Tight Knit (15 page)

“I owe them. From before.” 

“From before you went to Juvie?” 

He nods as my hands slide down, and I clasp them behind his neck. I’m way less concerned about this than I should be. I should be running, screaming, angry, disappointed, anything but what I actually feel. Relief. I’m happy. Happy that he’s talking about it. Glad that he felt he could tell me. Even if it did take me calling him a coward to pry it out of him.

 His body is tense as it presses against me. I rub his arms trying to make him relax. He doesn’t. 

“Yeah.” He’s staring blankly over my head. 

“Isn’t that why you went to Juvie? For drugs?” 

Lachlan smiles the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. It tears me in half. He tilts his head toward me. 

“I guess.” He’s distant, unfocused, and I can almost see the little reel of memories playing behind his eyes. 

“You guess?” I ask. Shouldn’t he know why he went to Juvie?

“They helped me keep my mom safe. From him. I was stupid. I just wanted someone to care. About me.” His voice is still soft and distant. My body has gone cold.

I don’t have to worry about him anymore-- because he’s dead. 

“Lachlan? You didn’t?”
My voice is shaking. He glances down at me and his eyes widen. 

“Fuck no! No I didn’t kill him. Mom didn’t mean to. She pushed him off me. He was drunk and he fell. He tripped and hit his head. It was an accident.” 

I’m holding my breath. This can’t be real. This doesn’t happen to people. Not people I know. Not people I care about. 

“But surely she wouldn’t go to jail if she was just protecting you?”

“We tried to lie about it. She told me it was the only way. That the law didn’t care about people like us. I guess she was right because we both ended up in jail. She said it was my fault. That I provoked him. My dad, he didn’t care about anything. My mom only cared about him.” 

He focuses on me again. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear this. It sounds so crazy out loud. Probably why I hate talking about it.” 

I pull his face is closer to mine. 

“I want to hear whatever you want to tell me.” Nan had said that to me once, and it made me feel better, like I could trust her. I hope Lachlan feels the same. I want him to trust me. 

Lachlan relaxes into me, pinning me harder against the bridge railing. He presses his face into my hair, and I tilt my head to the side. I feel his warm breath on my neck then his lips. He kisses all the way up to my ear, then along my jawline. I’m glad the railing is behind me because I can’t feel my knees. 

He leans back, and our eyes lock. 

“I should stay away from you, Talia.” 

“I know,” I reply unable to look away from the lips I want on mine. “But I don’t want you to.” 

Lachlan’s hands release the railing and grab me around the waist. He presses his lips to mine and pulls my hips into him. It’s more than I can take and a sound escapes me I’ve never heard before. Blood surges through me, my head, my ears, my heart...other places. 

We move against each other, pressing our lips, tongues and bodies together tightly as if we were trying to become part of one another. After he explores my mouth he moves his lips to my chin then long the other side of my jaw and down my neck. His hands rake the entire length of me until he wraps his arms around my waist and lifts my feet off the ground. My legs go around him instinctively. He sits me on the railing of the bridge and I hold onto him entwining my fingers into his curls. My body vibrates with a lust for him so strong it makes stars pop behind my eyes as he presses harder against me. 

I’ve never felt this way before. My head goes back as I enjoy the small explosions of intensity going off in my entire body. I’m 100% into whatever Lachlan wants right now and by the feel of it he is too. 

He pulls away and sucks in a raspy breath.

“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?” he says against my mouth.

I smile. I have a pretty good idea.

“I need to take you home before I try them right here.”  

~

Lachlan dropped me off at home an hour ago and I’m still wide awake, staring at the ceiling. I’m agitated. Frustrated. Vibrating. My mind plays over our kiss and every time a new wave of tension fills me to the point I feel like I’ll combust. Part of me is glad that his Southern gentleman side came out and insisted we stop. No one wants to know what the other part of me feels.

My head and my heart are still at war about what to do with Lachlan. But I do know my body wants nothing but him. 

I try to kick the tension out by shaking my legs. 

That doesn’t work so I pull the blanket up right over my head and my hands pick up where his left off.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lachlan

Usually my body takes over. If tonight happened with any other girl I would be post sex right now. Probably sleeping, or trying to figure out how to get out of bed without the girl noticing. 

Talia. Talia is so different. I feel something when I kiss her. Not just needing a release, but needing to be her release. I feel it everywhere. I feel passion, not escapism. I feel alive, not empty. That gaping hole where my heart should be feels filled in. Not just with her, but with me. How I feel when I kiss her is more than just her. I want to be better. I believe I can be better. 

So much so, I actually do homework when I get home. How fucking lame is that? I have the hottest kiss of my life and it makes me want to do homework. 

~

I tap my hands on the steering wheel while I wait for Talia outside the hospital. She’s there for her Nan’s treatment, and even though it makes me uncomfortable, I offered to pick her up. We have to go to this thing for the craft show anyways. 

She walks out of the front doors, that big multi-colored bag slung over her shoulder. Probably filled with hats. She’s smiling, which I take as a good sign.

She gets in and leans across Gram’s car to kiss me. I run my hand over her cheek. Her eyes are a little red but she looks okay. 

“You okay?” 

She smiles. “I’ll be okay. It’s just hard. The doctors have decided to keep her in the hospital until she’s done her treatment. She’s throwing up a lot and she lives alone so they just want to make sure she’s okay.” 

“I want to make sure you’re okay. Did you have an attack?”

“Just one.” 

I feel bad for her. She told me all about how her Nan and I are the only ones who can calm her. That the song Gram used to sing to me to make me feel better, does the same for her. I don’t say anything. Not good in these situations. Instead I just try to put all the things I can’t say into a kiss. 

She pulls back and rummages through her bag, pulling out a bluish grey ball. She gives me the yarn and I frown at her. 

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Happy birthday. It’s another hat.” She blushes.

I reach over and hold out my hand. She places hers inside. 

“I kinda like you, Hat Girl.” I wink at her and she tilts her head down, her hair falling in front of her face. Her shy sheltered-ness is back to being cute. I still have that urge to corrupt her though—to get through that innocence. I feel guilty every time. 

~

At the doors to the arena Talia lets go of my hand as she turns to me and frowns. 

“I forgot to tell you,” she says. “The director of the show is Deacon’s grandmother.” 

My heart sinks. I hope Deacon hasn’t said anything to her. 

 Why would he? He’s just as guilty. Even though I know it’s true, guys like him get away with a lot more than guys like me, and I can’t help but feel judged before I even see her. 

“Okay,” I say. 

Talia snorts.

“She’s the world’s most evil grandmother, Lachlan. You’ll see. She’s nothing like Nan, or your Gram.” 

Talia holds the door open but doesn’t go through. I’m just about to ask her what’s up when she turns back to me.

“Speaking of which, you still haven’t told me about Deacon’s involvement in… um, what you do.”

I slide my arm around her waist and distract her by kissing her neck. I feel her weaken in my grip, and I have to admit I really like the effect I have on her. I brush her hair to the side really slowly with just my fingertips. She shivers and I smile while placing a kiss on her hairline just behind her ear. 

“Baby, it’s my birthday. I don’t want to talk about that right now. Well talk about it. I promise.” 

She looks over her shoulder at me. I know I have to tell her. I will. Just not today.

“You’ve been saying that since—”

I capture her mouth with mine and her words are absorbed into the motion of our tongues. 

“I promise. I’ll tell you everything,” I whisper against her lips. “It’s just hard for me. My mouth is great for a lot of things. Talking not being one of them.” 

I kiss her hard again and she spins to face me. She pushes me away playfully.

“Not fair.” She grabs a fistful of my jacket pulling me in for one last quick kiss. “And don’t call me baby.” She smiles and disappears through the door.

I watch her walking away. I should be on a post kiss high with the girl I’m crazy about, but instead I’m filled with dread. I’m not stupid. I know she’s letting me get away with not talking. 

I just wonder for how long.

~

As soon as we enter the conference room, I know exactly what Talia means about Deacon’s grandma. She’s a tall, thick woman with grayish black hair. It’s pulled back into a bun that tightens her face at the eyebrows. The air is thick with her superiority and I instantly don’t like her or her three-piece business suit. Gram wore dusty rose sweaters with birds and glittery snowflakes on them and the ugliest pleated ‘slacks’, as she calls them. That’s what Grams’ should wear. 

“Talia.” Deacon’s grandmother holds her hand out to Talia and shakes it. Her eyes barely skim over me before she’s sitting down at the table. 

So that’s how it’s gunna be? I gesture for Talia to sit in the chair and I lean against the wall behind her. 

“So Talia.” Even the woman’s voice irritates me. I don’t like the way she says Talia’s name.

“I’ve just heard that your hats have passed the jurying process, which means you can sell them at the show. I just want to remind you, however, we have a reputation here and do everything we can to uphold it.” 

I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing so I pretend I’m scratching my chin. Who the hell does this woman think she is?

Talia’s head hangs, her shoulders tense and her back heaves as her breathing speeds up. Deacon’s grandma continues, completely oblivious to her effect on Talia. 

“I’ve also talked to the director of the shelter and he informed me of an incident of inappropriate behavior while volunteering.” 

Talia’s hyperventilating now so I move forward to place a hand on her back, to show her I’m there. She jumps slightly. Super bitch doesn’t even notice. 

“So if you want to—cavort in basements, please do it on someone else’s time.”

Cavort? 

“Do you understand, Talia?” 

Talia isn’t listening. She isn’t focusing, and I know she’s in the midst of an attack. I drop to my knees and spin her to face me. Gripping her face in my hands I start to hum softly. Her eyes dart frantically and short bursts of air come out her nose. I feel Deacon’s Grandma watching me, and I should be embarrassed. But I only see Talia. 

Suddenly her eyes find mine. I’m still humming, and I’ve moved forward so I’m between her legs. Her hands come up to my face as she recognizes me. She lets out one last long breath, which I assume means she is over the worst of it. I stand pulling her up with me and wrapping my arm around her protectively.

“Talia?” Bitch-lady says and I glare down at her. 

“We hear you loud and clear, lady. Don’t worry. I won’t try and fuck her in basements anymore.” 

The look of horror on the woman’s face makes my wholly unnecessary comment worth it. I didn’t need to say it, but she already thinks I’m useless so why not use that to my advantage. I don’t wait for her to reply either. I usher Talia outside. There are tears in her eyes but they don’t spill out. I’ve never met someone who cries as much as Talia. 

I’m proud of her for making it to the car. 

“Why are you letting her bother you?” I’m irritated by how much it matters to Talia how people see her. I wish I knew how to make her see she’s better than people like that. Better than people like me. 

Fresh tears spill from Talia’s eyes.

“It’s not that,” she says. “It’s that I want to do this right. Nan always does it perfect. I’m just screwing everything up.” 

“Seriously?” is all I can muster. I reach into the back seat and grab the box of files that always stays in the car now. I open it up and papers are spilling out. I wave it in front of her face.

“What’s this for?” She wipes tears with a gloved hand. 

“This is your imperfectness.” 

She cocks her head to one side, confused. 

I shake the box.

“This is everything you’ve screwed up.” I start pulling papers out of the box.

“Here’s the registration you didn’t forget to file, and the volunteer logs that are immaculately filled out. The phone tree thing or whatever the fuck it’s called that you drew up, with an actual tree on it.” I’m flinging papers at her and she scrambles to catch them. 

“Here’s the booth plans you didn’t forget to make or the decoration list that you’ve been harassing everyone about, which is annoying by the way.” 

She’s smiling now, her fist is balled up as she chews her knuckles. I can’t help but laugh at her.

“It’s not annoying,” she says and I raise an eyebrow. “Okay fine, It’s annoying.”

“Your Nan is proud of you, Talia. You aren’t her. You are you.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Talia says dryly, and I reach across the car and drag her over the console so she’s sitting sideways on my lap. 

She shrieks as we wrestle until she’s laughing and glaring and threatening to pee on me. I’ve never been this guy.

“Okay okay, truce!” I say and pry her arm from around my neck.