Transcend Read online

“You have never seduced me in my garage … in the daylight. We’re leaving for a week where I’ll spend every night buried inside of you. Clean clothes wait for you to pack them. Your mom’s expecting you to stop by her house to say goodbye before you go to bed tonight. I’m not questioning you craving my cock.” He smirks. “I’m just calling you out. This isn’t how you go about it.”

  “Maybe it is.” I make a last ditch effort to make my lion purr before dropping the news. Stepping toward him, I reach for his jeans again.

  With a headshake, he steps back, denying me. “You like to tease, but you’re not the girl who does this without me telling you to do it. Control is not your thing. So just cut the fake seduction crap and tell me.”

  I blow out a long breath and step back to lean against the workbench. “Fine. But let me finish before you lose your shit.”

  His posture stiffens.

  Great.

  “Nate didn’t realize we had this trip. I told Rachael, but she must have forgotten to tell him, assuming she would still be here to cover in my absence. His parents leave for vacation Monday and his mom’s not in the best health anyway. And classes start Monday for Nate. He’s the professor, he can’t miss the first week of school. He has no one else.”

  “Swayze—”

  “Let me finish.” I’m breathless. Anticipating his reaction has my heart in an arrhythmia. “I told him earlier this week, I couldn’t stay. He knows it’s not my problem to solve. I’m not going to lose my job if I go with you. But …” Dang! I’m sweating.

  Griffin plants his hands on his hips and leans toward me with a scowl that could freeze the sun. “But what?”

  “He’s desperate. Today he offered me a five grand bonus if I stay home to watch Morgan.” I hold up a flat hand. “I didn’t say yes.”

  “So you said no?”

  “I said I needed to talk to you first.”

  “Well, then let’s talk.”

  I wring my hands together, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “If you want me to go—”

  He barks out a laugh. “I invited you. That means I want you to go. But here we are talking about you not going, so the real question is do you want to go?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then what’s there to talk about?”

  “Did you hear me say he offered me five thousand dollars to stay?”

  Griffin rubs his hand over his face, keeping the other one planted on his hip. “So I need to come in with a better offer for you to go?”

  “No! Jeez …” My fingers thread through my hair, tugging at it while I take a deep breath. “It’s a lot of money. We could buy some new furniture for your—our place. We could take another trip. Go to Hawaii or something.”

  “I can’t believe this has come down to money.” He looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head.

  “It’s not just the money. Nate has no one else. And Morgan’s running a temperature. And—”

  “Just stay.” Griffin turns and continues polishing his bike.

  “If you want me to go—”

  “For the love of God, woman!” He wads up the rag and tosses it aside. “What do you want from me?”

  I flinch. “If I stay, will you be mad?”

  He huffs out a sigh. “I’ll be bummed.”

  “Is that mad?”

  “Don’t do this shit to me, Swayz.”

  “I don’t want to lose you over this.”

  “It’s not an ultimatum. In fact, you’re uninvited. There. Happy? Now you don’t have to make the choice.”

  “I’m uninvited?”

  “Yes.” He stalks toward the house.

  “So if I decide to go, you’re no longer going to take me?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “You can’t be serious.” I catch the screen door before it shuts behind him.

  “Dead serious.” Griffin grabs a bottle of green juice out of the fridge and tosses the cap in the garbage can.

  Watching Morgan gives me a sense of maturity. When I’m with her I feel ten years older. I become who I need to be for her, like I sucked it up and channeled the mature Swayze to give Nate support last night at the pediatrician’s office. But right now, I don’t feel a day over my actual age. The urge to stomp my feet and argue just for the sake of arguing is almost too strong to deny.

  “Speak. Don’t just stand there digging your nails into your palms.” Griffin taunts me with his aloof but arrogant attitude.

  I relax my hands. “I know it’s unfair and immature, but I want you to want me to stay. I wish you knew Nate and Morgan like I do. If you did, I think you would see how much they need me right now. You’re a compassionate guy.”

  “Well, I don’t know them. But I do want you to stay. Lord knows you’d be a fucked-up case of doom and gloom the whole trip worrying about them.”

  “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

  He chugs the rest of the juice and tosses the bottle in the recycling bin. “Well…” he chuckles “…that’s just too damn bad. I’m human. You can’t expect me to act like I’m not just because you think I’m a ‘compassionate guy.’ I’m not going to give you my blessing to stay home.”

  I nod. There’s nothing more to say. He’s right. I’m asking too much. “I should get home.”

  Griffin stares at me with no response.

  “Unless you want me to stay tonight … but if you’re mad, then maybe you don’t want me to stay.”

  “Shit…” he shakes his head “…you sound so fucking insecure right now.”

  The hair on the back of my neck bristles. “Don’t be such a jerk. If I sound insecure it’s because I love you. And loving someone the way I love you is kind of scary, and scared people can sound insecure because nothing makes you feel more vulnerable than putting your heart on the line.”

  He studies me, every piece of my heart stripped raw, bared to him in a bed of insecurities. I’ve never pretended to be something I’m not with Griffin. It’s all of me or nothing at all. We both know it without needing to say the words.

  Griffin steps closer. His hand slides behind my head. “I love you for staying. I hate you for not going. But your heart isn’t on the line. Your heart’s just … mine. And I take care of what’s mine.”

  Chocolate. Wine. Tampons. Chips.

  I could have been anywhere the day I met my grocery store guy. Ten minutes later. Five minutes earlier. A different line. A million other tweaks of fate could have changed the course of my life.

  Fate.

  God.

  A higher power.

  Or maybe just damn good luck.

  After calling Nate to let him know I’m not going, I stay the night with Griffin. If I’m going to move in with him, I can’t run away every time we have an argument.

  “I’m leaving, baby.” He kisses me on the head.

  My eyes fight the need for more sleep. It’s four in the morning.

  “Go back to sleep. I’ll call you when we stop for breakfast in a few hours.”

  “No.” I grab his hand. “I want to see you off.”

  “Everyone’s waiting outside for me.”

  “I’m up.” My head feels like a bowling ball atop my shoulders as I stand.

  Griffin grabs one of his sweatshirts and shoves it over my head, leaving the hoodie covering my matted hair. My arms swim in the long sleeves, but it covers my panties enough to keep his friends from seeing more than they should.

  “I’m sure your neighbors love the four a.m. rumble of six Harley engines revving up.”

  Griffin chuckles. “I’m sure.” He takes my hand as we step outside.

  “Swayze …” One of the guys whistles.

  I give him the middle finger and a small smile.

  “Feisty.” He winks and blows me a kiss.

  “Shut it, Frank.” Griffin glares at his long-haired friend with a creepy smirk.

  “Brave girl.” Meg, his boss’s new girlfriend, shakes her head from the back of Jett’s bike. “No way in hell I’d let
Jett go without me. Too many skanks ready to jump anything that moves. And your boy Griffin will draw a lot of attention. Lots of willing bodies ready to keep him warm at night. Lots of booze. Lots of—”

  “Meg, no disrespect, but shut the fuck up.” Griffin slides on his gloves and pulls me into his chest. “Stop, Swayz.”

  I think I might vomit. This is a bad idea. I should go too. “I lied.” I stare at his chest because I can’t keep my composure looking into his eyes. “If you cheat on me, I won’t cut your dick off. I’ll hate you forever. I don’t want to hate you forever.”

  He tips my chin up.

  Don’t cry.

  “I’m not cheating on you.”

  “But you’re mad that I’m not going. And there will be lots of alcohol. And women with big boobs, and they’re going to want you. Look at you … of course they’re going to do everything they can do to get into your—”

  He silences me with a deep kiss, framing my face with his hands, pulling me to him so that I have to stand on my tippy toes, bracing myself with his arms. God … if he kisses another woman like he’s kissing me, I’ll die. My heart will self-combust into nothing but ash.

  His buddies whistle and hoot like the idiots they are.

  “I can’t breathe,” I whisper past the lump in my throat. It’s not just the women. It’s the long trip on a motorcycle. Nate was right. Griffin is at the mercy of every other vehicle on the road. Stupid people texting, driving under the influence, sleep-deprived truckers, and rain-slick roads.

  “I’ll call you every night as long as I have a signal.”

  I nod slowly, blinking away my fears.

  “And if I don’t call, it means I don’t have a good connection. That’s all it means. Nothing more. Okay?”

  “I love you.” My voice dies on the last syllable.

  “Love you too.” He gives me one last kiss and mounts his bike.

  Without me.

  I think of Morgan and Nate, but it doesn’t help. There’s too much fear strangling my heart. Maybe later my altruism will ease my worry, but right now, I hurt all over.

  Engines rumble. Lights beam. My world rolls onto the street, shifts gears, and takes off with a final wave.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Griffin calls me three times. It’s a long day of riding. They get caught in rain an hour before stopping for dinner. I still question if I made the right decision, but I’m not sorry I missed the downpour.

  Morgan’s fever broke late this morning. She’s still not quite her jovial self, but at least she’s eating. Nate should be home soon with dinner. I keep glancing at my overnight bag on the floor. He leaves for his conference early in the morning, so I’m spending the next two nights here. It’s going to feel weird.

  I pull the stolen photo out of my pocket. It’s an odd need I have to carry it around with me. I can’t stop staring at him. It’s the Nate I didn’t know then and I don’t know now. There’s this line where it all comes to a stop. Years of blank space haunt me. Hell … everything about this haunts me.

  The door chimes when he opens it. I took him up on his offer to use the chime because I don’t like people sneaking up on me. It might be because I’m snooping around, but it’s also this stolen photo. I shove it back into my pocket.

  “Hi.” He sets a pizza box on the counter and a paper grocery bag.

  “Hey.” I slide my hand in my pocket to make sure I didn’t bend the photo in my rush to hide it.

  “Swing time.” He smiles at Morgan in her swing.

  “Yes. She just ate.”

  “I picked up some groceries so you have food to eat while I’m gone. I’ll leave cash as well in case you decide to order something to be delivered.”

  “Thanks. But you don’t need to leave cash. If I weren’t here, I’d still have to buy food to eat.”

  He washes his hands, giving me a boyish grin. “True. But you’re doing me a huge favor. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “It’s fine.” I shrug.

  Nate’s smile fades. “Are you having second thoughts about staying?”

  Easing onto the barstool, I flip open the pizza box. It’s plain cheese. “Griffin’s boss’s girlfriend made this comment …” I sigh, still seeing the you-stupid-girl look on her face.

  Nate hands me a plate.

  I slide a piece of pizza onto it. “She thinks I’m crazy for letting him go without me. Apparently there are lots of girls there. Drinking. Crazy stuff that I don’t like to think about.”

  “You don’t trust him?” He takes a bite as he sits next to me.

  “Trust.” I laugh. “It’s always about trust. When I talked to him about staying here, he admitted he was mad. Then he proceeded to tell me that it wasn’t fair to expect him to not be mad, after all, he’s human.”

  “That’s fair.”

  Shifting my body toward him, I roll my eyes. “It is fair. He is human. That’s what makes this trust thing so hard. I’m sure, when I’m in his arms, he can’t imagine cheating on me. But what if he has a few drinks and thinks about me not being there. Resentment builds, judgment blurs, and some woman wearing nothing but star pasties hops on his lap. What’s he supposed to do? After all … he’s only human.”

  Nate chews his pizza, but the contemplative draw of his brow says he’s chewing on the words I just said. This isn’t helping.

  “You think I’m right, don’t you?”

  Wiping his mouth, he shakes his head. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you’re thinking it.”

  “Well, there you go, trying and failing to read my mind.”

  I level him with a glare.

  “Fine.” He takes another bite and chews it for a few seconds. “I was thinking that I don’t know your boyfriend well enough to make any sort of judgment. However, based on what I know about you, I find it hard to believe any man would cheat on you. But …”

  “But?”

  He shrugs. “We are human. Claiming to be infallible is risky. A professor I had in college told her students that certainty leads to nowhere except one’s demise. Sparingly use the words promise, guarantee, always, and never.” Nate chuckles. “That philosophy makes the writing of wedding vows a little tricky. ‘I vow to try to be faithful. I shall do my best to love you in sickness and health for as long as I can.’”

  I grin, but I’m not sure why. “You suck at easing my mind.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Are you really?”

  He covers his mouth with his napkin and nods. “I promise.” The napkin doesn’t hide his smirk.

  “You’re terrible.” I punch him on the arm.

  His body shakes with laughter.

  “You owe me. Take my mind off how human my boyfriend is. Tell me a story … more Daisy.”

  “More Daisy, huh?” Nate leans back. A soft smile steals his mouth as his gaze meets mine. “I can do that.”

  *

  Nathaniel Hunt Age 15

  “What do you think?” I puffed out my chest, chin up.

  Daisy circled the Camaro in the driveway, eyes shifting between me and the car my uncle left me when he died. I had three weeks until I turned sixteen.

  “Well … it’s free.” Her lower lip curled around her top lip, a goofy look that she gave me when she tried to be honest without telling the whole truth.

  “It could use a little work.” I shrugged.

  “A little.” She circled it a second time, arms crossed over her chest.

  “I’ll take you for a ride.”

  “You don’t have your license yet.”

  “Just around the block. My dad won’t be home for hours.” I tugged open the passenger’s side door.

  She flinched, sticking her fingers in her ears. “Might need to spray something on the hinges.”

  “Stop being such a prissy cat. Get in.”

  “A prissy cat?” She laughed. “I’m not being prissy. But I think I should call home first and ask my mom when I had my last tetanus shot.”

  “It�
��s just a little rust.”

  She eased into the bucket seat. “I think you don’t know the meaning of ‘little.’”

  I shut the door and hopped in behind the wheel—a wheel with peeling black tape all over it, but nevertheless, my wheel.

  “It smells like a forest fire in here.” Her nose wrinkled.

  I ignored her complaining. I had a car. That’s all that mattered. My uncle was a chain-smoker and there were a half dozen pine-scented air fresheners hanging from the rearview mirror, but she didn’t need to make a big deal of it.

  We drove around the block and pulled back into the driveway. “She’s not a bad ride.” I stretched my arm out behind Daisy’s headrest.

  “You’re crazy.” She shook her head, but no amount of prissiness could hide her grin.

  “Do you want to make out in the back seat before my dad gets home?”

  “No.”

  “No? Really? Hmm … so unlike you.” My fingers drummed on the steering wheel.

  “Yes, so unlike me. I’m always wanting to make out in the back of junkyard cars.”

  “Shh … don’t be offensive to Georgia when you’re in her.”

  She giggled. “Georgia? Please tell me you did not name your car.”

  “My uncle did. He bought her in Georgia and drove her to Wisconsin with his first wife, Savannah.”

  “No.” Daisy shook her head a half dozen times. “I’m not buying that story. Your uncle did not buy this car in Georgia and his first wife was not named Savannah. You’re making this up as you go. It’s a terrible story. You are a terrible storyteller.”

  “Swear to God.”

  “Your dad would not approve of you swearing to God. And when he gets home, I’m going to ask him about Savannah, Georgia.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Whatever.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared ahead at our one-car detached garaged. “Last one in the back seat has to be on bottom.”

  It took me two seconds to process what she meant, by the time I did, she had already shimmied her way between the front seats. I took the bottom as we made out for the next fifteen minutes, exploring each other and nudging new boundaries.

  After we righted our disheveled clothes and climbed out of a backseat that was not made for making out, we grabbed sodas and sat on the back porch in old blue lawn chairs.