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Rain is coming down in sheets, battering me as the wind sends it sideways. I yank the back of my shirt over my head by the collar, trying to guard against falling pinecones. Wind tears at my bare stomach. I pull my shirt straight and tuck the front into my jeans to shield my skin.
There’s no way she’s out here in this. She wouldn’t be . . . not for me. But when I turn the corner of the trail, I catch sight of a white T-shirt. And then Sam, her back flush against the black bark of the tree.
Her head is lowered as she stares at the ground. My breath catches in my throat. The rain continues to beat the crap out of me, obscuring my vision, but I don’t blink as I take in her drenched body. Her white T-shirt. Fuck. I’m so fucked.
As if she can hear my thoughts, she looks up. A hesitant smile slides across her beautiful face, and like the lightning striking above, electrifying the air, my heart kick starts. I’m breathing again.
My feet race across the root-covered path, and when I reach her, I swallow hard. Rain water drips down her face, rolling over her full lips, and her black hair is slicked back. Like she just got out of the shower. I try to keep my gaze from drifting lower, but dammit. Her white shirt clings to her body, teasingly revealing the fact she’s either not wearing a bra, or she’s wearing a really thin one.
I’m instantly sporting a semi. I give myself a mental punch to the gut, clearing my thoughts. I don’t know how to start this. My mouth is dry, and if I had any words in my empty head before, they’re long gone. Maybe I misread her paint—
Her arm snakes around my neck, pulling my shirt off my head, and I realize—like a dumbass—I’m still holding it above me. Her other hand goes to my stomach, and I suck in a sharp breath at the feel of her warm skin through the material. Her body presses against me, and it’s so delicate, fragile. She’s shaking. I want to hold her tight. Feel every bit of her.
“What are we doing?” she asks, releasing a small, timid laugh.
I swallow again. “I don’t know . . . but whatever it is, I don’t want to stop.”
Heat blazes in her eyes, desire. And I try to remind myself that this is Sam. My next door neighbor, and the girl I’ve known since she was in diapers. But she’s far more mature than her years; she sees things clearer than anyone I’ve ever met—is more sultry than any woman I’ve ever seen.
Shutting down my brain, I brush a wet lock of hair from her cheek. She gasps at my touch and bites down on her lip, and it’s my undoing. Gripping her soaking shirt, I pull her to me and press my lips to hers.
It’s soft and questioning, us trying to figure out our beat. It’s nervous and unsure, but as her mouth parts to welcome me in, I dip my tongue inside the hollow of her mouth, taste the sweetness of her. When she matches me, her tongue sliding over mine, mingling, heat scorches the back of my throat. My pulse quickens as a tremor rocks me.
She shivers in my arms, whether from the cold or the kiss, I’m not sure. But all I want to do is make her shiver more. And then warm her. I bend at the knees and grasp her thighs, lifting her into my arms. Something primal is taking over—driving out any hesitation. She latches her arms around my neck, locking her legs around my waist.
I’m moving us forward or backward . . . I don’t know. But I feel the tree bark against my knuckles at some point, and I press Sam against it, her body molding to mine. Our kiss becomes crushing and hungry, and I’m suddenly desperate, scared for it to end.
I’ve never opened myself up to anyone like this, especially a girl. I’ve made out with them and other things. Hell, I’m a guy. But with Sam . . . I know I’m vulnerable now. I can feel her reaching in and taking up residency in my soul.
It’s painful and pleasurable and scary as hell.
Thunder cracks above, the rain beats down, but we’re lost beneath a black dead tree—feeling alive.
SAM
I lie still, my eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the night and trying to block out my own brain. It’s useless. I know Tyler is here. I can feel him lurking in my room, and it’s pretty shitty that I’m pretending to be asleep. But I can’t look at him right now. Can’t talk to him.
Before—when we were in high school—it was difficult to be around him after what happened between Holden and me. Tyler and I were only friends, though. It was different then. I honestly felt that my romantic life was none of his business; I shared everything else with him. But there was always the guilt.
Seeing Holden today . . . it’s stirred up memories and feelings I buried long ago. And Tyler can read me better than anyone. I don’t want to lie to him if he asks me what’s wrong. But there’s so much wrong lately it’s hard to choose from, so maybe I don’t have to lie at all.
The important thing is Holden is determined to find who took Tyler away from us.
If I could help, if I knew anything at all, I would stomach being around Holden to see justice done. I just wish there was a way. And that I didn’t fear so much.
The truth is, Tyler might be hanging around because he needs resolution. I’ve thought this every day since I first saw his spirit. If the police discovered who was driving that car, it might free Tyler from this plane. It could be his unfinished business.
I’m a horrible person. I know this. I’m conflicted—wanting to see the person punished for what they did, and not wanting to. I’m just not ready to say goodbye.
A thought hits me hard and I bolt upright in bed. Tyler jumps to his feet, my plush beanbag chair not shifting or making a noise as he rises. It still weirds me out.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, letting my hair fall around my face to hide my expression. “Just had a dream.” Okay, so now I am a liar.
Tyler kept a journal. I don’t think Holden knows about it, and Tyler doesn’t know that I know about it. But one night when I was staying at his residence apartment, I saw him writing in it when he thought I was in the bathroom. I thought it was endearing—not many guys keep a diary—and I never mentioned it. Letting him have that secret for himself.
But if there’s any chance that Tyler’s accident wasn’t an actual accident, then maybe something in that journal could help. I feel slimy just thinking about rea
