Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) Read online

  We ate our tacos and burgers under the stars in the bed of Jonah’s truck while the girls got gigglier and Robin pulled out a little bottle from her purse.

  “What’s that?” Jonah asked when she offered him a sip.

  “Happy juice,” she said with a grin.

  He drank and sputtered. “Vodka?”

  She laughed and drank after him then passed it to Chloe, then me. I hesitated only a moment. I didn’t want to look like a wimp after all. I took a healthy chug. Shit, it burned. They all laughed at my pained expression.

  Eventually, as we passed the little bottle round and round, the pain eased, both in my throat, and in my chest. My heart ached a little less, the edges of my vision blurred pleasantly as my insides warmed.

  Robin leaned into me, her breasts pressing against my arm. She blinked up at me.

  “What?” I said.

  “I asked if you liked Jimi Hendrix. His music is like pure Heaven to me,” she murmured, her breath brushing my cheek, smelling of liquor.

  I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jonah and Chloe making out hot and heavy, his hand brushing under her shirt. Her moan reverberated in the humid night.

  Robin glanced over. “Wanna give them a little privacy?”

  I nodded and lumbered clumsily out of the truck. I turned to help her down, and she let her body slide down mine. She stared up at me, her eyes shining brightly in the moonlight. Behind us, the sounds of kissing mixed with the rushing of the waves and somehow fueled the alcohol riding my veins.

  She threaded her fingers through my hair and pressed against me in a bold invitation.

  And I accepted.

  I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, spearing her mouth with my tongue. She groaned and writhed against me, springing my long-neglected body to life.

  I grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the car. We tumbled into the backseat, a tangle of limbs and fevered ripping off of clothes.

  Release. My body was screaming for release.

  I don’t know if I kissed her again. I didn’t talk. I simply took.

  Once I had her naked, I yanked my own jeans down as she fumbled a condom from her purse. My fuzzy brain wondered in strange detachment why she’d have a condom with her, at the same time registering the glint of the diamond in her belly button ring.

  Her hands scraped my back as I moved up her body and positioned myself above her.

  “Oh, baby,” she whispered on a moan.

  I froze. Baby.

  Slowly . . . painfully . . . I drew back and peered into her face. For a split-second, it was Mel’s eyes I saw and my soul flat-lined in my chest.

  Oh, God. What was I doing? This had gotten way out of control.

  I scrambled back and yanked up my jeans. “I’m . . .” I couldn’t even say I was sorry.

  She laid there a moment, then seemed to cue into the fact that this was going nowhere. Her eyes glistened in the tiny sliver of moonlight, mirroring first her surprise, then her hurt.

  Damn. I hadn’t meant to hurt another girl.

  She pressed herself up and fumbled in the dark for her T-shirt and covered her bare chest. Her labored breathing filled the air.

  “I—”

  “Don’t,” she said. “Just don’t.” Her vehemence surprised me. She shoved on her clothes and shot me a nasty glare as she slammed out of the car.

  Well, shit.

  I ran a hand down my face and sucked in a breath. God.

  Thankfully, she hitched a ride home with Jonah so I was free to go. Alone. I pulled up in the driveway and my mom was outside in her long pink nightie, tapping on the window before I shut off the ignition. I rolled it down and stared at her, confused.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded.

  “Homecoming,” I said. “Why? What’s wrong?” My first thoughts were that something bad had happened to Dad, or that Izzie had gotten sick with another nasty pneumonia and gone back to the hospital like last year. But, if that was the case, Mom wouldn’t be outside in her bare feet, knocking on my window.

  She glanced away, then back. “Melissa’s parents called even though they said she didn’t want them to. They said you should know . . .”

  The world stopped around me. My blood felt like syrup pumping thickly through my veins as fear pricked me with her evil talons. “What? Know what?”

  “She went to the hospital again.”

  I swallowed. It was ridiculous, but I got the instant feeling that it was all my fault. I was the one who’d made her emotional when I knew better. I was the one who’d nearly slept with another girl . . . “The baby?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  I was the one who might’ve pushed her too far.

  September 27th

  I think I can manage to write something again, but it’s been an awful couple of weeks. I’ve managed to avoid Reed this whole time, other than the occasional text. I even lucked out of visiting my grandparents by faking being sick, and I’ve steered clear of my parents and Chris as much as possible. But I’m really not feeling well. I’m an emotional wreck, I feel like a house, I’m puffy all over, and I am so utterly, miserably alone. Yes, I’m bringing it upon myself, but I can barely stand my own company, and I definitely can’t stand to be around anyone else. Even Roxanne.

  But Reed’s there. Always there. At school, on my phone, in my heart. I’ve caught him looking at me, as if trying to read me, his sad puppy eyes begging me to give in. I hate lying to him, and I really want to go to him, tell him the truth, but I can’t. Not now. Not yet.

  Tonight’s Homecoming, something Reed and I always did together. I’ve done pretty good at keeping my chin up, acting unaffected. I ignored all the other girls’ huge ass mums, the talk of the big game, my ex drill team “friends.” I’ve even ignored the stupid, pesky back pain and cramps in my belly, though they’re getting more nagging even as I sit here and write.

  Wait.

  I just noticed my panties are wet. Shit.

  I want my Baby Back

  Time crawled at an unworldly slow pace as I drove back to Brazosport Regional, my brain crowded and yet empty. Of course, Mel didn’t answer her phone.

  I passed the park where I first got up the nerve to kiss her that windy fall day when we were thirteen. Asked her to be my girlfriend. It was dark as an oil slick now, embraced by the night. But in my mind, it would always be lit by the sunlight of Melissa’s kiss.

  God, how had we come to this?

  What could I say to her to make her see me as that guy again? The one who kissed her nervousness away then bought her an Icee; took her to the Freshman dance and declared that sappy song by that boy band she loved was our song; held her as she sobbed countless tears over being adopted . . .

  That’s how we’d come to this.

  I knew exactly how she felt about adoption, the pain of feeling unwanted, tossed away by her biological mother and misunderstood by her family. Of not knowing who she was, where she came from. Sure, she knew her parents loved her, but deep inside, she was always seeking, always yearning. Always feeling lost.

  Of course she’d want to spare a child that. And I pushed her out of my own fear.

  I pressed the accelerator and dared the hospital to move further away.

  The lights of the entrance finally came into view and I slid into a parking space and hurried inside. I found a lonely volunteer desk, but it was empty. I scanned the lobby area but saw no one. I finally spied a courtesy phone, picked it up and dialed zero.

  The sleepy-voiced operator didn’t sound too thrilled with my call. “Operator. May I help you?”

  “Hi. I’m looking for Melissa Summers? She was brought in earlier today?”

  “One moment.” A few keys tapped on the other end. “Let’s see . . . that would be Labor and Delivery, room one . . .”

  My heart sunk like a lead balloon. I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Oh, wait . . .” A few more keyboard s
trokes. “I’m sorry. She was there. She’s been discharged home now.”

  Wait. What? “And the . . . the baby?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that, sir. I don’t have access to patient records, they’re confidential. All I can tell you is she’s not here. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” I hung up and stared at the phone, wondering what to make of that. Well, only one way to find out.

  If it was even possible, the drive to Mel’s house was even slower. Possibly because my brain had turned to mush, my conscience beating it with a sledgehammer.

  We should’ve never broken up.

  I should’ve been with her tonight.

  I should never have been at Homecoming without her . . . and with my hands on another girl.

  I was a mess.

  I drove up to her house and was slightly relieved to find the porch light on. At least they were awake. I took a fortifying breath, prepared myself for whatever wrath they doled out—because I deserved it—and knocked.

  Her dad answered, Chris just behind him in the hall. Great. “Hello, sir. Is Melissa home?” I afforded her brother a quick glance—his blue eyes glinting dark, probably with anger at me—then turned back to her dad.

  He just stared at me, his distaste emanating off him in waves.

  I wilted with a weary sigh. “Look. I’m sorry. I just heard about what happened from my mom. I was at Homecoming. I went to the hospital . . . she was already gone . . . she won’t answer her phone . . . I’ve been trying, but she won’t talk to me . . . I’m really sorry,” I repeated as the words kept tumbling from my mouth in an emotional heap.

  His face seemed to thaw. Just a bit. He tilted his head and studied me as Chris disappeared out of sight. Finally, he cracked the door just wide enough for me to squeeze by. “She’s in her room.”

  Relief made me dizzy. “Thank you.”

  I brushed by him and loped down the hall, barely registering the scent of what must’ve been some kind of Mexican dish they had for supper. I wondered if Mel’s appetite was still good.

  I got to her closed bedroom door and pressed my hand to the cool wood, my heart knocking in my chest. She’d been ignoring me for weeks. What would she say now?

  I knocked.

  “Come in,” her small voice called out from behind the door.

  Gently, I cracked the door and peeked inside.

  She was lying in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. Tears were streaking down her face, her hair was in a messy bundle on top of her head. She looked like a lost child.

  Slowly, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  She eyed me warily but didn’t say a word as I closed the door behind me.

  The room smelled of her. Victoria’s Secret spritzer, wildflower candles, the clean laundry piled in the corner . . . just her.

  We studied each other for several heartbeats as the tears continued to stream down her face. I didn’t trust myself to say anything. I didn’t know what to say.

  But, as I took a tentative step toward her, she hurtled herself from the bed and threw herself into my arms with a cry, nearly knocking me down.

  I held her, stroking her back and shushing her for probably ten minutes until she finally drew back just a few inches and peered into my eyes. “You came.”

  “Of course I came. I’m just sorry it took me so long . . . I didn’t know.”

  She dipped her eyes. “I know.”

  I continued rubbing her back, enjoying the fact that she was letting me. “Are you okay?”

  She snuggled into me a little bit and my hope inched up a notch. “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was having contractions and I thought maybe my water broke.”

  My heart seized. “What?” I pulled back and made her look at me. “Isn’t it way too early for that?”

  She smiled. “Yes. But it didn’t. I’m just an idiot. The nurses told me it was either normal discharge or I peed on myself.”

  “Oh.” I relaxed a little and returned her smile. Especially when I noticed the bump of her belly pressing against me for the first time. “And the contractions? False alarm?”

  “Yes. Again, I was an idiot. They just told me I was dehydrated and maybe a little stressed.”

  I swallowed. I could take a little of the blame for the stress. I brushed a stray hair back from her cheek. “Well, I’m glad you and Peanut are okay.”

  She nodded as her breath stuttered then rushed out. Was that relief? “I’m glad you’re here.”

  I studied her eyes, trying to gauge what she was saying. “I missed you, Mel.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  “And I’m really sorry about what I said. That I pushed you.” I glanced away toward her drill team awards, which only firmed my resolve. This disaster had taken just as much away from her. I turned back. “I was just scared, okay? But I want to be with you. With Peanut.” I leaned in and brushed a kiss to the corner of her lips. “I love you. So much.”

  Her sigh whispered across my mouth and I felt her melt into me. “I love you, too.” She pulled back and looked into my eyes. “And I understand your fear. I’m scared, too. Really scared.”

  Anxiety and fear reflected back at me from her eyes. But she had nothing to be scared of. I had her. I wasn’t letting go.

  Even her father and brother, in all their protectiveness, couldn’t possibly understand her. Not like I did. I had to make this right. “It’s okay.”

  We sealed our deal of fear with a kiss.

  I had my babies back.

  September 27th Continued

  False alarm. I feel like an idiot. Just some contractions the nurse called Braxton-Hicks, and either normal discharge or I peed on myself. I’m betting pee. This baby is like a lead weight on my bladder. The nurses gave me fluids and some shots of medicine that made me all jittery, then sent me home.

  I’m kinda glad my mom called Reed even when I asked her not to. My parents are trying, and I know Chris cares, and I have Roxanne, but there is no one like Reed. Not to me.

  Thank God he came. I’ve realized how scared I was without him and how much I’ve missed him. I want to keep pushing him away, but I’m worn down. I just can’t anymore. If this time apart has taught me anything, it’s that I need him. I hate feeling weak, but there it is. As much as I say I’ll do this alone, I know I can’t. Not without Reed.

  He said he was afraid. Hell, doesn’t he think I know that? That I am, too? But we agreed to not talk about adoption again then he held me until he had to go home. And it was just like it used to be . . . we talked about all kinds of stuff. Serious stuff. Silly stuff. We kissed. We even laughed.

  There were no monsters tonight. Just Reed.

  I have my world back . . . at least for now.

  Time Bombs are Messy Business

  All I can say is thank God for small favors. Robin went home to Dallas, or wherever she was from, and there was no inkling from Jonah that she had spilled the beans about our encounter in my backseat. I had dodged a bullet. A missile, more like it.

  But the guilt was still skinning me alive.

  By the time I picked Mel up for school the following Monday morning, I felt like a living cadaver. I smiled into her eyes and knew I had to tell her. Eventually. Maybe.

  She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” I backed up and started driving.

  “You care if we stop and get breakfast? I didn’t eat and I’d kill for a donut.”

  I glanced into her face just as the rising sunlight sliced across her profile, lighting up her whiskey colored hair like a spotlight. “Sure, babe.”

  She grinned and settled further down in the seat. “So, you never said . . . did you and Jonah go to Homecoming?” Her fingers toyed with the seatbelt. “Obviously, I was a little busy.”

  Tell her. Tell her. This is your chance.

  God, could she hear my heart battering my ribs so badly I thought I might have bruises? “Uh . . . yeah. Th
e game sucked.”

  “Just you two? Did Chloe go? Are she and Jonah still together?” She glanced over, something strange in her eyes and voice. Jealousy? No, not quite. Again, I wondered why she’d been acting so weird about Jonah . . . or was it still the Chloe thing?

  Tell her.

  “Yeah, Chloe went.” That wasn’t a lie. But I was a chicken.

  “Ah . . .” She turned back to the road. She didn’t question me further. Why would she? She’d have no reason to think I’d get half-drunk on Vodka then nearly have sex with another girl. “I’m sorry I missed the game.” And, instantly I knew she was thinking of her drill team friends, the game, all she’d lost.

  Not my stupidity.

  Guilt kicked my ass again.

  “You didn’t miss much,” I reassured her in a small voice.

  She nodded, but didn’t say more. I drove and turned into Billy’s Donuts, ran inside and got her favorite—two lemon-filled and a carton of milk.

  She ate while we drove to school, and some of her melancholy mood—and my guilt—seemed to fade with each passing mile.

  I finally parked and turned to her. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”

  “You sure? No more contractions?”

  “No.”

  I reached over and took her hand, thankful we were sort of back. “I’m sorry things are different and screwed up. But don’t let one stupid Homecoming ruin things for you. The game sucked, I promise.”

  A wobbly smile curled her lips. “Yeah?”

  I squeezed her fingers. “Yeah. Terrible. We were annihilated.”

  A little giggle escaped. “Well . . .” Her eyes roamed toward the school and I watched the same people she did as they laughed and ambled toward the building, appearing to not have a care in the world. Normal teenaged lives, much like what we had just a few months ago. She slid her gaze back to me. “I don’t mind that things are different, Reed. And yes, we made a huge mistake and screwed up, but I kinda figured out these last couple weeks when we were broken up . . .”