Dammit, I’ll find a way to fix my life. I’ve been telling myself that for years, though, and I still haven’t made it out. On days like this, the dream seems as distant as the fucking stars.
“Ash.” A guy steps out to stand beside me.
Dylan. My least favorite of the Inked Brotherhood. Zane insisted on including him, so I know he also sports a dragon tat on his arm and a dark stain on his past.
I never bothered to find out what it is, since he seems to carry a chip on his shoulder bigger than the state of Wisconsin. We used to be best friends once upon a time, but not anymore.
Not since I kissed Audrey, back in high school, and then did my best to keep away from her.
“Warm night,” he says, his jaw clenched.
I nod and take a fortifying sip from my lukewarm beer. Dylan rarely talks to me, and never alone. This can’t be a good sign. “What’s up?”
“You talk to Audrey?”
I shake my head, not in the mood.
But Dylan obviously is. “She just came back, after all this time. I can hardly believe it.”
I frown. He makes it sound as if... “She moved back here?”
“Yeah. She’s starting school this semester.”
A jab? I wouldn’t put it past Dylan. I never even finished high school.
I wince, both for that and the fact Audrey will be in the same town as me once more. “Good for her.”
“Yes, it is.”
If Dylan’s trying to make a point, I’m totally missing it. I turn my back to him and take a long draught of my beer, trying not to think, not to imagine.
How my life would be if the circumstances were different. How I could be attending college with Audrey, going to parties with her, sharing courses.
Not kissing her, or hugging her, though that’s the best memory I have, the one burning in my brain, the one getting me through the really tough times. Her kiss, her smell, her arms around me. She’s the only girl who can make me hard just by looking at me.
Damn.
I can never have her that way, but that’s okay. I’d settle for being her friend, a person she can look at without flinching, without turning around and leaving.
Even that seems impossible.
Dylan steps closer to me, right into my personal space. He’s a big guy, wider than me in the shoulders, though I’m taller. He’s intense, but he’s always been a quiet, calm kind of person, so when he grabs the front of my T-shirt, I’m so startled I let my bottle fall. It crashes to the floor.
“Stay away from her,” he says. “Do you hear me? Steer as far away from her as you can. You’re not good for her, Ash.”
My T-shirt is still bunched up in his fist and I’m too shocked to speak. I pull away, and the cotton fabric tightens around my damaged back and bruised ribs, making me hiss in pain.
Dammit. I’m safe here. Safe. I repeat the word to myself and try to calm the hell down.
Dylan is staring at me, his eyes fierce. He means what he said. He really believes I’d hurt Audrey.
“I didn’t talk to her,” I manage, my jaw tight. “Take your hands off me, fucker.”
And when he does, it’s all I can do not to punch him. I was caught by surprise, but I’m stronger than him. Trained in ways he can’t even
begin to guess. I’ve been fighting all my life.
Violent, my school record says. Angry. A kid with issues.