She's Mine - Jenika Snow Page 0,9

Keira finally said once Molly was in the car. She turned her head and looked at her friend, who watched her curiously.

“You like him,” Molly said matter-of-factly.

Keira didn’t lie about it anymore as she nodded. “Yeah. I like him. A lot.”

“And he likes you.”

Keira sat up straighter and turned her body slightly toward Molly’s.

“Oh please.” Molly scoffed. “Don’t act like you didn't see the way he watched you. Like the dude couldn’t even take his damn eyes off you. It was… unnerving.”

A chill raced up Keira’s arms and legs. Yeah, that was a good term to use to describe how Reese made her feel, but it was the best kind of unnerving she could think of.

It was the best kind of everything. And that scared her the most.

6

Reese thought about her the entire ride back home.

Keira.

He should have controlled himself better. And he sure as hell should have not admitted to following her outside. But when she’d looked at him with those big eyes, that vulnerability surrounding her, and because of the circumstance that led up to the drama, Reese hadn’t wanted to lie.

What was the point anymore? Hiding how he felt, what he wanted, had gotten him nowhere in life. He had nothing, no money nor notoriety. He didn’t have status or even more than one friend. Nate was pretty much it. And he could think—assume—maybe she only showed interest, because he was “from the wrong side of the tracks,” but he felt differently.

She made him feel different.

He pulled his pick-up truck to a stop in front of his house, cut the engine, and pushed all thoughts of Keira out of his head. He didn’t want any part of her around this bullshit.

Once he was out of the truck and heading inside, the scent of beer was thick. It was late, and any normal, sane person would have been in bed. Not his old man or mother. And the sound of the television blaring in the background told him it was the former.

He headed toward the living room but knew what he’d find—either one or both of his parents passed out on the couch. They’d either have a cigarette hanging from their mouths or from the tips of their fingers, just waiting to fall and start a fire.

There had been too many times when that had almost been his reality growing up.

Reese passed the entryway to the living room and saw his mother sprawled on the ratty, brown tweed recliner. Numerous burn holes from their cigarettes littered the upholstery. A bottle of cheap gas-station-bought vodka, the kind in a plastic bottle, sat between her thighs. His father sat on the equally disgusting couch, his back to Reese.

Just as he turned to head down the hall to the only safe haven he had in their shitty little house, his father’s slurred voice stopped him.

“Kind of late for you to be coming in, boy.” Smoke from the cigar his father puffed on billowed around him.

Reese wasn’t a fool to think either of his parents gave a shit about what he did or when he came home. Yeah, it was late as hell, but there were times he hadn’t even come home, and they never said a word.

Clearly, his father was in a drunken stupor and decided tonight he’d start shit. It had been a while, so it was due time.

His old man stood and turned to face him. Reese had seen photos of his dad when he was younger. They shared the same six-foot-three height and muscular build, but that was where any similarities ended.

“I asked you a question, and you’ll answer me.” His father took a step forward.

But Reese had long lost any sense of fear for the man. No longer could he beat the shit out of him, and if he did throw the first punch, well, Reese would throw one right back.

He’d thought of leaving far too many times to count, but then he’d gotten the scholarship to BMA, and he knew he had to try to change the course of his future.

The first week he started at Black Mountain, he’d almost said fuck it and left. But then he’d met Nate, a rich motherfucker who wasn’t like the other pompous assholes at school. They’d hit it off, and Reese told himself he wouldn’t let some stuck-up school or the students in it scare him off.

He hadn’t been scared of anything for a long fucking time.

Then there was Max, the only real father figure he ever had. Max,