Page 69 of Unbelonging
So what if he didn't know my last name was Malinski? And so what if he assumed I somehow belonged here? Did it matter? From what his brother said, Lawton would forget me practically the minute he had me. But as for me, I'd have the memory to last a lifetime.
Chucky was lounging in his favorite basket. "Wish me luck," I told him as I shrugged into a white hoodie. He yipped, rolled over, and closed his eyes like I'd interrupted a nap of epic proportions. "Good dog," I said.
Stopping only to grab my keys and new cell phone, I plunged out of the house and made it only a few steps before I stopped, whirled around, dashed back into the house.
I headed straight for the kitchen counter, where the bottle of vodka remained unopened. With trembling hands, I twisted off the top and took a long swig straight from the bottle.
The liquid burned on the way down, and made me sputter and curse when I came up for air. But it was exactly what I needed. A couple of swigs later, I had enough liquid courage to send me out the door all over again. Except this time, I refused to look back.
Chapter 39
Although we shared a back fence, it was still a fifteen-minute walk to his house by sidewalk. The night was frigid with a bitter wind that would've made me run back inside if I weren't so flush with vodka-induced heat, and the knowledge of my own intentions.
Along the tree-lined street, my hair whipped around my face in an untamed fury as the wind came in gusts and bursts. Only a total nutcase would be out walking on a night like this.
I felt myself smile. Iwasacting crazy, and it felt good. No. It felt more than good. Liberating. I was nearly to Lawton's place when I heard it, the sound of keys jangling somewhere behind me, either as someone moved fast or indulged a nervous twitch.
I turned to look. I saw nothing, or at least nothing out of the ordinary. I listened intently. All I heard was the wind rustling the trees and scattering dried leaves on the pavement. I wasn't worried. I'd walked this route too many times to worry, especially in a neighborhood like this. But Iwascurious.
With a mental shrug, I turned back around and picked up the pace. The sooner I got to Lawton's place, the better, and not because of phantom noises or the wicked weather.
Before I knew it, I was running, the wind in my hair and warmth of my skin adding to the strange unearthly feeling that destiny was pushing me on, nudging me into the abyss of the unknown, where nothing mattered except the here and now.
I wasn't me. This wasn't real. There'd be no regrets. And no worrying about tomorrow.
At Lawton's, the gate was open. A good sign. I'd just run up and knock on his door, and to hell with the consequences. What I'd say to him, I still didn't know. I'd deal with it. And if another girl was there? Well, I'd deal with that somehow too.
I stopped in my tracks. What if Brittney were there? Was I really ready to face her? And Amber? "Fuck it," I said, feeling an instant release as I spoke the words out loud.
I was tired of playing nice. If Brittney was there, who knows? There just might be a catfight after all, and I was a lot tougher than I looked.
Before I knew it, my feet were moving again, down his driveway, and toward his front door. This time, I vowed, I wouldn’t be stopping. Near his front entryway, I rounded a thick patch of shrubbery, feeling lighter than I had in forever, right up the moment I crashed into a brick wall.
And the brick wall had a name. Lawton Rastor.
I'd slammed into him with enough force to send me reeling backward. My ass would've hit the pavement a second later, if not for his strong arms snagging me lightning fast and crushing me back into him to keep me from toppling in the other direction.
A whoosh of air left my body. His body was warm and rock hard, and I made no move to step away. He felt amazing. Even better than I remembered. And my memories were pretty darn good.
The top of my head was well below his chin, and I rested my bare cheek against the front of his shirt, feeling warm and safe and carefree in a way that made no sense, given the bitter wind and shitty day that had driven me to act so out of character.
"You okay?" he asked, extending his arms and taking a step backward to study my face. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I registered that he was dressed in all black – black running pants, a black long-sleeved T-shirt, and black running shoes.
I nodded. My breaths were coming in shallow bursts – whether from the run, from the unexpected collision, from my own torrid thoughts, I had no idea. His eyebrows furrowed. He glanced past me, over my shoulder.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
How did I put this? What would that other girl – the more adventurous girl – say? I swallowed and met his gaze, willing him to understand without making me say it. "I was coming to see you. Like you asked. Remember?"
Something in his expression changed, like a coiled knot had been loosened, and then took hold of him in a different way. The corners of his mouth lifted. "Yeah?"
Oh come on. This couldn't bethatbig of a surprise. No doubt, girls threw themselves at him every day. And besides, Ihadbeen invited. Hadn't I?
I nodded. "Unless –" I cleared my throat. "– you don't have company, do you?"
He met my gaze head-on. "No," he said. "But I'd like to."
I grinned up at him, feeling the worst kind of tension leave my body, and another kind arrive in torrents. I screwed up the last bit of courage, and said what the other girl might say. "If you invited me in, I wouldn't say no." I reached out and ran a finger lightly up his chest. "To anything."
