Until You (Fall Away Series) Read online

My mother was waiting by the open front door, holding up the leash for me and smiling like she was so clever. Snatching it out of her hand, I walked outside and over to Tate’s yard.

  Madman used to be her dog, too, and he wouldn’t have gone anywhere else.

  “Did you come to say goodbye to me?” Tate knelt on her front lawn near her dad’s Bronco, and I stopped dead in my tracks at the sound of her delighted and uncontrollable giggle. She was smiling like it was Christmas morning, and her eyes were squeezed shut as Madman nuzzled her neck.

  Her ivory skin glowed in the morning sun, and her full, pink lips were open, showing a beautiful row of white teeth.

  The dog was clearly happy, too, wagging his tail with giddiness, and I felt like I was intruding.

  They were a pair, loving on each other, and my stomach filled with butterflies.

  Dammit. I ground my teeth together.

  How did she do that? How did she always manage to make me feel happy to see her happy?

  I blinked long and hard.

  Tate continued yapping to the dog. “Oh, well, I love you, too!” She sounded like she was speaking to a child, all sweet and shit, as Madman kept nudging and licking her face.

  He shouldn’t love her this much. What had she done for him in the past two years?

  “Madman, come,” I barked, not really angry with the dog.

  Tate’s eyes shifted up to me, and she stood up. “You’re being a jerk to the dog now, too?” She scowled, and it was then that I noticed what she was wearing.

  The Nine Inch Nails T-shirt I’d given her when we were fourteen, and my chest swelled for some stupid unknown reason.

  I’d forgotten she had it.

  Okay…not really. I guess I didn’t realize that she still had it.

  She probably didn’t even remember that I’d given it to her.

  Kneeling down to hook Madman’s leash onto his collar, I twisted my lips up slightly. “You’re talking again, Tatum.”

  I didn’t call her Tate. She hated “Tatum”, so that’s what I called her.

  I fixed a bored, superior expression on my face.

  I’d be happier without her around, I told myself. She was nothing.

  And yet, I heard the little voice in the back of my head. She was everything.

  She shook her head, the hurt in her eyes clear as she turned to walk away.

  She wasn’t fighting back, I guess. Not today. The party on Friday night—when I’d humiliated her, and she’d punched my friend, Madoc, in the face—must have been a one-time deal.

  “Is that what you’re wearing on the plane?” I asked, sneering.

  I should’ve just walked away, but hell, I couldn’t stop engaging her. It was an addiction.

  She turned back to me, her fingers fisting up. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just looks a little sloppy is all.” But that was a bold-faced lie.

  The black T-shirt was worn out, but it clung to her fit body like it was made just for her, and her dark jeans hugged her ass, telling me exactly what she would look like naked. With long, shiny hair and flawless skin, she looked like fire and sugar, and I wanted to gorge and burn at the same time.

  Tatum was hot, but she didn’t know it.

  And blonde or not, that was my type.

  “But no worries,” I continued. “I get it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Get what?”

  Leaning in, I taunted her with a smug grin. “You always liked wearing my clothes.”

  Her eyes widened, and with her flushed skin there was no mistaking that she was pissed. It was raging all over her tough little face.

  And I smiled to myself, because I fucking loved it.

  She didn’t run away, though.

  “Hold on.” She held up her pointer finger and turned to walk to the truck.

  Digging under the front seat, in the emergency pack her dad kept there, she fished out something and slammed the car door shut. By the time she’d huffed back over to me, I saw that she had a lighter in her hand.

  Before I could even register what was happening, she’d peeled off her shirt and exposed her perfect chest in a sexy ass sports bra.

  My heart damn near shifted with the fucking pounding in my chest.

  Holy shit.

  I watched, not breathing, as she held up the shirt, flicked the lighter, and dipped the hem into the flame, bringing it to ash piece by piece.

  Son of a bitch! What the hell was happening with her all of a sudden?

  My gaze flashed to hers, and time stood still as we watched each other, forgetting the flaming material between us. Her hair danced around her body, and her storm-filled eyes pierced my skin, my brain, and my ability to move or speak.

  Her arms shook a little, and her breaths, although steady, were deep. She was nervous as hell.

  Okay, so breaking Madoc’s nose the other night wasn’t a fluke. She was fighting back.

  I’d spent the past two years of high school making her life miserable. Telling a few lies, ruining a few dates, all for my own pleasure. Challenging Tate—making her a high school outcast—made my world go round, but she never fought back. Not until now. Maybe she thought that since she was leaving town, she could throw caution to the wind.

  My fists balled up with renewed energy, and I was suddenly paralyzed by how much I would miss this. Not miss hating her or taunting her.

  Just. Miss. Her.

  And with that realization, I tightened my jaw so hard it ached.

  Motherfucker.

  She still owned me.

  “Tatum Nicole!” her dad yelled from the porch, and we both jumped back to reality. He raced over and grabbed the shirt out of her hand, stomping it out on the ground.

  My eyes hadn’t left hers, but the trance was broken and I was finally able to let out a breath. “See you in a year, Tatum,” I bit out, hoping it sounded like a threat.

  She tipped her chin up and only glared at me while her father ordered her inside for a shirt.

  I walked back over to my house with Madman at my side and wiped the cool sweat off my forehead.

  Goddamn. I sucked in air like it was going out of style.

  Why couldn’t I get that girl out from under my skin? Her hot little pyrotechnics weren’t going to help flush her out, either.

  That image would be in my head forever.

  Fear took root in my brain as I realized that she was really leaving. I wasn’t going to be in control of her anymore. She’d live every day not thinking of me. She’d go on dates with any asshole that showed interest. And even worse, I wouldn’t see her or hear of her. She’d have a life without me in it, and I was scared.

  Everything, all of a sudden, felt foreign and uncomfortable. My house, my neighborhood, the idea of going back to school in a week.

  “Fuck,” I growled under my breath.

  This shit had to end.

  I needed a distraction. Lots of distractions.

  Once inside, I released the dog and climbed the stairs to my bedroom, digging my phone out of my pocket on the way.

  If it were anyone else calling, Madoc wouldn’t answer this early. But for his best friend, it only took two rings.

  “I’m. Still. Sleeping,” he grumbled.

  “You still up for throwing a pool party before school starts?” I asked, switching on Buckcherry’s Crazy Bitch on the iPod dock on my dresser.

  “We’re talking about this now? School isn’t for another week.” He sounded like half of his face was buried in a pillow, but it was how he talked these days. After Tate broke his nose the other night, he had trouble breathing out of one of his nostrils.

  “Today. This afternoon,” I said, walking over to my window.

  “Dude!” he blurted out. “I’m still dead from last night.”

  And in truth, so was I. My head was still swimming from the liquor I’d tried drowning in the night before, but there was no way I could sit around all day with nothing but my thoughts keeping me company.

  Tate going to France
for a year.

  Standing in the front yard in her bra, lighting fires.

  I shook the images from my head.

  “Then hit the gym and sweat out the hangover,” I ordered. “I need a distraction.”

  Why did I just say that? Now he would know something was wrong, and I didn’t like people knowing my shit.

  “Is Tate gone?” he asked, almost timidly.

  My shoulders tensed, but I kept my tone even as I watched her come out of her house in a new shirt. “Who’s talking about her? You throwing a party or not?”

  The line was quiet for a few seconds before he mumbled, “Uh, huh.” He sounded like he had more to say but wisely decided to shut his damn mouth. “Fine. I don’t want to see the same people we saw last night, though. Who are we inviting?”

  Looking over at the Bronco pulling out of the driveway and the fucking blonde driver that didn’t once turn around to look back, I clenched the phone to my ear. “Blondes. Lots of blondes.”

  Madoc exhaled a quiet laugh. “You hate blondes.”

  Not all. Just one.

  I sighed. “Right now, I want to drown in them.” I didn’t care if Madoc connected the dots or not. He wouldn’t push and that’s why he was my best friend. “Send out texts and get the drinks. I’ll grab some food and head over in a few hours.”

  I twisted around when I heard the purest little moan coming from the bed. The Purdue girl—I forgot her name—was waking up.

  “Why not come over now? We can head to the gym and then gather supplies,” Madoc suggested, but my eyes were hot on the bare back of the girl in my bed. Her squirming had nudged the blanket down to the top of her ass, and her face was turned away from me. All I saw was the skin and her sunshine hair.

  And I hung up on Madoc, because my bed was the only place I wanted to be at right then.

  The next few weeks were like cave diving with a perfectly good parachute that I refused to use. School, my mother, Jax, my friends—they were all around for me to grab onto, but the only thing that got me out of the house every day was the promise of trouble.

  I dragged my irritable, pissed off ass into English III, trying to figure out why the hell I still came to school. It was the last goddamn place I wanted to be anymore. The hallways were always crammed with people but still seemed empty.

  My appearance was shit, too. My left eye was purple, and I had a cut across my nose from a fight that I didn’t remember. Plus, I’d torn the sleeves off of my T-shirt this morning, because I couldn’t breathe.

  Not really sure what I was thinking, but it seemed to make sense at the time.

  “Mr. Trent, don’t sit down,” Mrs. Penley ordered as I strolled into class late. Everyone was already seated, and I stopped to look at her.

  I liked Penley about as much as I liked anyone, but I couldn’t hide the boredom that I was sure was all over my face.

  “Excuse me?” I asked as she scrawled on a pink slip.

  I sighed, knowing exactly what that color meant.

  She handed me the paper. “You heard me. Go to the Dean,” she ordered as she stuck her pen into her high bun.

  And I perked up, noticing the bite to her bark.

  Being tardy or truant had become a habit, and Penley was pissed. It had taken her long enough, too. Most of the other teachers had already sent me out the first week.

  I smiled, euphoria washing over my body at any possibility of mayhem. “No, ‘please’ with that request?” I taunted, snatching the paper out of her hands.

  Hushed laughter and snorts broke out around the classroom, and Penley narrowed her dark brown eyes on me.

  She didn’t falter, though. I’d give her that.

  Turning around, I tossed the pink slip into the trash and threw open the wooden door, not caring if it closed behind me as I left.

  A few gasps and whispers filled the air, but it was nothing new. Most people veered away from me these days, but my defiance was getting old. At least to me. My heart didn’t race anymore when I acted like a dick. I was thirsty to up the stakes.

  “Mr. Caruthers!” I heard Penley calling, and I turned around to see Madoc walking out of her classroom, too.

  “It’s that time of the month, Mrs. Penley.” He sounded serious. “I’ll be right back.”

  The outright laughter roared from Penley’s classroom pretty clearly this time.

  Madoc wasn’t like me. He was a people person. He could serve you a pile of shit, and you’d ask for ketchup.

  “You know?” He ran up beside me and jerked his thumb in the opposite direction. “The Dean’s that way.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him.

  “Alright, alright.” He shook his head as if to clear away the brainfart that I’d actually go sweat up in the Dean’s office for who knows how long. “So where are we going?”

  I dug my keys out of my jeans pocket and slipped on my sunglasses. “Does it matter?”

  “So what are you going to do with the money?” Madoc asked as he checked out his new ink.

  We’d blown off school and tracked down tattoo artists that didn’t ask for I.D. We found a place called The Black Debs— “debs” being short for “debutantes” —which hadn’t really made sense to me until I’d looked around and noticed that the entire staff was female.

  We were under eighteen, so not legally allowed to get tattooed without a parent’s consent, but they didn’t seem to care.

  Some chick named Mary had just finished “Fallen” across Madoc’s back, except the “e” was inked to look like flames. Kind of looked like an “o” to me, but I didn’t say anything. He wasn’t asking questions about what my tattoo meant, so I wasn’t going to open a can of worms.

  “Only so much I can do with the money right now,” I answered, grunting as the needle sliced through my skin over a rib. “My mother put most of it in a college fund. I can have it when I graduate. But I was able to get some of it now. I’m thinking of buying a new car and giving the GT to Jax.”

  My maternal grandfather had passed away last year, leaving me some land and a cabin near Lake Geneva in Wisconsin. The cabin was falling apart, and it didn’t have any real sentimental value to the family, so my mother agreed to let some interested developers buy it. She put most of the money into the bank under lock and key.

  I actually felt proud of her for insisting. It wasn’t normal for her to make such responsible, adult decisions.

  But I wasn’t at all interested in going to college, either.

  I didn’t want to think about how things were going to change when I finished high school.

  My phone rang, and I silenced it.

  I closed my eyes, while Crossfade’s Cold played in the background, and reveled in the sting of the needle carving into me. I hadn’t tensed up at all, and I hadn’t thought about much of anything since walking into the shop. My arms and legs felt weightless, and the ton of shit on my shoulders had faded away.

  I could get addicted to this.

  I smiled, picturing myself ten years from now covered in tattoos, simply because I liked the pain.

  “You wanna take a look?” Aura, my tattoo artist adorned in dreadlocks, asked when she’d finished.

  I stood up and walked to the wall mirror, eyeing the words on the side of my torso.

  Yesterday Lasts Forever. Tomorrow Comes Never.

  The words came out of nowhere in my head, but they felt right. The script was just illegible enough not to be easily read, and that’s what I wanted.

  The tattoo was for me and no one else.

  I squinted at the little droplets of blood spilling off the end of “Never”.

  “I didn’t ask you for that,” I pointed out, scowling at Aura through the mirror.

  She slipped on some sunglasses and stuck an unlit cigarette in her mouth. “I don’t explain my art, kid.” And she headed out the backdoor. To smoke, I would assume.

  And for the first time in weeks, I laughed.

  Gotta love a woman that can hand you your own ass.

>   We paid and picked up some food, taking it back to my house. My mother had texted and said she was going out with friends after work, so I knew I’d have the place to myself for a while. When she drank, she didn’t come home until she was numb.

  And then—to dampen my mood further—there was a care package from France inside my front door.

  It was addressed to Tate’s dad and must’ve been sent here accidentally. My mom had unknowingly opened it, thinking it was ours, when she was home for lunch. She left it for me with a note to take it next door when I got home.

  But not before my fucking curiosity got the better of me.

  After Madoc had gone into the garage, so we could eat while we worked, I peeled back the flaps to the cardboard box and immediately slammed them shut again. A fat, raging fire burned in my blood, and I was hungrier than I’d been in weeks. I didn’t know what was in that box, but Tate’s smell was all over it, and it was leveling me.

  My brief high from the tattoo slowly seeped out and was instantly replaced with piss and vinegar.

  I dumped it on her father’s front door step before charging back over into my garage to drown myself in car work.

  “Hold up the flashlight,” I ordered Madoc.

  He leaned further under the hood as I tried to unfasten the spark plugs from my car. “Stop struggling with it,” he complained. “Those things can snap easily if you’re not careful.”

  I stopped and tightened my grip on the wrench, narrowing my eyes at him. “You don’t think I know that?”

  He cleared his throat and looked away, and I could feel the judgment all over him.

  Why was I barking at him?

  Looking down, I shook my head and forced down more pressure on the plug. My hand immediately gave way, and my body lurched forward when I heard the snap.

  “Shit,” I grunted and threw the wrench under the hood where it disappeared somewhere in the mess.

  Motherfucker.

  I gripped the edge of the car. “Get the extractor.”

  Madoc leaned back to the tool bench behind him. “No ‘please’ with that request?” He echoed my own words as he grabbed the attachment so I could pry the spark plug out.

  It was a bitch to deal with, and he was probably patting himself on the back that he’d called it.