The Lovely Reckless (24 page)

“Is the guy you work for threatening Deacon, too?”

He shakes his head. “No. Deacon wanted in.”

“Then he belongs in jail. Are you willing to throw away your future for him?”

Marco moves toward me again, but I turn my back on him. I sense it the moment he's behind me, even before he touches me. My body is so aware of him now. He brushes the hair over my shoulder, his fingers grazing my neck.

“Don't.”

He steps closer, and his breath tickles the back of my neck. Strong arms reach over my shoulders and hug my back against his bare skin. “I can't help it,” he murmurs against my neck. “Every time I see you, I want to hold you.”

“You won't be able to if you're in jail.”

Marco kisses my neck and slides around so he's in front of me. “Look at me.”

If I do, I'll break.

I keep my lashes down. “I can't.”

He cups my face in his hands and gently raises my chin. “Before you kissed me at the party, I imagined what it would feel like. How it would feel to hold you. But I never thought…” He releases me and presses the heels of his hands against his forehead. I hate the confusion and pain in Marco's eyes. I hate that I'm causing any part of it.

My fingers find his again, tethering us. “You never thought what?”

“I'd get the chance.”

I'm not brave enough to tell him how often he crossed my mind. “I doubt you have trouble finding girls who want to kiss you.” I nudge him with my shoulder, trying to sound playful instead of jealous.

“You're the only girl I want to kiss.” Marco raises our intertwined hands and holds them against his heart. Our hands fit together perfectly. Not all hands fit. Or all people. “I plan on doing a lot more of it if you'll let me. But I can't turn on Deacon. We're brothers, whether we share the same blood or not. He saved Sofia's life, and he's had my back whenever I needed him.”

The jagged scars on Deacon's neck flash through my mind—proof of the sacrifice he made. Even if I'm not crazy about Deacon, he must have some good inside.

“My dad and his partner are really good at their jobs. It's only a matter of time before someone screws up or they find the evidence they need to make an arrest.” And it scares me to death.

Marco rubs his nose against mine. Mom used to do the same thing, back when she was still my mom and not King Richard's robotic queen.

“I don't have the right to ask, but if you stick with me, all this will be over soon. Except the part about your dad hating my guts.” He nuzzles my neck, sending waves of heat through every inch of my body. “If you don't want to decide now, I'll give you space.” His fingers tighten around mine, his heart beating fast beneath our joined hands.

With my free hand I trace a path from the hollow of his neck and down his chest until I reach his waistband. I freeze, my hand on his stomach. “I don't want space. I want…”

If you say it out loud, it's real.

“What?” The anticipation in his voice makes me bold.

“I want you.” I untangle my fingers from his and loop my arms around his neck, my damp T-shirt pressing against his warm skin.

Marco stares at me, his eyes searching mine. “There's something I need to tell you. But I'm scared it will come out wrong.”

I swallow hard. I'm afraid to ask, but I'm just as afraid
not
to ask. “Tell me anyway.”

He pulls me closer. “I love you, Frankie. And it's the always kind.”

He loves me.

I forget to breathe. Or maybe I can't.

I've never felt like this about anyone. I love Marco's strength and his kindness, the way he protects the people he loves and makes me feel safe.

I love him
.

But I didn't think he could feel that way about me.

Marco's lips brush across mine slowly … so slow that it creates sensations I've never experienced before. I bite my bottom lip, fighting the urge to press my mouth against his. Whatever he's doing—the slow and deliberate contact—creates a sweet push and pull inside me.

When the tension feels unbearable, I kiss my way up his neck, and he moans. “You're killing me.” His hands slide under my shirt, pulling it up as they reach the edge of my lacy bra. I sigh, and it unleashes the hunger between us like a dam breaking.

Marco picks me up, and I hook my legs around him. He carries me to the sofa like I weigh nothing. When my back hits the soft cushions, I tug on his bottom lip because it drives him crazy. He lowers himself over me, somehow managing to press his body against mine without crushing me with his weight.

Marco pushes my shirt up again, and I love the way his skin feels against my stomach. “Can I take this off? I want to look at you.”

I try to slip my arms out, but the damp cotton clings to me. Marco does a sweeping move with his hand, gathering the hem and slipping it up my arms and over my head.

He sits back on his heels and stares at me. The room doesn't seem half as dark now that a gorgeous guy is checking me out in my bra. Thank you, pushy old lady in the lingerie department, for talking me into buying a decent-looking bra—one that makes what little I have appear bigger.

I cross my arms over my chest, which is one small piece of lace away from being completely exposed.

“Don't do that.” He runs his index finger down the center of my neck, gently nudging my arms away from my chest as he continues the path to my belly button. “You're beautiful.”

“Stop.” I try to pull him down. When he won't budge, I prop myself up on my elbows.

He stares into my eyes with an intensity that makes me feel naked. “I want to remember this.”

Tiny flashes of light catch in my peripheral vision.

A cell phone hovering above me.

“Ready?” Noah asks. “I'll take the picture on three. I want to remember this.”

Another flash and the memory disappears in a split second.

“Frankie?” Marco touches my cheek. “What happened?”

“I just want to remember, too.”

 

CHAPTER 29

FRACTURED MEMORIES

Rain pelts my skin like bullets as I stand in front of the pool house and watch Marco leave. He's walking backward, smiling at me, clothes soaked and hair plastered against his skin. I love his smile. And him.

He blows me a kiss just before he's out of sight.

Not knowing when we'll have a chance to be alone again—to kiss, share secrets, and all the other things you do with someone at the beginning of a relationship—leaves me feeling lost. Worrying about whether my dad will arrest the guy I've fallen for makes it even worse.

The odds are against Marco, and us. We agreed to meet in the basement by the Shop classroom before school in the mornings so we can see each other.

I go back to the main house, where Lex puts my clothes in the dryer while I copy the chemistry homework Marco completed into my own handwriting. It's the first thing Dad will ask to see when I get home.

Lex drives, and I stare out the window, listening to the thump of the windshield wipers.

“Did you guys figure things out?” she asks eventually, without taking her eyes off the road.

Did we? I don't even know.

“Some of it. But the situation is so complicated. I'm not sure if we can figure it all out.” I tilt my head to the side and lean against the passenger-side window.

“But he makes you happy?”

I look over at Lex and nod. “Happier than anyone or anything has ever made me. What about Abel?”

“Over the summer, things between us felt
right
. Like magic. And I let myself care … so much more than I ever have before.” Lex takes a deep breath. “He promised not to hurt me. Instead, he's hurting himself. He doesn't understand that it's the same thing.”

“He's lost. I know how that feels, Lex. He just has to find his way back.”

“What if he can't?”

I take her hand. “Then we'll find him ourselves.”

“Are you in love with Marco?”

I don't hesitate. “Yes.”

“Does he know that?” Lex never lets me off easy.

“Does Abel know you're in love with him?”

“I can't afford to take that kind of chance with him. He'll break my heart.” She sounds so sad and scared.

I tuck one of my legs underneath me. “Abel has been in love with you forever, Lex. He would never hurt you.”

“Not intentionally,” she says. “But people hurt each other all the time without meaning to. It doesn't make it any easier when you're the one who gets hurt.”

“You can't hide from pain. I've tried.”

She turns onto the street that leads into Dad's development. “At least it buys me some time.”

Dad's Tahoe is parked out front.

Lex kills the engine, and rain bangs against the roof of the car. She leans over and hugs me. “Just take care of yourself, Frankie. I need my best friend.”

“Me too.”

I pull up the hood of my borrowed sweatshirt. The living room light glows in the apartment, and the drapes in front of the balcony doors slide open. I can't see Dad through the rain, but I sense him watching me. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” Lex says as I jump out and run through the downpour.

By the time I make it to the stairs, I'm drenched. The second my key slides into the lock, Dad opens the door. I slip past him without a word and peel off the wet hoodie that weighs a ton now, along with my sneakers and socks.

“How did chemistry go?” he asks.

“Fine.” That's all he's getting from me.

“Can I see what you worked on?”

He's so predictable.

“Why? Don't you trust me, Dad?” I ask sarcastically.

He holds out his hand and I drop the binder on the table in front of him.

“I'll be in my room. Just leave it on the kitchen table when you're done.”

“Can you take a break from hating me for a few minutes? I'd like to talk.” He gestures at the chair across from him.

I take a seat. If he wants to talk, he can go first. He raps on the table a few times, then runs his hands over the stubble along his jawline. This is the Dad I'm used to—awkward and nervous around the daughter he barely knows.

“This isn't how I wanted things to go between us.” He sighs. “I wasn't happy about the reason you moved in, but I wanted you here. It felt like our chance to get to know each other and make up for lost time.”

“It's called lost time for a reason. You can't get it back once it's gone. You want to get to know the old Frankie, not me.”

“You're wrong. I know death affects people, and I warned your mom that Noah's would change you. But your mother hears what she wants.”

I tried to tell her I wasn't the same person, too. But Mom chalked it up to a temporary case of PTSD.

Dad watches me the way he always does—measuring my responses, noting my body language, judging. “I don't care if you play the piano or go to Stanford. I want you to be yourself—the fearless little girl who drew on my bathroom walls with lipstick and wanted to help me catch bad guys. As you got older, that girl disappeared.”

The red lipstick smudges are still there. “Every kid likes to play cops and robbers. It had nothing to do with being fearless.”

He tries to make eye contact. “I disagree. I think it's the reason you're interested in a kid from the Downs. He takes chances, something you never used to do.”

I'm not with Marco because of some subconscious need to rebel. He hates the risks I take, just as much as my dad would if he knew about them.

“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” I ask. “It's pretty pointless, since I'm not seeing him anymore.”

Dad leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. Not the reaction he was hoping for, I guess. “I'm trying to protect you. Marco probably seems like a nice guy, and maybe he is. But he's also a felon.”

“You don't know that for sure.” I push my chair away from the table and stand. “I'm going to my room.”

“Someday you'll realize I'm doing this because I love you,” Dad calls after me.

I'm raw—my frayed emotions ripped to shreds and tied back together in ugly knots. “Don't use love as an excuse to hurt me. Find something else to call it. If you loved me, you'd never treat me like this.”

“That's not true.” Dad stares at me, looking shell-shocked.

“Lots of things aren't true, but it doesn't stop people from believing them.”

*   *   *

I'm in my bedroom, thinking about Marco when my cell vibrates. I can't stop myself from smiling when I read the text.

miss you angel

I run my fingers over the words, and my chest aches.

me 2

A bubble of tiny dots appears as he writes back.

feels like i'm still holding you. is
that crazy?

i wish

The bubble appears, and I wait for Marco's text. When it doesn't come through after a few minutes, I text again.

you still there?

yeah

My hand shakes as I type the next message. Now that I know how dangerous Marco's life really is, it's easy to imagine dozens of scenarios that would prevent him from responding.

what's wrong?

His response comes more quickly this time.

feels too good to be real. like i'll
wake up tomorrow & you'll be gone

How can I tell him I feel the same way without making it worse?

i won't. promise

till tomorrow

nite

I want to read the words over and over so I take a screenshot and e-mail it to myself before I delete the messages and the photo from my phone. Erasing Marco's messages feels like I'm letting my father chip away at something precious that belongs to me. But Dad is more than just a nosy parent. He's a cop.