Slide(Boosted Hearts Book 3)(63)
A bookshelf stood in the corner and he recognized it as Lucy’s, full of books, and by the looks, most of them poetry. She’d obviously left them there when she’d gone to college. He slid one out and stared blindly down at it.
The last time he’d been in this room…
Yeah, Lucy had been crying.
He’d come over for a barbecue. Their mom had been at work, so Joe had invited a few girls around. Lucy was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but had come home unexpectedly. She’d caught him on the couch with one of them.
Lucy had only been sixteen. Sweet and young and so damn beautiful. The look on her face when she’d seen them. He’d already known then that she had a crush on him. She’d spun away and flown up the stairs. He’d followed her. The only thing on his mind had been that she was upset, she was his best friends’ little sister and he’d somehow upset her.
He’d knocked on her door.
“Go away!”
“Luce?” He pushed the door open. “You okay?”
She furiously wiped at her tears. “I’m fine.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I had a fight with Alice.”
He didn’t know what to do or say. She was crying, and every time she blinked, more tears replaced the ones she wiped away. He walked over to her and dragged her off her bed, pulling her into a hug.
She stiffened then shoved at him. “I’m fine. Go back to your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” He didn’t know why he had the urge to explain himself to her.
Lucy snorted. “Figures.”
He gripped her biceps and looked down at her. Jesus, she was stunning. God, he shouldn’t be thinking about her like that. He had to curb this, stop this crush she had on him. Now. “I don’t want a girlfriend. I’m twenty-five. Why would I tie myself down with one woman?”
She blinked up at him, and sucked in a shaky breath. “Will you…will you ever want one? A girlfriend, I mean?”
Fuck. He shook his head. “Relationships aren’t for me, Luce. I don’t want that, and that will never change.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Understand what I’m saying?”
Her face flushed red.
“Luce—”
“Maybe I don’t want that either. Maybe I want to go out with loads of guys and—”
“Like hell,” he said.
“Why?” She scowled up at him. “Why can’t a girl sleep with whoever she wants and not be labeled a slut? Or a whore? It’s a double standard.”
“I agree, but that’s not you.” The idea made him crazy, made his damn blood boil.
“How the hell would you know?”
“I know you.”
“You think you do, but you don’t.” Anger flashed through her eyes. “I’m not even a virgin anymore,” she blurted.
He stilled, then something bigger than he knew what to do with expanded inside him, pushing him to almost breaking point. “Who?” he gritted out. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
“That’s none of your business.” She tried to pull away, but he couldn’t make himself let her go. “Why the hell do you care?”
“Jesus Christ, Lucy. You’re too damn young.”
“Kate Peters just started dating a guy who’s twenty-four. She’s seventeen.”
“Kate Peters’ boyfriend should be locked up.”
“I’m not a damn child!”
“Yes. You are.”
She froze in his arms, the flush on her cheeks darkening. “I want you to leave…”
“What are you doing up here?”
Lucy’s voice behind him yanked him from the memory, and his eyelids slid shut briefly before he turned to face her. She stood at the door, eyes glassy from crying like they’d been back then, but this time it had nothing to do with him.
“I just needed a minute.” He shrugged. “There’re a lot of people down there.”
She searched his gaze. “Not that many.”
He glanced down at the book in his hands again then back at her, trying to work out what to say.
She motioned to the book, slender throat working. “Christina Rossetti’s one of my favorite poets.”
An image of her by the lake, looking up to the sky as she recited one of her other favorite poets, rushed through his mind and pain lanced through him. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.
Lucy was quiet for a few minutes. “I have.”
“I guess I don’t blame you.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “At the bar, the other night—”
The toilet down the hall flushed, and the door opened and closed, followed by the sound of retreating steps.