The Harder You Fall. Gena Showalter

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СКАЧАТЬ Beck, I had no dating life. My scars—”

      “Are hideous. We know, you’ve told us.” She watched as West jumped back into the fray, slamming his big, delicious body into the guy who had his ball. “We love you, anyway.”

      When the final buzzer sounded, the Goal Scouts won four to zero.

      Her takeaway? Mercy didn’t exist in soccer.

      Knowing the boys had to shower and change, she and the girls made their way to the lobby to wait. The Ball Busters emerged first, each man making an obvious point to avoid her gaze as he passed her.

      Had she become total dog food since the game kicked off?

      “Jase,” Brook Lynn squealed, rushing over when her fiancé stepped into the room, his hair damp and his skin scrubbed clean. “You were freaking awesome.”

      He winked at her. “You know I can’t help that.”

      “Hey. That’s my line.” Beck shouldered his way past his friend to get to Harlow. “We’re going out to celebrate our victory. Tell me you’re coming with us, love, or you’ll break the heart you resurrected.”

      Harlow smiled sweetly at him. “Are you paying?”

      Sweat beaded on Jessie Kay’s palms as West moved into view, his gaze hard and steady on the exit, as if he couldn’t wait to leave. He wore a black cashmere sweater and an old pair of jeans tucked into well-used combat boots. He was casual sophistication with a mule kick of dominant alpha, and he outshone every other man present.

      “I’m not paying,” Beck said, and Harlow pouted. “But West is.”

      Harlow—Jessie Kay’s ride—fist pumped.

      West arched a dark brow. “I am?”

      “Well, then, we’re definitely going.” Harlow nudged Jessie Kay with an elbow. “Right?”

      A free meal? “Sure. Count me in.”

      West motioned to the door with a clipped wave and she thought—hoped—he would put his hand on the small of her back to usher her forward. But as they walked to the parking lot, he maintained a steady distance between them. Of course, Jase decided to drive Brook Lynn’s car and Beck decided to drive Harlow’s, the two couples entering their respective vehicles and leaving Jessie Kay and West standing outside. Alone.

      Wasn’t awkward at all.

      He opened the passenger door for her. “Get in.”

      Shocked by the gentlemanly gesture but not the bossy command, she slid inside the vehicle. And instantly regretted it. The air smelled like him, pure seduction and sweet caramel. Trembling, she buckled up and peered out the window, refusing to give in to the urge to watch his big hands molest the steering wheel.

      “By the way,” he muttered, “you still owe me a sandwich.”

      “It’s your word against mine.” Going for casual, she said, “So where are we headed?”

      “A hamburger dive I’ve loved since I was a kid.”

      “Wait. Hold everything. You were once a kid?” She gave a mock gasp, hand fluttering over her heart. “I’m sorry, but I demand proof.”

      “Too bad. There’s none available.”

      Please. “Surely there are pictures.”

      “No.”

      “Well, why the heck not? Did you destroy them? I bet you destroyed them. Didn’t think you looked handsome enough?”

      Without any inflection of emotion, he said, “Actually, no one cared enough to take any.”

      No. No, she refused to believe it. If he was potent now despite the shadows haunting his eyes and the tension that always radiated from him, he must have melted hearts as a child.

      When she glanced over at him, however, her confidence withered. He kept his attention on the road, his posture stiff and his knuckles bleached of color. Just then, he was a man who’d revealed more than he liked.

      He’d just told the truth, hadn’t he?

      Wow. His own parents, however long he’d been with them—not to mention all those foster parents—hadn’t spared a few seconds out of their busy days to immortalize a moment of his childhood? How gut-wrenching. Wrong on every level.

      Sadness for the little boy he’d been washed over her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Even if you’d looked like you were born downwind of an outhouse, I would have snapped a thousand photos of you. And then used those photos to blackmail you later, but my reasons are inconsequential.”

      “Thank you?” He changed lanes to pass a minivan. “But it’s not like I have a monopoly on crappy childhoods.”

      “In this car you do. I had a great one.”

      “You sure about that? You were what, around thirteen when your dad died in an explosion at work? You were only seventeen when your mom drowned and your uncle showed up to save the day only to leave with the insurance money.”

      She blinked over at him. The entire town knew her history—well, they thought they knew—so it wasn’t a big surprise West had the basic info. He was just the first person to ever state the facts so plainly. “I was a teenager in both instances, not a child. Big difference.”

      “Not really. Pain is pain.”

      “And don’t go thinking you know everything about me, either,” she added as if he hadn’t spoken. “There’s more to both stories. A lot more.”

      “Do tell.”

      And share her deepest, darkest secrets with the man who thought she’d been scraped off the bottom of a shoe? “No, thanks.” She had enough trouble with her past without adding his commentary.

      Even now, she thought of her mom falling...because of me...her mom screaming, begging for help...because of me...and she wanted to bawl like a baby who’d lost her favorite blankie, hug Brook Lynn, apologize forever and, and, and—

      As the panic attack knocked at the door of her mind, she forced her thoughts to fast-forward to her mother’s funeral, when she’d basically self-imploded. She’d gotten drunk for the very first time and given her virginity to the skeevy boy who lived down the street. The one who’d thought he was God’s gift to the entire town. The one who’d told all his friends she was easy.

      From that point on, she had been.

      She’d given no consideration to Brook Lynn’s care because she’d counted on Uncle Kurt to take care of everything. He’d promised. Only, like West had said, Kurt fled soon after collecting the insurance check. By then, Jessie Kay had been such a hot mess, the fifteen-year-old Brook Lynn had to pick up the slack, getting a job delivering papers, collecting donations from Strawberry Valley Community Church and doing everything within her power to keep two teenage girls together, fed, clothed and sheltered and, and, and—

      Can’t СКАЧАТЬ