When To Let Go (7 page)

Parker watched his sister and the Baxter triplets get out of Maggie's car.

As they passed through the garage, he called his sister over to where he was fixing a broken go-kart.

The day after he graduated high school, Noah had informed him that he and Malik were thinking they needed an on-site mechanic and offered Parker the job, knowing college wasn't something he was interested in. Parker immediately accepted, loving every minute of it since. The best part of the job was that he still got to see Violet every day, even if it was in passing.

He kept that part to himself.

“How'd it go today?” He asked his sister, knowing all summer she'd been stressed about starting ninth grade.

“It wasn't so bad,” her voice was almost cheerful, which made Parker smile.

“Good. I'm done in an hour. I want to take you to dinner and hear all about it.”

Her eyes lit up.

Parker loved that he had that back, that their relationship was as strong as it used to be. He owed it all to Noah.

“Can we go to Fazoli's?”

“Wherever you want.” He knew the only reason she liked to go there was because of the dessert menu. It was the best in town, and nobody loved desserts more than his sister.

Ava happily gave him a hug before heading inside to join Wes and Maggie.

Violet stayed behind to check on her car.

He wiped the sweat that glistened on the top of his buzz cut.

When he'd buzzed off all of his hair Violet gave him so much shit for it. She made fun of him that he had taken his admiration for her father to a whole new level. Parker always defended that his was kept shorter than Noah's and that it felt better in the desert heat. She'd just smile at him in that coy way that always read, “I call bullshit, so I'm going to internally laugh at you about it.” He loved and hated that smile, it was sexy and infuriating all at the same time. Just like her.

“Feel good to be back at school?” He taunted, already knowing how she felt.

Violet hopped up on the counter near where he was working. He always made sure it stayed clear for that purpose.

“It was awesome. Can't believe I'm lucky enough to get to do it again tomorrow.”

Parker chuckled, admiring her long legs in way-too-short shorts out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t decide if he liked her eyes or legs the best. Both were works of art.

He went over to his tools that happened to be right next to her. He didn't need anything, he just wanted an excuse to get closer. It was a game they played but never acknowledged.

His arm brushed along her thigh as he switched tools.

In return, she brought her fingers out to touch the bare spot on his bicep, “When are you getting this done?”

His eyes went to the only patch of skin on his left arm that wasn't inked.

On his eighteen birthday Stevie gave him his first patch of ink and he’d been addicted ever since.

Now it was a way for the two of them to bond. Any time he figured out a design he wanted, Stevie happily tattooed it on. They'd chat about music and movies, which it turned out they had similar tastes in.

“Still not exactly sure what I want.” That was a lie. He knew exactly what he wanted for that spot, he just didn't have the balls to do it and knew it was the only thing that belonged there.

Her fingers trailed down his arm as they left to curl around the edge of the counter.

“Did it really seem to go okay for Ava?” He wanted it from her perspective, knowing she wouldn't hold back on the truth.

“She definitely had a doe-eyed look all day, but all the freshman did. Wes walked her to all her classes, I think that helped.”

Parker would never admit it, but if his sister had to find a boyfriend, Wesley Baxter was the only boy he'd allow (even though he wanted to punch the kid every time he touched her).

“She's catching a lot of attention,” Violet added, tilting her head to better view Parker working on the go-kart. He purposely flexed his biceps. He had no shame.

“From who?” If she said from other guys he was going to start homeschooling her.

“Wes's fans, scouting out who finally caught his attention,” she mocked, not understanding the way girls flocked to the popular jocks.

“Are they being mean?” His jaw clenched while he waited for her response.

“Not yet. Maggie and I are keeping an eye out. We won't let some bitch bully her.”

Parker smiled, wanting to go over and kiss the hell out of her for watching over his shy, would-remain-sweet-and-polite-to-the-devil sister.

He went for another tool even though the one he had was better for the job. This time he had the side of his body connect to hers.

Out of his peripherals he saw her trying to hide a smile.

He took back thinking her eyes and legs were her best feature. It was most definitely her lips: the perfect shade of pink that turned rosy from his kisses. That color change drove him insane.

He wanted to kiss them. No, he
needed
to kiss them. Right now.

Turning his body just enough to angle his face towards her, he lightly brought his mouth to hers.

She sighed along his lips and it went straight to his cock.

They'd kissed more times than he could count, yet he never got over how soft they were. He'd never felt lips so soft (and he'd had a lot of lips).

The tip of her tongue teased his. She knew how crazy that made him, in the best possible way.

Parker would never let it go past kissing and innocent touches. He needed her friendship and wouldn't risk it over his desires. It wasn't worth losing her. Besides her dad never allowing it, Parker knew he'd fuck it up and lose her in the process. He needed her too much to ever let that happen. Losing her would destroy him.

It wasn't love though, he didn't believe in that.

Right?

He ended the kiss first and she let out a noise of frustration. Now he was the one hiding a smile as he went back to work.

Twenty-three-year-old Ryder sat on his motorcycle across the street from the high school.

He immediately recognized Maggie Baxter's car as it screeched into the same spot it did every school day.

Wesley was the first to get out, hurrying around the back to get to Ava's door and helping her out.

Ryder still couldn't believe that the girl holding Wes's hand was the same one he’d met all those years ago. She was no longer a scrawny kid, but had grown into a curvy young woman.

It had him thinking about the years spent apart.

After he’d gotten out of juvie he was left on the streets, addicted to drugs he no longer had access to. The detox that followed was a blurred memory, but the agony his body had gone through was more than he was able to handle. It made him never want to touch anything that could cause harm to his body or mind ever again.

He lived on the streets for quite some time; work was hard to find when you're homeless with no clothes besides the ones on your back.

He eventually made his way back to Rocco and the auto shop, except this time around it wasn't the welcoming family he had remembered. It was mostly due to the fact that Ryder refused to do anything illegal – there was no way he could ever be in a cell again. He would rather die. They brushed him off, not having any use for him otherwise. It didn't bother him; at that point, nothing did.

He got lucky one day when he was leaning against the wall where he lived. A man came and offered him money if he'd help him with some construction work. Ryder was a hard worker and a fast learner. The guy was so impressed with Ryder's work he helped him find a more permanent job building a new subdivision.

It ended up being the best kind of job for a guy like him. It paid in cash, nobody tried touching him, and he was left alone. The best part was it was outside in the fresh air. He went from city to city, going wherever there was work, traveling further south, a strong desire to get to Arizona. He didn't realize until he was there that he had been leading himself to Parker and Ava.

It had been a few months since his arrival, yet he hadn't made contact. They had made a life for themselves and both seemed to be happy. They had a new family. Ryder couldn't handle it if his presence was unwanted, so he watched them from afar, making sure they remained safe. They were his family, even if they didn't think of him as theirs.

The driver's side door opened and Maggie got out with a shit-eating grin.

Violet jumped out next, slamming the door shut, “Jesus-fucking-Christ, do you have to drive like the whole world’s a damn race track?!”

Maggie grinned bigger, “Yes. Yes I do.”

Ryder couldn't help but smile with her. She had the kind of smile that radiated off her, affecting everyone who saw it.

Maggie and Violet were both beautiful in their own way. The first time he saw Violet his breath had gotten stuck in his throat from how stunningly gorgeous she was. Maggie, on the other hand, was more of a pretty-cute; however, the way her eyes shined and her smile glowed were like a surprise punch to the gut every time he saw them.

He loved how secure in themselves the sisters were. He hoped that trait would eventually rub off on Ava, who one look at the way she held herself told anyone she was insecure and didn’t have a clue how attractive she was. Ryder told himself he did this every morning to check on Ava, but his eyes always seemed focused on Maggie. He was drawn to her innocence and bright hope for the future, both things he’d never had. Not that what he thought of anyone mattered, he would never be a part of their lives. Nonetheless, he was content watching from the sidelines.

The triplets and Ava made their way towards the school, Xavier arriving shortly after and jogging to catch up. He latched an arm around Maggie and whispered something in her ear that had her throwing her head back and laughing.

Ryder revved up the engine to his bike, satisfied that everyone was safe until school let out and he could check on them again.

It was a few weeks after school started, and Ava had formed a comfortable routine that calmed her nerves. Wesley still walked her to every class. Ava still hadn't built up the courage to find out if it was pity or something else. She hated what a coward she was. Lunchtime was spent with Maggie, Violet, and their small group of friends. Wes always came to join them near the end. Occasionally Xavier joined, but mostly to harass and flirt with Maggie.

A girl in Ava's fifth period art class (the only class she liked because her dyslexia didn't get in the way) took an empty chair next to her.

Her table only had two other people at it: some guy who was always playing with his lighter, running his fingers over it or watching it burn lint from his black hooded sweatshirt, and a girl who remained hunched over her sketch pad, drawing until the bell rang.

The girl who was now sitting next to Ava normally sat with the artsy, hipster kids. Ava didn't understand why she was at her table, the one that not even the teacher bothered with.

“Hi, I'm Dakota,” the beautiful brunette greeted, with stunning, almond-shaped dark brown eyes. “Mind if I sit here? The other table gets too loud and I need the quiet to concentrate on my art.”

“I don't mind,” Ava softly complied, smoothing down the front of her favorite yellow sun dress, glancing at the other two for objections. Pyro-kid was watching flames lick his thumb, and Sketchy's hand was furiously moving all over her paper.

Dakota didn't wait for the others to respond (which was fine since they probably wouldn't have), “Great! I'm really glad they have art here. My last school did, but you had to bring your own supplies. The teacher wasn't even an art teacher, he was a computer guy or something. It was any easy ‘A’ though, so I shouldn't really complain.”

“Oh,” was all Ava said, still awkward around strangers, regardless of age.

Dakota pointed at the box in Ava's hand, “What are you working on?”

“I'm painting a bird feeder.”

She made a face, “Isn't that kind of childish?”

Ava didn't think so. Besides, she was painting it for someone else. When Erick, her tutor for English and Math, found out Ava was taking art he asked if she wouldn't mind painting the bird feeder he had made for his mom's birthday. Not able to say no to people and finding it sweet, she’d agreed.

“Anyway,” Dakota waved her hand in dismissal when Ava took too long to respond, “We can't all be artistic.”

Ava noted there was nothing in front of her, “What are you working on?”

Dakota stuck out a thumb behind her, “Eddie's helping me out. I'm drawing a self-portrait and can't seem to get the hands right.” She put hers flat down on the table. “See how delicate they are? I kept making them more like yours.”

Ava looked to her own set, having never given them much thought before. There didn't appear to be much difference between the two sets. She kept quiet, thinking maybe this girl had a weird thing about hands. Everybody seemed to have a quirk or two.

Ava went back to her painting while Dakota continued to talk, explaining all the differences between this school and her last.

“I'm a sophomore. What year are you?” Dakota inquired near the end of the period.

“Freshman,” Ava replied, paying close attention to the intricate flowers she was painting.

Dakota was about to say more but a short kid with braces came over with a sketch that looked a lot like Dakota. It was pretty amazing.

Dakota examined it, “Eddie, you're wonderful!” She flashed him a smile that belonged on the cover of a magazine: glitzy, yet trying to appear natural.

The kid blushed a bright red on every part of his freckled skin.

Dakota batted her lashes and puffed out her bottom lip, “Do you think you can help me with my eyes, too? I always make mine too narrow.”

“Sure,” he eagerly agreed, his mouth remaining open, ready to say more.

“Freshman? Really?” Dakota continued, turning her back on Eddie who was visibly disappointed as he made his way back to his table. “So why do you hang out with juniors?”

Dakota's question surprised Ava, not thinking anyone noticed her, “They're family friends.”

“Oh,” she nodded as though that made more sense. “That's nice of them. I was wondering why that super-hot guy always walked you to class. It must be nice to have a big brother type to look out for you.”

Ava was about to explain it wasn't quite like that when Dakota started talking again, “I have an older brother. He's in college. He's hot, but an asshole. We're only step-siblings, that's why I can call him hot,” she added the last part after a second or two of contemplation. “I don't want you thinking I'm weird or anything.”

The bell rang and Dakota gracefully got up, having the body movement of a dancer, “This was fun. I'll join you tomorrow.”

Ava watched as Dakota swung her hips with each step, winking at the art teacher on the way out, who slyly checked out her ass in her skin-tight leggings. When he looked away he noticed Ava was still in the room and he got just as deep a red as Eddie. He cleared his throat, becoming busy in cleaning up the room. Ava could care less about what she saw. What mattered to her was if he did anything about it.

Wesley intently watched Ava walk over to he and Maggie's car, taking her in. He had been waiting for her to finish her tutoring for the afternoon, just like he did every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Afterward, they got to steal rare moments of alone time.

From the first time he’d laid eyes on her, he knew she was the one. One would think that at eight years old you'd be too young to be certain of such a thing, but not Wesley. He knew then, without a doubt, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and those thoughts had only gotten stronger over the years. All he wanted was to be with her. All the time. Every second of his day. At times he'd almost go mad with his need for her, even when she was right there next to him.

It frightened him, and he worried that if he didn't lock it down the crazed love he felt for her would become too intense to handle. It got so bad at times that he would get jealous of her talking to his sisters over him; sisters that he loved and would do anything for.

A few girls walked by, giggling and waving hello.

He smiled the smile he knew all people seemed to relax around and offered them a hello.

They stopped to chat.

Wes responded on autopilot, like he always did when Ava was close by, too busy watching her.

Years of practice had him carrying on a conversation without even paying attention to what was being said. The only ones who ever noticed were his parents and sisters. Oh, and Xavier, who loved to give him shit for being ‘whipped’ by a girl when he had more than half the school wanting to get with him. He always argued that Wes was too young to be convinced Ava was it for him, that he needed to experiment more before he was sure.

He didn't understand. Nobody did. Wesley didn't care. He didn't need to explain himself to anyone.

A group of senior guys admired Ava's backside as she passed. He clenched his fist, reminding himself that it wasn't rational to bash their heads in. He hadn't prepared himself for the kind of attention she would get upon entering high school. She had the body of a pinup model, topped with an angelic face you wanted to slay dragons for. He should have seen it coming, but he stupidly hadn't. He was used to their own little bubble where the only other guys around were Parker and Xavier. He needed to start making it clear who she belonged to.

“Hi,” Ava greeted in her soft voice that was hard for most people to hear, her shy smile lifting one side of her mouth.

He leaned over, kissing the edge of it before opening the passenger door for her, “How'd it go?”

She shrugged and slid in. He never pushed her for details, knowing she'd talk when she was ready.

Once in the driver's seat he drove off, stroking her inner thigh when not working the clutch. Ava always wore dresses, and Wesley prayed she'd never stop.

By the time they arrived at her house, they didn't have long before he needed to meet up with his dad at the gym and Ava help with dinner. They went out back to their favorite spot since they were kids: a hammock under two magnolia trees. It hid them nicely from the house. They could lay there for hours, holding hands and talking about what ever came to mind. As they got older, it turned into the perfect spot to explore one another.

Normally Wes did most of the talking, but today Ava rambled on about a book she was reading for English. She couldn't figure out if
it
was confusing or if it was her dyslexia that made it so hard to follow.

He tried to follow what she was saying, he really did, but he kept getting distracted by her lips and the way they moved when she talked. She had this cute little shrug to left side of her mouth, the same way people do with their shoulders to say “I don't know.”

They were both on their backs, her tucked close to his side, resting her neck on his arm. His hand was playing with her unnaturally soft, wavy hair. It always amazed him how it shined even in the shade.

She playfully slapped his stomach with the back of her hand, “Are you even listening?”

“No,” he never lied, and didn't understand why someone would. He went to his side, having done it enough times in the hammock that it wasn't hard to do, bringing the arm under her head out and up to support his own, wanting to look down at her, “You're very distracting.”

She laughed, much more relaxed when it was just the two of them, “All I'm doing is talking.”

“Mm,” he kissed behind her ear, his hand trailing under her dress, leaving behind goosebumps everywhere it explored.

He loved to taste and smell her. He didn't know how to describe it, but there was a sweet freshness to it that was uniquely her.

She quickly forgot what she had been talking about, her fingers exploring the same as his.

Her touch electrified him; made him feel alive like he could conquer the world.

He wanted to whisper in her ear that he loved her for the first time. He'd known it was true for a long time now, but the moment was never right and every time he got close his heart rate picked up and his nerves won over. Only Ava had the ability to make him unsure of himself.

The moment was broken when Aunt Stevie called them in.

Wesley reluctantly left to meet his Dad at the gym. They did this a few times a week, not only because they both enjoyed it, but also because it gave them time together. His dad made his sisters join them twice a month to practice their self-defense. From a young age, he made sure his daughters could take down those twice their size.

After a few rounds they stopped to get a swig of water.

Noah wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel, “I know I don't ask you about your sisters. I wouldn't put you in a situation like that. ”

Wes nodded, knowing his dad respected that he wouldn't betray his sisters’ trust.

Noah swiped his head, almost uncomfortable with asking his next question, “There's nothing I need to worry about between Parker and Violet is there?”

Not one to lie, he kept it as vague as he could, “I don't know what's going on between them, Dad.” He had his suspicions, but nothing concrete enough to share (not that he would).

Noah studied his son for a moment, scrutinizing how much he was holding back, “Yeah, okay, you're not going to talk to me about it. I just can't seem to find a good way to approach your sister. It's awkward and I'm afraid I'll get pissed off and say something that will upset her or hurt her feelings.”

“So have Mom do it. She's good with that kind of stuff.”

He nodded in agreement, “I know, but I need to see her eyes. I want to know if she's lying to me or not.”

Wes took a long chug of water, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and got back into the ring, ready to spar some more, “That's your problem. How can she feel she can trust you if you're going into the conversation already expecting that she'll lie?”

His dad cursed under his breath, joining him, both getting into position, “It's sad that my seventeen-year-old son understands things clearer than I do.”

“Seriously Dad, have Mom do it,” Wes puffed, dodging a strike. “She has a way that gets you talking.”

Noah escaped a side kick, the two men bouncing from foot to foot, “Believe me, son. I know. But your mom's too trusting.”

“I don't know what to tell you. What if there
is
something going on?”

His dad stopped, hands on his hips, brows scrunched, staring down at the floor, “I'm not sure.”

They resumed their match, Noah deep in thought and making it far too easy on Wesley.

When they stopped for another water break, his dad (not usually one for talking) continued, “You and Ava being safe?”

“Yeah.” Truth was they didn’t go much further than hands, but Wes didn't find that to be anybody’s business but he and Ava's. He didn't want to pressure her, afraid she'd only say yes because he wanted to. And boy did Wes ever want her.

Noah pointed his water bottle at his son, “Something happens, you deal with it together, handle it like adults.”