Unknown (Unknown Series Book 1) (8 page)

“Good.” His voice was a low rumble through the room. “Hope he can handle you, Pepper.”

“I’m sure he can.”

Rylen grinned and shook his head before slipping through the back sliding door. Once again, I’m pretty sure he was clueless, and I was a fool. I gathered my composure before I went outside to join them. I wanted to text Remy, but she was at youth camp for her church. She’d want a complete detailed rundown of every moment of our encounter when she returned. And she was going to die when she heard about the tattoo. Just thinking about Rylen marking his skin with a symbol of me made me feel strung tight, hot all over. Perhaps a bit of target shooting was just what I needed.

Not gonna lie; when Tater and Rylen went out to a party that night and didn’t invite me, I moped around the house all night. Were they hanging out with people they’d graduated with? Would Becca what’s-her-name be there? I mean, what the heck? I was seventeen now. I went to parties all the time. Why did they still act like I was a kid?

I sat outside on the old tire swing, lost in thought until late in the night, determined to see them come home. At nearly two my eyes were drooping from boredom. I was just about to go inside when I saw headlights crest over the hill at the top of our street. My stomach wobbled and I held the tire tighter. I’d probably be covered in dirt and black marks, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t recognize the sporty coup that pulled up or the girl in the driver’s seat. I stayed very still until I realized it was Tater in the front with her, and Rylen in the back. Rylen got out and Tater proceeded to swallow the girl’s face. Actually, I couldn’t really tell, but that’s what it looked like from far away. Rylen came straight toward me.

“Saw you when we pulled up,” he said, leaning against the tree. I could smell beer and cigarettes on him. “What are you doing out here in the dark all by yourself?”

“Waiting for you,” I said. The words sent a tremor of nerves through me like roller skates on rough pavement.

A sly grin pulled the side of his mouth upward and he shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’re big boys. You don’t need to wait up for us.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you again.”

He cocked his head at me, as if trying to study my face in the dark.

The door of the car closed and tires crunched in the driveway as the girl reversed. Tater strutted over with a cigarette in his fingers, and I gritted my teeth in irritation.

“What are you still doing up?” he slurred. “Dontchu got school?”

“It’s summer, duh,” I said. “And you’re trashed. You should go drink some water and go to bed.” I smacked the burning nub right out of his hand and he smirked as it went sailing into the dirt.

“Imma eat everything in the fridge first.” Tater patted both of my cheeks and squeezed them in his fingers, pinching me. I could smell liquor on his breath mixed with tobacco. “Aw, my wittle sissy.”

“Stop it.” I pulled back, laughing at his stupidness. He grabbed the tire and gave me a hard swing, making me squeal as I flew high. And to my joy he walked toward the house, and Rylen stayed.

When I started to slow, Rylen pushed off from the tree and his hot hands touched my back, gently pushing me. I swung like that for five minutes in the silence of night, looking forward to each downward swoop when his hands would touch me to push me upward again. Then he grasped the tire with a jolt to stop it, and spun it so that I was facing him. He stood close. His eyes glistened in the moonlight, slightly unfocused. I wondered how much he’d had to drink.

“It’s weird to see you all grown up,” he said in a deep rumble.

My stomach did that truffle-shuffle thing as my brain searched for a response.

“You know,” he said, “when you were little I used to pretend you were Krystal.” Oh, my God . . . his little sister who he lost. I held my breath as he looked away, still talking. “I used to get mad at my mom for making me take Krystal everywhere I went, like I was her constant babysitter or something. I’d get mad at my mom and take it out on Krystal. I was mean as shit to her.”

“Rylen . . .” He’d definitely had a lot to drink. He never let himself talk about his past or his feelings. “You were just a boy.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. And no matter how mean I was, she still stuck to me like a loyal little puppy.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m sure she knew you loved her.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, just stared off toward his darkened house. “I just always wanted to do right by you.”

“You have,” I whispered.
But I’m not your sister
, I wanted to say.

He stepped even closer, enough for us to really see each other’s eyes in the starlight. “There’s so much shit out there in the world. So much fucking evil. There’s times where I’m so submersed in it I start to wonder what the fuck the point of life is. And then I get a letter from you, and it’s like this little light is shining from across the world. Like a piece of gold, making me remember the good that’s out there. The things that are worth fighting for.”

What do I even say to that? I was like gold to him?
Swallow. Breathe. Do not cry.

“If I’m gold, Ry, you’re like . . .
titanium
. Stronger than you know.”

My words made him rock back slightly on his heels and he grasped the tire to steady himself, reminding me he was buzzed. When I kept my gaze locked on his, letting him know I was completely serious, he shook his head in wonder and let out a huff of disbelief.
He absently rubbed his earlobe.

I reached out and touched his chest with my fingertips, gently at first, and then fisting his shirt in my palm, urging him toward me. He stumbled slightly and stared into my eyes as I pulled him closer. He began to breathe harder. Our foreheads touched. Then our noses. My body felt light enough to flutter right out of that tire if I let go of him. Rylen wet his lips and my heart pounded a steady rhythm, chanting
finally, finally, finally
.

With a
bang,
the screen door slammed and Tater tromped out with his hands full. “I found the mother lode!” he called with a mouthful. “Dad’s stash of Oreos!”

Damn it, Tater, no!
My hand released the fabric of Rylen’s shirt. He let go of the tire and stepped away, shoving his hands in his pockets and clearing his throat.
I want that moment back!
Tears of frustration threatened as my heart stampeded inside my ribs. I could feel the angry scowl on my face when I turned back to Rylen. He flinched, perhaps from my grimace, so I schooled my face into something calmer.

“C’mon, man!” Tater yelled.

“You okay?” I asked Rylen.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about that.”

“About what?” Why was he acting weird, like he’d done something wrong?

He let out an embarrassed sound and shook his head. “Will you still write me?”

“Of course.”
Always
. Rylen looked at me for a long moment before listing to the side and righting himself.

“Good.” He ran a finger down his ear and pulled on his lobe. “Maybe we should…go in?”

My heart sank. “Okay.”

He held the swing while I climbed out of it. I’d never wanted to punch my brother’s smiling, oblivious face more than I did as I passed him that night. Instead, I snatched the half-eaten sleeve of Oreos from his nearest hand and gave him a death ray glare when he reached for them. He pulled his hand back.

“Damn, you’re like a viper.”

Rylen chuckled at the exchange.
When I stared at him, he hushed and gave me a quizzical stare back, cocking his head. I had almost kissed him. Would he remember? It would have changed everything, for better or worse. I don’t know where the bravery of the moment had come from, maybe the fact that I knew he wasn’t sober, but it was gone now.

“Enjoy your cookies.” Tater’s way of saying
get lost
.

“I will,” I snarled.

I went to bed that night with a belly full of too much sugar, and a mind full of precious metals, wondering what might have happened if Tater hadn’t interfered. And then I gave my mind permission to imagine the possible scenarios. I fell asleep still cursing my brother’s name.

A
t eighteen, after I graduated, I attended nursing school to get my Associate RN degree. I stayed busy with an overly-full class load, hanging with Remy when I could make trips out to the University of Nevada in Vegas, or whenever she visited home.

Mom and Dad didn’t care that I still lived at home; in fact, I don’t think they were ready to be empty-nesters. They gave me space and I took care of my own laundry. I offered to try and make dinners, but Mom and Abuela wouldn’t hear of it. They were total control freaks in the kitchen. Abuela cleaned up all around me while I did something as simple as making a sandwich, wiping crumbs before I was even finished.

Nursing school was awesome. It was freeing to be in classes about things I wanted to know, rather than boring stuff I was forced to learn. Give me arteries, clots, and bone structure any day over Shakespeare and geometry.

At twenty, I graduated nursing school but jobs were scarce. Our small county clinic wasn’t hiring. I went down to Clark County and the hospital H.R. rep told me their nursing staff was pretty full too, but they needed EMTs and I could be put on the nursing waiting list. So, I took EMT training to become a paramedic.

I felt a driving need to stay busy and useful, and to push myself to the limits, much to my mother’s chagrin. But my trainers commended me for being able to think and react quickly in dire situations, and to still manage a kind, compassionate bedside manner for the injured and their panicking family members. I’d finally found my calling.

It was only a matter of time before work calls began to break my heart. I couldn’t tell anyone the things I’d seen. I’d once tried to tell Mom why I’d come home with bloodshot eyes, trembling, but partway through my story she covered her face and shook her head, begging me to stop. Yeah, I saw some awful stuff.

I was crying in my car after a shift one night when a fire fighter who’d been at the scene knocked on my window. Ken—I think it was short for something Japanese. My stomach gave a small swoop. Ken had been trying to get me to go out with him since we met. Remy thought I was crazy—she’d taken one look at his face at a party two weeks ago and declared I needed to date him, stat. I wiped the tears from my face, but it was no use. He leaned down, resting his forearms on the ledge. I looked up into his beautifully slanted brown eyes, at the black hair long enough to tuck behind his ears.

“It won’t always be this hard,” he promised. “Hang in there.” I’d heard it from Julian, too, about how I had to build scar tissue around my heart, otherwise I’d imagine every patient as someone I love. “Look, I know this sounds fucked up, but you can’t think past the scene in front of you—you can’t think of their lives. You have to look at each call matter-of-fact, mind over matter.”

I nodded, but stared at the steering wheel.

“You wanna . . .” He cleared his throat. “Go get a coffee or something?”

“Ken.” I made myself face him. Remy was right—he was incredibly good looking, but I couldn’t help but hold back. I felt bad every time I rejected him, but my heart was on the other side of the world. “I think I should probably go home. But thank you.”

He patted the car door and gave me an understanding smile. “All right then. Get home safe, Tate.”

I tried to avoid Ken after that, but it was hard when we kept ending up at the same scenes together. Each time, he looked at me with hope in his eyes. Hope that I continued to smash. He was right about what he’d said about the job, though. Eventually the shock lost its power, and I was able to partially numb myself. But only partially.

In late winter, I got a letter from Rylen with a question thrown seemingly innocently into the mix—something he’d never asked me before—
Any man lucky enough to steal your heart these days?

The way my heart danced, I could have run a hundred sprints around the house. I worked up every ounce of nerve and wrote back:
By now you must know you’re the only man who can have my heart, Rylen Fite.