TROUBLE, A New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) (24 page)

“I had a very specific path.
 
I spent years on that path. Going to school, studying for hours every day, making all the right friends and wearing the right clothes that said the right things to people.
 
I thought I fell in love with the perfect guy too.
 
And one night the path just … disappeared.
 
Or I got thrown off it.
 
Or I jumped off it.”
 
I sigh in defeat.
 
“I don’t know how I got off the path exactly. I just know I can never get back on it again.”

“Bullshit.”
 
He’s painting bold streaks all over the black now.
 
In certain places the colors blend together into something ugly.

“You don’t know anything about me,” I say, almost wishing it weren’t true.

“Who was that guy? … Randy.
 
Why was he here?
 
Is he your boyfriend?”

I clench my teeth together, not wanting to answer.

“I got his plate number,” Colin says.
 
“I’m going to have Dickerson look him up, I think. Pay him a visit … make sure he understands he’s not welcome back here.”

My hand flies up before I can think to stop it and grabs Colin’s upper arm.
 
“No!
 
Don’t.”
 
I hastily yank my hand back and fold it up with my other one in my lap, squeezing my fingers together.
 
My palms are sweaty. So are my armpits.

He stops painting and turns partway in his stool to face me.
 
“If you don’t want me getting involved, then tell me why I shouldn’t.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I GLANCE UP AT HIM under my lashes. He’s staring at me with his dark unwavering green eyes, and I know I’m being tested.
 
Right now I could tell him to leave me the heck alone and go on with his life without me in it, and he’ll probably be mad or hurt enough to do it.

But God help me, I don’t want him to move on without me.
 
It’s stupid and ridiculous and completely not what I ever thought I’d want for myself, but it’s true; I want Colin to be in my life, even if it’s just as my self-appointed protector.
 
Colin the felon.
 
Colin the fighter.
 
Colin the one they call Trouble.

“You shouldn’t get involved because Randy and his friends are bad people who have a lot of money at their disposal and who aren’t afraid to use it to hurt other people that make them unhappy.”

“What?” Colin laughs.
 
“Are they mafia?”

“Who, Randy?
 
No. Not mafia.”
 
If the mafia hung out at the polo club, maybe.
 
I laugh at the idea. “Just people who think they’re better than everyone else, that’s all.”

“Why’s he showing up here acting like a prick? That his baby?”
 
Colin points to my belly with the end of the paintbrush.

I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel very vulnerable.
 
Wrapping my arms around my big belly, I lean over just a little, my eyes glued to Colin’s.
 
“No.
 
I would never … “
 
I can’t finish.

“Then why’s he here threatening you?”

“He was just here …” I give up with trying to find a lie that will fit.
 
“He was here to warn me off or something, I don’t know.
 
He’s friends with someone I know.
 
Or knew.
 
Or thought I knew.
 
I don’t know.”
 
I finish with a sigh.
 
I’m so confused.
 
I still don’t know how I could have been so wrong about Charlie.
 
I have to be the most naive girl who ever walked on two legs.

Colin reaches over and before I realize what he’s going to do, he places a hand on my belly, right where the baby has decided to stretch.
 
There are smears of paint on his fingers, but I don’t care.

“I can feel her move,” he whispers.
 
“I can see her move, too.”

I nod, strong, strange emotions making it impossible for me to speak.
 
His hand is so big and so warm.
 
All I feel are good things coming from that sensation.
 
He may be vicious and tough, but I would never know that from his touch on my body.

“What was he warning you off of?” Colin asks.

I shake my slowly from head side to side, staring at his hand on me.

“Tell me, Alissa.
 
I can help you.”

I look up at him, tears making my eyesight blurry again.
 
“I don’t want anyone to get involved.
 
You could get hurt.”

He gives me a wry smile.
 
“Please.
 
You know I’m not happy unless I’m looking for a little trouble.”

I slide my hand over in response to the baby moving and my fingers settle in next to his.
 
His skin is so warm and solid.
 
I’d give just about anything to have those arms of his around me.
 
“You should start avoiding trouble, I think, now that you’re a serious artist, painter person.”

He shrugs, all nonchalant.
 
“You want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

I stare up in his eyes, his very serious expression making me question what he means by that statement.
 
“Stop what?
 
Getting into trouble or stop painting?”

“Either.
 
Both.
 
I don’t care.”

A shy smile takes over my face; I can’t help it. He’s acting like I matter in his life.
 
“Don’t be silly.”

He puts his paintbrush in the water can and turns more fully in his seat. Both of his hands are on my belly now and they’re moving around just the slightest bit as he gets a feel for my baby underneath.
 
“I’m not being silly.
 
I’m being serious.
 
Tell me what I can do to help you. How can I make you happy?”

My brain has gone all mushy.
 
I’m wallowing in the coziness of having him so near, touching me, wanting me to be happy.
 
He’s so big.
 
So strong.
 
And he smells like Colin …

Oh, God.
 
What in the heck am I doing?!

Emotions hit me full force. I’m getting way too attached to this man, and it feels like it’s unstoppable, like I have no control over my life or my heart anymore. And the last time that happened, everything crashed down around my ears and was demolished forever.
 
The very idea of going through that again sends me into panic mode. I push his hands away.

“Why?” I say, a little too forcefully.
 
“I don’t understand … why are you asking me this?”

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling and tips his head back for a few seconds.
 
His eyes close and he tilts his head down again.
 
As he shakes his head, he opens his eyes.
 
“Jesus, Alissa, can’t a guy just want to help?
 
Do you want me to tell you that I
like
you?
 
Confess my feelings and emotions or something?”

Humiliation makes me scowl and stand up off my stool.
 
How embarrassing!
 
He thinks I’m some sort of school girl begging for confessions of love!
“Oh, shut up, Colin.”

“Don’t go,” he says, grabbing my arm.

I yank it away.
 
“Stop.”

He stands too and takes both my forearms.
 
“Please don’t go. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

I twist sideways to walk away, breaking his hold on me.
 
“Sure you should have.
 
Why lie?
 
Just say what you really think and we’ll all be better off, trust me.”
 
I walk to the door, anxious to put as much distance between us as I can.
 
I’m going to go run my head under ice-cold water in the bathroom so I can try and forget what just happened.

“I didn’t lie.
 
I’m not.
 
I will!
 
Tell the truth, I mean!”

His shout has my hand freezing on the door handle.
 
I don’t turn to face him, but I don’t leave either.

“Alissa, just … listen … I do like you, okay? Jesus, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

My face burns again, but this time not with humiliation.
 
I can’t believe he’s saying this either. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him holding out a hand in my direction.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “I want to talk to you. It’s important.”

I turn around and rest my back against the door.
 
My hand stays behind me on the handle of the door.
 
I can make my escape quickly if I need to, and the idea of it acts as security for me.
 
I can listen to what he says without fear.

My chin goes up.
 
“Fine.
 
Talk.”

He sits back down on his stool, puts his feet up onto the rungs, and slouches, fiddling with his fingers between his legs.
 
“Things are changing really fast for me.”

I nod, pretending like I understand when I don’t.

“Just a couple months ago I had everything all figured out.”

“I know the feeling,” I say with only a slight trace of bitterness.

“I had work, I had a hobby, I had … girls.” He looks up at me.
 
“Sounds great, right?”

I shrug.
 
I don’t think he really wants an answer to that question.

“But I was angry all the time. Anytime someone looked at me sideways, I wanted to punch their teeth into their skull. I hated the entire world. I was drinking all the time, trying to drown all that anger or something, I don’t know.
 
But it only made it worse.”

My eyes widen at that. I’m not sure that I’ve ever been that angry.

He shakes his head and looks at the floor again.
 
“I miss my mom.
 
I miss my sister.
 
I miss them every single damn day of the week and the month and the year.”
 
His voice has gone rough, and the sorrow in his confession loosens my feet.
 
I walk closer to him, my hand leaving the door and my security at having it there.

He looks up again.
 
“My sister was raped.
 
Did anyone tell you that?”

I shake my head as my heart is gripped by icy terror.
 
It’s like the Devil himself is holding onto it, squeezing it until I feel like I can’t breathe anymore.

“I was supposed to pick her up after work, and I was late.
 
She took a ride home from someone else and he raped her.
 
He beat her ass and left her for dead.”

Colin, the biggest, baddest, toughest guy I’ve ever met is crying.
 
There are no sobs, just tears.
 
His eyes are glowing green.
 
I don’t know what to do.

“It’s not your fault,” I say, my voice barely cracking a whisper.

“Of course it’s my fault,” he says angrily. His eyes show me the tortured soul that lives inside him. “If I’d been there when I was supposed to be, she’d still be here!”

“You don’t know that.”
 
I put my hand out towards him, but he scowls at me, so I let it drop.
 
I feel like I’m standing in front of a very angry tiger who might possibly be in the mood to eat me.

“I know it.
 
Everyone knows it.
 
Leave it at that.”

“You have a pretty high opinion of yourself,” I say, trying to rile him up and throw him off.
 
He’s too stuck on that one track to listen otherwise.

My ploy works.
 
The muscles all over his body are tensing up and flexing.

“What?” he grinds out.

I shrug, keeping up the game, keeping him on edge with words that are meant to seem careless. “You think you have direct control over everyone’s destiny?
 
Like you’re God or something?”

“No.
 
I never said that.”

“Well, you claim that you could have changed the direction of your sister’s life, as if you made the conscious decision to take her out of this world.”

“It wasn’t a conscious decision.
 
It was a choice and the consequence of that choice.
 
That was all on me.”

“Maybe it wasn’t, though,” I say, my voice softening.

“How so?” he asks, clearly not ready to believe anything other than the fact that he is the reason she’s no longer on this earth.

“We all make choices, don’t we?
 
She made a choice to get into someone else’s car that night.
 
You didn’t make that choice for her, did you?”

“Basically I did.”

“No,
basically
you made a choice for
yourself
.
 
She made a choice for
herself
.
 
Her rapist made his choices that had nothing to do with you.
 
Only
she
is responsible for her own choices, as you are for yours, and it was
her
choice that got her … in a car with the wrong person.”
 
My voice hitches at the end of my sentence because I have the strangest sensation that I’m talking to myself and not Colin.
 
“Girls do that all the time, Colin.
 
They just get into a car with the wrong person.”
 
Images flash through my mind.
 
A car.
 
The wrong person.
 
The wrongest person I’ve ever met.

“But if I hadn’t been late …”