Page 21 of No One But Us

I wonder if he’s thinking of his parents. I never saw them fight, but it also doesn’t sound like they’ve been happy for a long time.

“What you’re describing doesn’t even sound like something worth having,” I counter. “I’d rather be alone than just have some like-minded companion around all the time.”

He looks at me, and for just a moment it’s as if a part of him has really listened. And maybe hopes I’m right.

I rise reluctantly. “I should go check on Ginny.” I take one step before my toe catches on something, and I fly forward. He tries to brace my fall, but he can’t before I’ve practically landed on top of him.

Oh my God. I’m literally smothering him with my cleavage. Not embarrassing at all.

He flinches, draws in a quick breath as if he’s been injured and is trying not to show it.

“Sorry,” I gasp, struggling to get up, to ignore his tight clasp on my hips and his breath on my skin. The smell of him—pine and sea air. My hands are on his shoulders as I push off. His perfect, broad, taut shoulders. Even under extremely humiliating circumstances, I can’t stop mentally molesting him. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he says, but the word is tight and controlled.

“My foot caught on something…” I explain.

“Nails,” he says hoarsely as I stand.

“Huh?”

I’m the one who fell, but he’s the one who sounds breathless, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. He clears his throat. “There are nails popping up on the deck. That’s what tripped you. I’ll fix them.”

He jumps to his feet. “I’m going running,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. But he’s already halfway down the stairs.

Chapter 14

JAMES

What the fuck is wrong with me? Aside from actually assaulting her, it would have been impossible for me to handle that worse than I did.

I got too comfortable, let my guard down. We were having a good conversation, the kind I might have with a friend, and yeah, that led to the dangerous thoughts that always come up around her...I wish she was older, I wish things were different. She was playing with this chain around her neck, the charm falling again and again to that warm cleft between her breasts. And every time it fell, I pictured the same thing—my nose buried there, the smell of her soap heightened by the damp heat of her skin.

But I was good. I was responsible. I shut each of those thoughts down, again and again, hopeful that things could just be normal with her if I did it enough.

And then out of nowhere she was in my lap, and I was hard enough to break nails, my mind so consumed with all the ways I could take advantage of the situation that I could barely form words.

I go for a long run, but I don’t come back feeling calm, or resolved, the way I have before. I feel fucked, because if I stay here I’m going to mess up. At this point it’s almost inevitable. There’s a reason recovering alcoholics avoid bars and gambling addicts avoid Vegas. Same reason I need to be somewhere Elle is not.

* * *

The next morning my mother calls, cutting into my thoughts of Elle with...more thoughts of Elle.

“She needs to go home,” my mother announces. “I tried asking nicely, and now I’m telling you.”

It’s perfect, isn’t it? I wanted her to go, and now my parents are going to demand it. And yet I know there’s not a chance I’d be able to do it, or allow Ginny to do it either.

“On what basis? Ginny invited her for the summer.”

“On the basis that I don’t want anything to do with that family. It’s my home. I don’t have to give any more reason than that.”

“She’s 19, Mom. And she has nowhere else to stay. Besides, she’s nothing like her parents.”

“That’s not my problem. I will not lift a finger to help any member of that family. Besides, I’m sure she can find someplace else to stay. They always land on their feet.”

“You’re being unfair. She’s nothing like her parents.”