Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1) (31 page)

Please. Like he gave two fucks about the condition of my heart.

I deleted that one and chose to ignore the accompanying texts that continued to pop up throughout the night. By this morning I'd had enough and blocked his number entirely. Something I should have done a long time ago.

I'd heard too much from everyone I
didn't
want to talk to, and not one word from the
only
one who mattered.

"Are you going to class today?" She takes a seat on the edge of the bed and runs a hand up and down my arm. "Break starts tomorrow. You should go and at least pick up your final papers."

"Pass," I pull the pillow over my face.

"Cassie." She yanks the pillow away and forces me to look at her. "This is no way to act. Look, you're hurt I get that. But are you just going to let him go back to Colorado without talking to him? I think you're letting him off too easily."

"Oh yeah? So what would you suggest? Maybe I should try offering to be his fuck buddy again," I say sarcastically. "Wait, I already did that."

"Hey, don't knock that suggestion. Look where it got you."

"Hiding in my bed with more questions than answers? Yeah, thanks for that." I roll my eyes and pull the covers over my head like a child.

"Hey, don't blame me. It's not my fault you're afraid to call Scott out on his bullshit," she accuses.

I throw the covers back and abruptly sit up to argue.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I'm just saying, you transferred to GL to get away from a controlling asshole and re-connect with your brother. But he never made time for you and was totally on board with Brantley being your friend. It's not your fault you developed feelings for one another; it was inevitable. Two attractive people in their sexual prime. Hell, your brother's a fucking idiot for not seeing this coming. And who is he to dictate who you, or anyone else for that matter, can date? All this time you've been hiding behind a label when you both should have had the balls to confront his ass and tell him to either accept it or fuck off."

Her words strike a chord deep within me. I've spent my entire life avoiding conflict. As a child I was always the one to conform. I can't count how many times I allowed girls in high school to walk all over me. Looking back, that's probably why Justin had been drawn to me. He knew he could suggest something and I'd go right along with it, even when I may have disagreed.

I'd been the same way with Scott. He was my big brother. I looked up to him. No matter what it was, if he was doing it, I wanted to do it too. If he didn't like something, it usually meant I wouldn't like it either. But not because I'd formulated my own opinion. His approval meant everything to me. Then he moved away to college, and I was left to stand on my own two feet. For the first time in my life I was free to make my own choices, and that was a scary feeling. Justin swooped in and took over my voice, and for a while I willingly handed it over to him. Until I found the strength to take it back. But when it comes to Scott, it seems I'm not there yet.

Pursuing Brantley had been my first real act of defiance against Scott. Maybe it had something to do with my breakup with Justin. But I think the real reason had simply been Brantley's reaction when he'd learned who I was. The look on his face when he spoke about that fucking bro code Scott hung over their heads has been stamped on my brain. His stupid rules make me feel as if he's still trying to make decisions for me, as if I'm a silly teenager who can't possibly know what's good for her.

But I
do
know.

I know Brantley Cage is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Our friendship had been born out of need, yet somehow it still felt organic. We make each other laugh, and we wipe each other's tears. We talk about our fears, and encourage one another to chase our dreams.

Sleeping with him had been a choice.

And one I'll never regret.

But falling in love...

Falling in love had been inevitable.

By seven o'clock, I've grown tired of the silent treatment. Veronica was right. I can't let him fly back to Colorado without giving him a piece of my mind. Due to Christmas break, the buses aren't running, so I have to take an Uber. Earlier, I'd thought about all the places he could possibly be and only one made sense. He has to be at the arena. It's one of his favorite places to go, especially when he has something on his mind.

The building is closed for break, but I had the foresight to ask Davis if he had a key. Just so happens he did, and now I'm using it to let myself in. Davis said Brantley has been staying at the frat house with John, and I know he hates it there. He also informed me when Brantley has a lot on his mind, he tends to hide out in the weight room. So that's where I'm heading now.

The building is dark, and I have to use the flashlight on my phone to read the plaques on the doors. Halfway down the main corridor there's a small hallway on the right. I round the corner and come face-to-face with the door to the weight room. The door is one that only opens on this side of the building with one of those card access readers. Lucky for me, I'd already counted on that and came prepared. I swipe my student ID and open the door.

The room is huge, filled with every piece of equipment imaginable. A bank of treadmills line the entire outer wall, while hundreds of free weights take up space on the opposite interior wall. Large, padded squares dot various sections of the floor, while floor-to-ceiling mirrors decorate the wall behind the free weights. I assume this is so they can make sure they have proper form and don't injure themselves. Like the hallway, the room is mostly dark, with only half the room illuminated.

He's sitting on a bench by the free weights. His back is to me, and he's facing an empty wall. For a moment I think he's just sitting there, but as I inch closer, I spot the large dumbbell in his hand and see he's doing arm curls. He's wearing ear buds, so he doesn't hear me approach, and with every rep of the weight I see the pop in his veins and the bulge of his bicep. He's shirtless, and a sheen of perspiration glistens over the expanse of his muscular back.

Being this close makes my heart race. I know it's only been three days, but suddenly it seems as though it's been a lifetime. Taking a deep breath for strength, I step out of the shadows and finally come into view. He senses movement, which makes him turn his head, and when our eyes meet in the mirror, I choke back a sob.

His face is a complete mess. Both eyes have dark bruises beneath them as a result of the broken nose. The left side of his bottom lip is split, and dried blood fills the large crack that's there. And there's a bruise lining his left jaw. That was from the first blow.

My eyes never leave his as I make my way over to where he's sitting. I circle the bench, and when he doesn't stop me, I kneel in front of him, filling the space between his legs. His breathing is heavy, and it's the only sound I hear as I lift my hand to cup his cheek. The knuckles of his right hand are cracked and dotted with dried blood. With the opposite hand, I gently bring his fingers to my lips. Covering each digit with soft kisses before reaching his thumb. Never taking my eyes off his, I circle the tip of his thumb with my tongue before drawing it all the way into my warm mouth. An audible sigh escapes his damaged lips as the weight he's holding drops to the mat with a thud. Using his free hand, he threads his fingers around the nape of my neck and pulls me up to meet his waiting lips.

I don't care that the last words he spoke were a dismissal.

I don't care that it's been days since he last touched me.

I only focus on the relief coursing through me when his damaged mouth covers mine in the sweetest kiss I've ever experienced.

Reaching between us, I close my fingers around the thin cord and pop the buds from his ears. Though my mind swirls with questions, I don't voice them. Instead, I speak with my hands as they skim over the hard plains of his abdominal muscles, taking care to avoid the bruise on his ribs as I work my way up his chest. I boldly press my lips to his chest and my tongue sweeps over the heated flesh in long, languid strokes, stopping only when I've reached his earlobe.

His hands fist the back of my shirt, and all I can think about is getting naked with him in this room. I press myself further into him, feeling the length of his arousal as it grinds against the flat of my belly.

"I've missed you, so much."

His hands tighten their grip, and he releases a sigh of his own. "Cassie, you shouldn't be here. Anyone could come in and—"

"I don't care about someone seeing us. I don't care about any of that anymore. The only thing I care about is you and what's happening between us. Don't you see? We don't have to hide anymore. We can be together and no longer be saddled by guilt." Though my words are muffled by his flesh I know he hears because his shoulders sag as if he's carrying the weight of the world on them.

"Baby, I wish it were that easy. Jesus, I wish I could be everything you need me to be." He cups a hand under my chin and gently lifts my head to meet his gaze. "I'm so sorry for yelling at you, but I needed you to get out of there. It was the only way I could protect you."

"B, don't you know by now that I only feel safe when I'm with you? Without you, I'm empty and weak. I need
you
more than anything else."

I don't give him a chance to argue, I just kiss him. Gently at first, but then I'm no longer able to hold back. He opens, granting me access to explore and tease his tongue with mine. Soon, he's giving as much as he takes, cupping my ass in his hands and lifting me until I straddle his waist. My lips begin to travel as I slowly rock my pelvis back and forth, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck, nipping and suckling from one side to the other.

"Cassie, stop. I can't do this." He pulls back to meet my hurt gaze.

"I know why you're doing this." I draw a breath, letting it out on a long exhale. "You don't trust me with your heart. You're afraid if you give it to me there's a chance it could be broken again."

"It's been shattered once. I'm afraid next time it won't get broken. It'll be obliterated," he says quietly.

I press a single kiss to his lips. "You're my Superman. You're not supposed to be afraid of anything."

"Even Superman had weaknesses."

I flatten my hands against his chest and push back, needing to see his face.

There's pain masked beneath the blood and bruises. By looking in his eyes I know what's happening.

I'm losing him.

My greatest fear is happening right before my eyes, and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

"You coward," I accuse through trembling lips. When he doesn't defend himself, I can't help shaking my head. "You're running away instead of fighting for us."

Letting out a frustrated huff, he stands and paces the floor, then turns and points to his face.

"I
did
fight for us! I'm wearing the fucking scars to prove it. Christ, what more do you want from me?" his chest heaves as he looks down at me with pain in his eyes and anguish on his battered face.

"I want you to tell me it wasn't a mistake, and that I'm not the only one in this room who fell in love." I plead with him.

He brings a hand to his mouth, and his eyes meet mine for the briefest of moments before closing.

"It wasn't a mistake."

I wait for him to keep going. To hear him say he loves me and needs me more than his next breath. But the words never come. It's almost as if the last months never occurred. That everything between us was just a beautiful dream that turned into one horrific nightmare. My heart cracks, standing still as if it's stopped beating.

"Fuck you, Brantley Cage. Fuck you and your goddamn fears," I cry out in despair, beating my fists against his chest. "Fuck you for being so sexy. For coming to my rescue, and for—"

Out of nowhere, he grabs my face, smashing his mouth over mine, forcing his wicked tongue deep inside. Goosebumps prick my flesh. But I'm far from being cold. I meld into him. Tongues spiraling round and round like a wild tornado. Kissing me like he owns me. Kissing me until I'm dizzy and we're both gasping for air.

"Fuck you, Cassie. Fuck you for making me fall in love with you," he growls. Then he storms out of the room and leaves me to process what just happened.

Did he just say what I think he said?

BRANTLEY

This just hasn't been my night.

I came to the arena with the hope of being alone. Being at the frat house means I've had zero privacy for three fucking days. I suppose I could go back to the house, but I really don't feel like going another round with Rivers. Dude's got a mean right hook, and I've got the busted nose and bruises to prove it. I'm fairly certain he doesn't look much better, but I haven't laid eyes on him since I stormed off that night.

I talked to Davis after I left, and he told me he'd given Cassie a ride home. He said she was a mess, and he asked what the hell I'd been thinking kicking her out when she hadn't been wearing clothes. Honestly, once the fists started flying, I'd forgotten everything else. But after speaking with him, it all came crashing back on me.

Making snow angels in the yard.

Cassie standing behind me in my jersey.

Screwing against the pantry door.

I swear to god she looked so fucking beautiful, I half expected animated wildlife to start circling her and singing. Like something out of a Disney movie or some crazy shit like that.

I felt so many things when I looked at her. I wanted to have my way with her on the kitchen table, then take her up to my room and beg her to never leave me. I wanted to tell her to keep my jersey and wear it every goddamn day. I wanted to tell her that no matter how hard I'd tried to fight it, I'd fallen deeply in love with her.

I should have known the fantasy we'd created was too good to be true. We'd been playing house for so long, I'd forgotten our walls were made of glass. Sooner or later, reality was bound to come crashing in.