.

Much like the soundtrack from his early childhood.

Which was exactly the reason he was down at the gym beating the shit out of the punching bag swaying in front of him.

Life wasn’t cooperating. He was supposed to be living a better life free of his father, not dreading every hour he had to go back to a room that smelled of mildew and likely had some kind of bacteria growing on every surface.

Grrr… He brought his leg around in a wide kick and his foot connected with the bag.

A couple more minutes of this and then he’d have to quit and head to the showers if he wanted to get to the library before class.

He’d missed his first statistics class last week when he’d been trying to track down a place to stay, and they’d been given a take-home exam.

But after working out his money situation and what he could afford to spend on a place to stay, which wasn’t a hell of a lot if he didn’t want to use all his savings, he would try and find some quiet time and knock it out.

Over the last couple of nights he’d wondered, How much can one person possibly take before they fucking lose it? He wasn’t sure, but when he first left his father’s, it had spawned some kind of misguided hope inside him—which listening to last night’s shitstorm had dashed.

There’s no hope here, he thought. Just plain old desperation.

He landed his final punch with more force than necessary, imagining his father’s face pinned to the bag, and as he dropped his arms to his sides, his chest heaved with his exertions.

After his breathing had calmed, he walked over to where his gym bag lay on the ground and grabbed his towel to wipe it over his face.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed himself to keep it together.

Just go and shower, then head to school.

He could decide what to do from there. But as all the decisions and responsibilities started to pile up on top of him, he felt more overwhelmed by the second.

He glanced at the phone sitting inside his bag and picked it up.

There’d been so many times he’d thought about calling Finn this past week, but at the last minute he’d stopped himself.

The guy still thought he slept several houses down from him, and there was no way he was going to tell his buddy that he’d left home.

Finn would make it his mission to coddle him by having him stay at his house, and there was no way he was going to be a burden to the Finleys.

Yeah, not gonna happen. So instead, he’d kept it to himself.

The other person he’d found himself close to calling was Devaney.

When he’d entered his number into the guy’s phone last week, he’d also snuck a look at his contact card and stored the number in his own phone under number one.

At the time he’d figured it was good to have in case something bad happened.

But now the number seemed to mock him every night, just as it was right then.

Staring at his cell, Derek warred with himself for a few seconds, then decided— fuck it.

Right now, he needed someone to talk to, someone to listen.

He didn’t want pity; he just needed to get shit off his chest, and he knew there was no way Devaney would coddle him.

If anything, he’d get pissed he had his number in the first place.

He swiped the towel over his face again and hit number one on his speed dial.

It rang several times before it connected, and when Devaney’s voice came through the line, the words he said took Derek straight out of his bad mood and slid him right into a good one.

JORDAN HAD BARELY stepped off his elevator when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He fished his phone out as he walked over to the kitchen area, and when he saw He-Man on the display, he froze and dropped his canvas grocery bags on the tiled floor.

“No he isn’t…” he said as he stared at the vibrating device in his hand, then he shoved that thought aside because he didn’t want to be thinking about Derek and vibrating things in the same sentence.

Not having any idea what to do, Jordan answered the phone and said the first thing that came to mind: “How did you get my phone number?”

When Derek’s chuckle rumbled through the phone, Jordan found himself grinning despite himself.

“Do you always answer the phone in such a bad mood?”

“I am not in a bad mood,” he said, instantly defensive. Then he realized that he did actually sound pissed off.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, how nice. Except I wasn’t trying to, and you still haven’t answered my question. How did you get my phone number, Derek?”

“Last week at the gym.”

Jordan was momentarily stunned, and that was when he noticed milk was spilling onto the floor. “Fuck.”

He crouched down and rifled through the bags until he found the carton of almond milk, then Derek said, “Look, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have?—”

“Hang on a second.”

“Sure.”

Jordan put the phone on the counter and then picked up the bag and placed it in the sink. He quickly cleaned up the milk and then went back to pick up the phone.

Deciding the rest of the groceries could wait, he took a seat on his couch in the living room and brought the phone back to his ear, curious even as he knew he shouldn’t be. “All right, I’m back.”

“Everything okay?” Derek asked.

Jordan gave an airy laugh before telling him, “Oh yes. There’s no use crying over spilled milk, dahling .”

There was a pause and then, “Huh?”

Letting out a put-upon sigh, Jordan was saddened no one was around to witness the brilliance of his joke. “Oh, nothing. Now, back to this little business of you stealing my phone number. That’s quite the offense, you know. I think they label it under the title ‘stalking.’”

Derek coughed, then asked, “You think I’m stalking you?”

“Are you?”

“Hell no.”

Jordan pursed his lips as he thought about that passionate reply, then asked, “Why? Am I not stalkable?”

Derek sputtered a little, and when he said, “You’re kind of crazy, aren’t you,” Jordan was quick to point out, “Yet you’re the one who went through my phone, stole my number, and called. Don’t be pointing fingers.”

“Fair enough.”

“I think so.” Jordan paused and waited to see if Derek would say anything else, and just when he thought he would have to flat-out ask what he wanted, Derek said softly, “Thank you for picking up.”

Jordan didn’t understand what was going on, but Derek having called at all had thrown him so far off course that he needed the guy to spell it out for him. “You’re welcome. But I haven’t done anything.”

“You answered,” Derek said, and Jordan instantly sobered when Derek’s voice cracked. “That’s everything to someone with nothing.”

Jordan froze at the sincerity behind those words, and then curled his legs under himself on the couch.

By some lucky chance he had Fridays off this semester, and after a quick look at the clock he realized if Derek had class that morning, then he was likely running late.

It seemed he really was in need of someone to listen to him.

“Well, I’m here, and I answered. So…do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Derek’s laugh was devoid of humor this time around. “Umm, how long you got?”

Jordan frowned. “It’s that bad?”

“It’s pretty fucking close to being that bad.”

“Okay, well, we could always meet up? Coffee?” he offered, even though his brain was saying back away .

“Can’t. I’ve got to go to the library and then class.”

“What about after?” Jordan asked, paying no heed to his conscience, which was screaming, Stop now before this gets out of hand.

“I need to go back to the library after classes today, too. I missed a statistics paper last week because of…something.”

“Well,” Jordan said, “I can always meet you at the library. Just tell me what time.”

“Umm, how about… Fuck ,” Derek said, and if Jordan didn’t know better, he would think that he was nervous. “It’ll be tonight, is that okay?”

“That’s fine. I’m sure it won’t be too far past my bedtime.” Jordan’s tongue-in-cheek comment earned him a genuine chuckle from Derek.

“Right. And what time’s that?”

Choosing to ignore the question, Jordan asked instead, “What time should I meet you at the library?”

“How about six?”

“Okay, six it is.”

“Sounds good,” Derek agreed, and then smoothly switched gears to ask again, “So, what time’s your bedtime?”

Jordan laughed. “Is this a distraction technique?”

“Asking you about when you get in bed?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe. Will you answer me if I say yes?”

“ No .”

“Well, damn…”

As Derek’s voice tapered off and all that remained was silence, the reason for his deflection remained a mystery even as it lay heavy between them.

“Derek?” Jordan finally said, not wanting to lose sight of the reason Derek had sought him out in the first place.

“Yeah?”