Page 12 of Hooked on Trouble

“My advice is to stop using the word bang.”

Eyes forward, he accelerates. “I need a new partner.”

“You need new life skills.”

“Says the dude who has the hottest chick I’ve ever seen in front of him and doesn’t seal the deal.”

Man has a point. But being with Raven isn’t about getting laid. I might have a lot of pent-up sexual frustration from the past sixteen months, and the thought of being inside her gets me hard like nothing else, but I have to do this right. I’m at fault here. I hurt her. I need to prove she can trust me. Leaning back, I resume rubbing my temples. “I’m giving her time.”

“Bad idea, bro. With a body and face like that, she won’t stay single long.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

A young boy in the car beside us waves, and Alessi gives him a thumbs-up. To me, he says, “I may like to bang chicks, but I wouldn’t go there. I prefer both my heads to remain intact. What about when you’re done with her? Still a no-go?”

I bristle at the jab, but my history speaks for itself. At sixteen I fell at Tammy Eisen’s feet and professed my love. Three months later I avoided her calls until I had the courage to end things. I chased Jasmine Lee for weeks, fell hard and fast, serenaded her at our high school graduation, then I couldn’t muster up enough interest for a basic conversation. Even Lisa, my last girlfriend, lost her appeal. Never anything specific. No cheating escapades or massive arguments. They each meant something to me, I thought I was in love, then I wasn’t.

What I experienced with Raven in Aspen was different. Bigger somehow. More intense. Josh was living on the street then, my sister sliding downhill fast, and I sensed sadness under Raven’s tough exterior. Unable to fix things at home, I wanted to ease Raven’s pain, feel useful for a change, but her vulnerability hit me hard. Before I knew it, I was telling her about my family, too. Confessed how terrified I was to be anything like my father.

Even for a night, she had the power to ease my troubled mind.

It doesn’t mean I won’t lose interest, the same cycle spiraling. But the idea of Alessi taking her out, even if that happens, has me wanting to snap his neck.

“Definitely a no-go,” I say. He nods, and I stare out the window. The busy city flips by. “I’m giving her space, okay? She’s pissed at me. But I’m not walking away.”

“Just sayin’, I’d be careful how much space you give.”

“Noted.”

But wary. Last week, after I apologized to her in that bathroom, she sat opposite me for the night. I’d said my piece, but I hated admitting I’d been too embarrassed about my family to call her, hated how juvenile it sounded. When Josh pulled himself out of the gutter and started working toward his GED, I pushed that bullshit aside, knowing he needed someone to be proud of him. He needed a stronger hand guiding him, too. Consequences for recklessness promised and dealt.

Now Raven knows the truth.

She didn’t glare or snap at me afterward. We hung out with our friends, laughing and joking. Still, tension hung between us. My knee would brush hers, and she’d freeze. Her calf would touch mine, and I’d fist my hands. Like at the gym, when I’d exhaust myself, every breath pushed awareness into my muscles, my joints. Near Raven, I was hypersensitive, and I’m pretty sure she was, too, always catching her breath the way she was. Unfortunately, when I tried to give her a ride home, she barely looked at me, said no, and walked to the bus alone.

I’ll give her another few days. Time to let my apology absorb and to read the note I kept…the note she wrote—a reminder of what she felt, too. Then it’s full steam ahead. I’ve spent too many hours stroking myself, reliving our night in Aspen: her inked skin rubbing against mine, her sliding on top of me, working her way down. Her head between my thighs. Her hands and lips and tongue working me over.

Falling asleep with her tucked into my side.

“You going to the rec center tonight?” Alessi asks as we pull into the station.

I shift on my seat, thoughts of Raven always making me half hard. “No. Seeing my family. I need to get in as much time as possible the next couple months. Things are looking bleak for Josh.” Just like that, the heat in my veins cools.

He parks, turns off the ignition, but doesn’t move. “There’s a bust going down soon. I don’t know the details, but I’m pretty sure some of Josh’s old gang are about to get it up the ass. I’ll keep my ears open. All we need is one weak link.”

I shove my door open. “Appreciate it.”

I trudge to my locker, looking forward to seeing Josh, but sick to my stomach. I haven’t told him my lead fell through, haven’t busted his bubble of hope. He’s been toeing the line since he got out on bail. Partly born of determination to avoid the punks who led him to drugs, the street, and enough bad decisions to seal his fate, but I’ve lain down the law since this shitstorm began. His arrest was the last straw. If he screws up again, he’s on his own. Cutting him off from the family would gut me, but lax rules are what led us here. He needs to be accountable. Culpable. Our nephews are getting older. Watching. Learning.

If he stays strong and honors himself, I’ll stand by him. Be there for him, whatever he needs. If he falls, I won’t be his safety net again.

* * *

I pull into my mother’s driveway and note the broken gutter on the sloping roof as I shut my door. Must have been last night’s storm. The air smells like earth and wet leaves. A few torn branches are scattered over the lawn. Mentally, I add the gutter to my to-do list, after patching the back deck and repainting the white siding.

When I get a foot inside the door, Jack rushes my legs, chanting, “Cake, cake, cake.”

Colin hangs back, hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized shorts. “Hey, Uncle Nico.”