When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,78
it.
That’s okay, I typed. I understand.
I don’t want you to understand, River wrote back. I want you to punch me in the face until I stop being so ducking scared all the time.
I sagged against the couch cushions and smiled to myself, imagining River in his mechanic’s uniform, his big football player body hunched over his phone. Hope and happiness rose in my chest, making me stupid.
Ducking? I typed.
There was a short pause and then my phone lit up with River’s number.
“I don’t want to punch you in the face,” I said as I answered. “Firstly, I’m not into that kinky shit—”
“Holden…”
“And secondly—”
“Will you shut up for a minute?”
“Damn, you’re sexy when you’re bossy.”
He sighed that was half laugh. “Why aren’t you pissed off? I was a dick to you. You deserve better.”
I ignored that last part, even as my heart ached to hear it. “I’m not pissed. You’re doing your best.”
“I can do better.”
“What does that mean?”
“I want to see you again.”
I laid my hand on my chest. “I do too. But you still have to go to college and I’m still leaving the country.”
“I know. Does that make this a bad idea? Or wrong?”
“A mistake?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t want to see you like how you were on Christmas. Not ever again. I…don’t want to hurt you.”
I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”
“So maybe we try again. Take it slow. See what happens. But…oh, Christ,” River said suddenly with a groan. “I asked Violet to Prom.”
I grinned. “Of course, you did.”
“You and I hadn’t spoken in months and—”
“I already knew.”
“How?”
“I told you. Miller and Violet are soul mates.”
River huffed a sigh. “But Holden, as far as I know, we’re still going together. And even if not, I can’t—”
“Be seen with me in public?”
He made a pained sound.
“I’m messing with you,” I said. “I know the deal and besides, it’s not like all my shit has suddenly vanished either. My mental baggage isn’t going to be cured by spending quality time with your huge, perfect dick.”
He coughed. “Jesus, dude.”
“Alaska is still there. I can’t promise it won’t drag me down again like it did that day.”
I waited with my breath held for River to tell me that he’d changed his mind and that my shit was too much to deal with. That I wasn’t worth it.
“Forget what I said about not wanting to see it,” River said. “I want to be there for you and…help you through whatever I can.”
I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “It’s a lot.”
“Let me take it,” he said. “I want to. I don’t know what’s going to happen with my mom, but when it does, it’s going to be bad. If we help carry each other’s shit, maybe it won’t all seem so damn heavy, you know? Maybe we won’t feel so…”
“Alone.”
“Yeah. Okay so…” River cleared his throat. “I guess we’ll talk soon.”
Disappointment bit at me. This is what taking it slow looks like.
“Yep. Goodnight, River.”
“Goodnight, Holden.”
We hung up and I stared at my phone, stifling a smile to keep it from getting too big and dopey.
I want to see you again…
“Patience, grasshopper,” I told myself. “Good things come to those who wait, or some such bullshit.”
Twenty minutes later I’d changed into pajama pants and a V-neck T-shirt and lay on the couch, flipping aimlessly through TV channels when a knock came at my door.
“Beatriz,” I said, hauling myself up with a grin. “Are we going to make Movie Night a thing? Because I am here for it…”
My words died as I opened the door to River. He filled my doorway, still in his uniform and smelling like gasoline and cologne, his eyes raking me up and down.
“You’re not Beatriz.”
“I’m not staying,” he said.
“That’s…disappointing.”
He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “I never thanked you for the book.”
“That’s why you’re here? To—”
River surged forward and kissed the rest of the words off of my lips. Drank them down along with my breath and my moan of surprise. His mouth took mine with possessive need that left me sagging against him.
For a few delirious moments, I drowned in River; his scent, his skin, and the taste of him—clean and minty—in my mouth. I came to my senses enough to haul him inside, my hands making fists in his shirt. He kicked the door shut and I pushed him against it, kissing him back, my tongue infiltrating, sucking, tasting every corner, because now