More Than Her (34 page)

"Birth dad
—
yes."

She let out a breath with whoosh. "How did you
—
I mean, how long have you
—
does she
—
have you spoken
—
is she okay?"

Jakes eyes narrowed as his head whipped to face her. "It doesn't matter if she's okay, Kayla."

Micky held his hand that rested on the table, I saw her squeeze it. "Jake..." she cautioned him.

What the hell?

"Have you?" she continued, facing me. "Seen her, I mean."

I shook my head, but my gaze was fixed on Jake. He had his fist balled and eyes shut tight. His jaw clenched shut from the effort of holding his breath.

Amanda broke the tension, "Have you seen her since...what? Prom, right?" she asked Micky.

Micky's eyes drifted shut; a silent sob took over her body. She sniffed once, nodding, but not speaking.

"Baby," Jake soothed, "you need to tell him."

So she did.

She told us all about seeing her at the cemetery on the anniversary of her families death. She told us about the baby she was carrying and the way she looked. And then she told us about what went down the night her family was killed. She cried the entire time. Her body molded to Jakes side as he stared into the distance, not moving, not speaking. It seemed as though she let out years worth of pent up anger, hurt, and sadness. But most of all, it felt like she was relieved. Relieved to get it out and share it with someone.

And then I understood it. I understood why Jake had acted like he did when Micky asked if she was okay. Because he was right. It didn't matter. It didn't matter to him. But for Micky
—
it did. And for me, too. I don't know why, but it did.

"I get that what she did was wrong," Micky stated.

I hadn't said a word. Amanda held on to my arm tightly, her own tears soaking through my shirt.

"But I've had almost a year to deal with it, and to think about it
—
and I don't know," she shrugged, "I can't see her as a murderer. At the end of the day
—
even if you take away the James factor
—
there was a reason we were best friends for so long." Her voice was strained from the knot in her throat.

"Fuck that," Jake sneered. "How can you be so Goddamn forgiving, Kayla? She helped
murder
your family."

"Jake!" It was my turn to warn him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Look, I know you guys were friends," he looked at me, "and I know that she's your sister or whatever the fuck
—
but no. Just no." His eyes darted from me to Micky. "She has to be out of your life. She has to be done. The fact that she didn't mean for what happen to happen doesn't change the fact that she knew. She fucking knew who it was and she didn't say shit. She didn't turn him in. She didn't do anything."

Micky's voice rose. "She left the state and ended up pregnant by some guy who isn't around
—
"

"And that's not your fucking problem, Kayla. And you sure as shit aren't going to make it one!" His accent got thicker. He was pissed.

Amanda and I sat in silence as we watched them argue. It seemed like this was the first time either of them had discussed it.

"Jake. She didn't mean to." She was all out crying now.

"I don't fucking care, Kayla." He stood from his chair, causing her to leave his arms. "She knew he was out there. What happened if he did it again? What if he'd done it to one of our houses? What if it was Lucy's and all her brothers were home. What if he'd done it to mine?" Then he walked away and into their room, slamming the door behind him.

"I'm sorry," Micky managed to get out. She stood up and started for their room.

***

"So," Amanda said as we got into the car. She didn't make a move to turn it over. "That just happened."

"Yeah," is all I could get out.

I understood where they were both coming from; I really did, which made the whole situation even more confusing.

"It's your decision," she said quietly, pulling me from thoughts.

"What?" I faced her.

"It's your decision. It's your sister. It's your relationship. I get that what happened was fucked up, and I know that confused look on your face
—
I've seen it plenty of times. But whatever you decide
—
if you want to meet her
—
or if you don't
—
I'll support you no matter what."

Perfect.

She's fucking perfect.

I leaned across and kissed her slowly, softly, almost sickeningly sweet. "Thank you, pretty girl."

She smiled against my lips. "You're my person, Logan. It's what we do, right?"

Logan

"The door," she said, her words muffled by my chest. She kicked my legs. We were in bed. The sun hadn't even come up yet.

I kicked her back.

"The door," she repeated, kicking me harder.

"Uhh," I moaned.

Then Ethan bellowed, "One of you asshole's get the fucking door."

"Uhh," I moaned.

"The door," she said again, kicking me harder again.

"Uhh." I kicked her back.

"Assholes, get the fucking door," Ethan yelled.

"Uhh."

And then my phone rang.

"Uhh," I answered.

"Dude." It was Jake. "Answer your fucking door."

"Uhh."

I opened the door to him standing there, shirt off, tucked into his sweatpants, sweating and smelling like ass. He'd been running.

"Shower," he panted. It was way too early for me to give a fuck so I opened the door, got some sweats for him to change into and showed him the bathroom.

I threw myself on the bed and tried to wake Amanda. "Babe," I whispered, flicking her ear.

She flinched.

"Babe." I did it again.

"Get off me, asshole." She buried her head deeper into the pillow.

I sighed, laying on my back and putting my arms behind my head. "Jake's here," I informed.

"So?"

And just to be an asshole, I thought I'd test her. "Yeah, he was out for a run. He's in the shower right now."

"And?" She still hadn't lifted her head.

"He was all shirtless and sweaty," I mocked in a girly tone.

She sat up then.

"What's your point?" she asked through a yawn, her eyes only half open, her hair smeared on one side. She reached blindly around the nightstand for her glasses.

"So." I grabbed her waist and positioned her to sit on my stomach with her legs on either side. My hand went under her top
—
my high school baseball jersey
—
and splayed open on her flat stomach. "Girls go crazy for a shirtless Jake Andrews."

Her nose scrunched, causing her glasses to lift slightly. "Really?" she sounded genuinely confused. "Huh
—
I just don't see it."

I rolled my eyes.

"Besides," she said, shifting her body to lay flush with mine. I moved my hand to her back. "I kind of have a thing for green eyed assholes and dimples." She kissed my neck.

I dragged my hands lower down her back until I could squeeze her bare ass.

"Mm," she hummed, her mouth opening wider on my neck.

I thrust up between her legs, she pushed down.

"Oh God," she moaned, her mouth moving lower, her tongue exploring further.

I squirmed underneath her. "You know," she said, removing her glasses and throwing them on the bed. She was at my abs now, her finger dragging lightly across the dips. "There's something I've never done before..."

A sound escaped from deep in my throat. I threw my head back against the pillow. "Never?" I croaked out, my eyes shut tight.

"Never," she assured.

Then I felt her hand rub against me through my shorts. I did everything I could to stop from jerking my hips further into it. Then her warm breath was there, as her teeth nibbled gently along the length of me.

My dick throbbed.

"Mm," she moaned again, palming the head.

It wasn't even skin on skin and it was driving me fucking crazy.

I need to hold off.

Think, Logan. Think.

Grandmas.

Grandmas smell like Band-Aids, mothballs and oranges.

Good.

Then her hand reached through the leg of my boxers and cupped my balls.

"Fucking shit," I grunted, jerking my hips back in surprise.

I glanced down at her
—
she was watching my face. My eyes rolled to the back of my head. I bit my lip as I felt her hand wrap around me.

The throbbing got worse.

Then her other hand reached in through the band of my shorts, her palm rubbing against my head, so fucking lightly.

Grandmas.

Mothballs.

Band-Aids.

Oranges.

"Fuck," I grunted when I felt her fingers curl around my shorts, pulling them down. My dick twitched. She must have seen it. Her eyes got huge before a smile pulled on her lips. Then she dipped her head
—

"Dude, I need
—
Whoa! Fuck! Shit!" Jake stammered from the doorway.

Amanda squealed and rolled off the bed, falling to the floor with a thud. She hid her body from Jake's view.

"Shit!" Jake repeated, his eyes huge, but his head faced the ceiling. "Dude, I
—
I mean
—
I didn't know
—
uhh
—
the room, shit..."

Fuck.

I lazily put my dick back in my shorts.

"Uh." Jake again. "I'll be in the kitchen...you guys...finish? Shit." Then he closed the door behind him.

Amanda came to a stand. "What the hell?" she whispered, her eyes bugging out. She slapped me on the chest.

I laughed.

***

"I'm sorry." Jake ran his hands through his hair.

I shook my head. "It's fine. What's up?"

Amanda walked in, her face red. "Hi Jake," she greeted, her eyes trained on the floor.

"Hey," he responded, refusing to look at her.

Awkward.

"Kayla made me come. Not come
—
like you guys just
—
not
—
I mean,
here
. She made me come
here.
"

"Oh God," Amanda groaned. Her hands covered her face.

I laughed and jumped to sit on the counter. I pulled her in between my legs; she plastered her face to my chest.

"Is she okay?" I asked Jake.

He nodded, leaning back against the counter opposite me. "Yeah. I um...she made me come here to apologize."

My eyebrows drew in. "What do you mean?"

"I was an asshole last night
—
about the whole Megan thing. We've never spoken about it, not like that. And I guess we just had different takes on it. Kayla said I was being insensitive to you
—
and your situation
—
so she made me come here and apologize. But I'm not gonna lie, you're my best friend, she's my girl...Megan
—
she's nobody to me. And I want it to stay that way."

I sighed. "I get that, dude. I honestly don't know what I want yet."

"She wants to be there," he rushed out.

"What?"

"If you decide to meet her or whatever. Kayla
—
she wants to be there."

***

We tried to get back to sleep after Jake left but we couldn't. We both skipped classes and opted to lie in bed and waste the morning away. I tried to get her to finish what she started, but she denied me, saying it was her form of punishment for not knowing that she gets horny when she's delusion-ally tired. I tried to convince her that I told her Jake was here, but she didn't believe me. She let me watch her while she showered
—
I guess that's something.

"Did you know her? Megan?" I asked, running my hands along her legs.

We lay opposite each other in bed. I convinced her on a no shirt
—
no pants rule.

She looked up from her e-reader, and shrugged. "Kind of," she said, but avoided my eyes.