J. Kenner - Wanted

“You think I see you as fragile? You think I don’t want you? Do you have any idea how hard it was to sit in that room just now and not touch you? It was hard enough before the other night, but Jesus, to come as close as we did, and then back it off? It’s like trying to turn the goddamn Titanic, and I feel like I’ve crashed into a fucking iceberg.”

I gaped at him, my heard pounding, my skin prickling. He was saying things I thought I wanted to hear, but I was afraid to hope, and so I only stood there, silently begging him to continue.

“Do you want to hear me say that I look at you and I go weak? That I want to taste you and touch you? That I want to break you and see you shatter beneath me? Dammit, Angie, is that what you want to hear?”

Yes, dear God, yes.

I was screaming the words inside my head, but outside I was too shocked, too amazed, too damn aroused to say anything at all. It didn’t matter. As always, Evan understood me.

His face softened, the vibrancy fading to a passionate glow. “I’m telling you now, because we both need to hear it. I want you, Angelina. I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you. Wanted your fire, and that haunted look in your eyes. Wanted you to look at me the way that you do. For years, I’ve wanted to lose myself in you. Wanted to break you open and see the woman inside.”

“You could,” I whispered, though I’m not sure how I managed to find my voice. “I think you’re the only one who could shatter me.”

“Maybe.” He reached out as if to touch me, but his hand only stroked the air above my skin, as if he was warming himself in my heat, or as if he was afraid that if he lowered his hand those few millimeters to actually make contact, that we would both burst into flames right then.

He may not have touched me, but he might as well have, and when he pulled his hand away, I heard myself whimper.

Slowly, he thrust his hands into his pockets. “I can live with the things I’ve done,” he said. “After all, I can’t be anyone other than the man I am—the man walking the path I made. But we all have a code, baby. And how can I break my own code and still live with myself?”

I realized I was shaking my head in protest. “Fuck your code,” I said, but I spoke gently, my tone in sharp contrast to my words. And then, emboldened, I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his mouth.

I heard his moan. I felt his hands close over my shoulders. I felt the hard knot of passion growing in my belly, the sweet tingling sensation growing between my thighs.

And then, more keenly, I felt him gently push me away.

“Don’t do this,” he said. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Maybe I want to tempt you.”

“I’m not the man you want.”

“You are,” I said earnestly.

“Maybe. But I’m not the man you need.”

I flinched, because he was so very wrong. He just might be the only man I need.

“How do you know what I need?” I demanded. “Because you made a promise to a dead man?”

I saw him wince, and I pounced, sensing weakness. “Do you think I don’t understand why you’re turning away from me? I loved him, too, but he’s not here. And even if he were, he’s not in charge of us.”

I waited for Evan to say something. To pull me in his arms. To tell me I was an idiot. To just plain turn and walk away from me.

But he said nothing. He did nothing.

And my temper flared.

“You know what? Fuck you, Evan Black.”

I reached over and pushed the button to call the elevator. This time, he didn’t stop me.

“Fuck you,” I repeated.

I stood, vibrating with anger as I waited. Finally, the doors opened, and I started to step onto the car. I stopped when his fingers closed around my upper arm.

I didn’t turn.

“It’s for the best,” he said, his voice so low I could barely hear him. “Your uncle was right. I’m not a safe bet.”

I waited one beat, then another. Then I shook my arm free, stepped onto the elevator, and didn’t look back.

I needed to get lost. Needed to get free. My head was swimming with everything that was going on around me—Jahn, my parents, Kevin. And Evan. At the center of it all, there was always Evan. His proximity. His desire. His heat.

His rejection.

I felt as if my mind—hell, as if my life—was trying to tune in to a particular frequency and all it could find was static. As if I was bouncing around lost in the stratosphere with no rope, no guide, to bring me back down to where I belonged.

I was anxious and frantic and needy and confused. I needed release even as much as I needed an anchor. I needed to appease the demons. I needed—

Oh, hell, I didn’t know what I needed. But I knew that whatever it was, adrenaline would soothe it. If I could just manufacture that wild rush of sensation, then maybe all this static in my head would go away. Maybe I could get clear. Maybe I could think.

Because I damn sure wasn’t thinking right then. Not as I barreled down the streets, pushing past other pedestrians, ignoring crossing signals, and letting my feet eat up the pavement.

And I wasn’t thinking when I wandered into department stores. When I let my fingers trail idly over blouses, over jeans, over purses and samples of cologne.

But as I wandered—as my mind started to focus on the ways that I could manufacture that singular sensation that would restore my clarity and help me find my center—that was when my surroundings took focus. That was when I started to realize where I was and what I could do.

What I needed to do if I wanted to get clear.

Department store.

Jewelry.

Do it.

I felt the tingle in my palms and the quickening beat of my heart.

It would be so easy. So fast, so clean.

So perfect.

I mean, sure. Maybe I’d messed up before. But that didn’t mean this would go wrong. This time, maybe everything would come together. Maybe this time, the rush would be enough to pull me through. Hell, maybe it would even last until I got to Washington.

And then—well, then, I’d just have to learn to keep myself in check. Because I’d be a different girl then. A different me. A new Angie altogether.

Just do it.

I sucked in air, willing myself to take it down a notch. I was just a girl. Just a shopper. I was just looking around, just letting my fingers dance over the countertops, the displays. I picked up a pair of earrings, then held them up as I inspected my image in mirror.

I put them back, unimpressed.

I picked up a pair of sunglasses and returned them, too, equally unimpressed.

I was alone, unobserved, and when I picked up the bracelets, then moved to casually drop them into my purse, I was certain that no one would see me.

Don’t.

The voice in my head was bold and assertive, but I wasn’t even certain I’d heard it.

Goddammit, don’t.

I sucked in air, then saw a saleswoman in the shoe department glance my way. I froze, suddenly terrified, then dropped the bracelets back on the display table. There was an exit just twenty or so yards away, and I willed my feet to move me in that direction, because I needed to get clear before I collapsed.

Because I was absolutely certain that the collapse was coming.

It was about the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I managed to make it out of the store before my legs gave out. I sank to the ground, my back to the cool stone façade, my tailored linen slacks probably getting ruined on the filthy sidewalk.

Tourists and locals hurried by me, some ignoring me completely, others glancing warily my direction. I barely saw them through the blur of tears and the red haze of confusion and loss and regret.

Maybe I’d managed to get my shit together in there, yes, but I wouldn’t exactly call it a victory. I was a mess. A horrible, raging, fucked up mess. And all I could think about was the way Evan had held me. The way he’d soothed me. The way he’d kept the nightmares at bay. And, more, the way that I was certain he would keep all my demons at bay. The ones that haunted my nights as well as the ones that crept up on me during the days.

He was what I craved. More, he was what I needed.

But I couldn’t have him. And that one simple truth would end up breaking me.

It took a few hours to pull myself together, and I spent the time wandering aimlessly down the Magnificent Mile and the intersecting streets. Even then, I still didn’t feel clear. I needed to get it out, to talk about what was churning around inside of me. I needed familiarity and forward motion.

Naturally, I called Kat.

I didn’t confess to almost stealing the bracelets, but I did tell her that I was a mess—and that it was Evan who’d gotten me there. Evan and my father and Kevin, too. The whole nasty business that was bubbling up into a big, molten, explosive mess.

And, in true BFF fashion, she’d known exactly what to do—a girls’ night in.

We’d made cupcakes, licked the mixing bowl, drank beer, and talked about nonsense, all of which had brought me down to the level of feeling human. And maybe even slightly centered.

Now we were kicked back in Jahn’s media room, fresh beers in our hands and a plate of warm cupcakes between us. Kat had control of the remote because my uncle’s entertainment system baffled me, and she’d been scrolling through iTunes, looking for something to rent. Now she put the remote in the cupholder and shifted to face me more directly, every bit of her body language shouting that we were about to move from general comfort to a Serious Conversation.

“Not a safe bet?” Kat said, repeating what I’d told her about Evan’s parting comment. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Beats me,” I said, which wasn’t entirely accurate. I’d juxtaposed Evan’s words against Kevin’s accusations, and it hadn’t taken a massive mental leap to reach the conclusion that Kevin must be right. Evan, Cole, and Tyler were into something. I just didn’t know what.

“Oh, come on,” Kat said. “You’ve known him for forever.”

“Hardly,” I said. “I met him when I was sixteen.”

“Like I said. Forever. You must have some idea of why he’d say that about himself.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ve been around him forever. I’ve been in lust with him forever. But ‘being around’ and ‘being in lust’ don’t translate into knowing his deep dark secrets, you know? I mean, I don’t even know where he lives.”

“Seriously? What about Cole? Do you know anything about him?”

I glanced sideways at her, but she just shrugged.

“Not really,” I said. “Not about any of them. They were friends with Jahn, not me. I was still in high school when we met, and I was only in Chicago for a few weeks each summer. I mostly hung out with a sketch pad and pretended to draw when Evan and Cole and Tyler came over. And if I did talk, it wasn’t exactly a conversation full of deep emotional resonance. I mean, we talked about school or movies or whatever Jahn was cooking on the grill, you know?”

“Yeah, but then you went to college and somewhere along the way he got a little hot for you. Which means this has to have been bubbling along for a while, right?”

All things considered, I had to agree that she was probably right. Somewhere along the way, Evan had become as hot for me as I was for him. “Yeah, but I was totally clueless,” I told her. “Even though I was living full-time near the city, I think I saw the guys even less once I started Northwestern. I wasn’t living with Jahn and my school schedule was nuts. I saw them on a few weekends, but it wasn’t like a regular thing.”

She sighed. “It’s so romantic,” she said, with an affected lilt to her voice. “You were like completely blacked out ships passing in the night.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know some stuff. I know he likes his steaks medium rare because that’s how he made them when we grilled out. And I know he likes opera because he went with Jahn a few times. And some Finnish heavy metal band because he and Cole were psyched to get tickets. But I don’t have a clue what toothpaste he uses, what his favorite class was in college, what his first pet was named, or if he committed a felony last week.”

“A felony?”

I waved the word away as if it meant nothing. I had yet to tell Kat about Kevin’s allegations. I’m not sure why I was so reticent, but I think it was because I’d begun to believe them.

The truth was, Evan could very well have dark secrets that were completely hidden from me. After all, when you got right down to it, except for bits of trivia picked up in Jahn’s living room and backyard, I didn’t know a whole lot more about him than everyone else in Chicago knew.