Amber to Ashes (The Torn Heart #1) (50 page)

I’m about to strangle the air from his lungs.

Again, I suck in a deep breath, holding it in for a second as I try not to jump over the console to do just that. Sure, I might’ve been the one who initiated last night’s twisted events, but this asshole’s about to cross a fine line between being able to use his dick ever again or not. “First, I know how she feels about everything,” I answer through gritted teeth. “We talked about it on the way back from Atlantic City. Second, the hard truth is I mentally
can’t
do it again.
Won’t
do it again. I wasn’t strong enough last night to tell her no, that I wanted to stop everything in its tracks, nor was I this morning when she brought it up. And for that, I’m paying the goddamn price for it today! Probably will for the rest of my life!” Losing it, my fist connects with the dashboard, further damaging the same knuckles that left their stamp on my wall earlier. “Whatever the case, you’re not laying your fucking hands on her ever again! Do you understand me? Last night was the last time!”

“I’m guessing
Amber
wants to do it again?” he asks after a few, tense minutes, his brow arched as if to accentuate the question as he flicks his cigarette out the window. “And don’t forget, I told you this would be different than it was with Hailey. But, hey. You didn’t want to listen.”

“Yeah, she does wanna do it again,” I answer, my voice hoarse. “And yeah, I know what you said. But I don’t need you or anyone fucking reminding me of it either.”

“So how do you propose
we
tell her it’s over? Do we call her a bad girl and hit her with a rolled-up newspaper? Put her in a corner?” He thrusts his hands through his hair, an air of mockery surrounding
him. “Perhaps I’ll just bounce out of the picture, playing the classic Ryder Ashcroft womanizing dick as I haul my ass down to the sunny beaches of Florida?”

I crack a smirk at his last proposition. No doubt it’d make things easier. Still, I wouldn’t know what to do without him. Having spent my entire childhood up until now with the asshole by my side, the man’s my only living brother. “I need you to tell her no if she asks about hanging out again. That you’re busy. Anything to deter the situation.”

“You really just want me to walk away from her, don’t you? Want me to act like nothing happened?” He picks his head up, his narrowed gaze filled with a slew of emotions I don’t like. “You want me to . . . break her heart.”

I clench my fists, the reality of his words causing my stomach to bottom out as I tear my glare away from his.

“Say it, asshole!” he thunders, his fist taking a shot at the dashboard this time around. “Say it! That’s what you want me to do! Break the girl’s heart, make her feel like trash because
you
thought it’d be
cool
to share her with another guy!”

Knowing he’s right, fully owning up to the fact that I’m the culprit of Amber’s mental destruction—hell, even his destruction—I break, desperation filling my voice as I bring my attention back to him. “Do you know what it’s like to care for someone, love them so much you’re willing to do
anything
for them, regardless of the outcome to yourself? Do you?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice weary as he steps out of the Mustang. He slams the door, pokes his head through the window, his body taut with anger. “Yeah, bro. Thanks to you, now I do. I appreciate the lesson.” He straightens, lights another cigarette, and heads toward the football field as he calls over his shoulder, “I’ll help ya with what needs to be done with Derick, that I give you my word on. But just know I’ll
never
forgive you for making me do this to her.”

As dusk settles over the parking lot, I watch him disappear through the fog squatting heavy over the field. The field we celebrated so many wins in. The field where our unbreakable friendship was formed. I get out of the car and look up to the sky, knowing nothing will ever be the same between us.

Again, the mind can change what the heart thought it wanted—both unrelenting in their battle of wills—and right now, it’s my heart that’s winning the war, even as visions of a broken friendship swallow my thoughts.

As I head into Amber’s building I push through, knowing in the end she’s all that matters. All that’s ever mattered.

Fuck the heart, mind, and friends . . .

CHAPTER 21

Amber

I
T’S BEEN TWO
weeks, three days, and four hours since Ryder’s answered my calls, returned a single text. Two weeks, three days, and four hours since my heart started to beat with a sorrow I can’t begin to describe. I feel used, a piece of driftwood washed up on a beach. I trusted him, felt like we had a true connection. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I wound up being nothing but another Hailey on his list, the clichéd notch on his bedpost.

I hate clichés, hate everything they stand for, and now I’m one of them.

To make things worse, Brock’s become possessive to the point of near insanity, making sure either he, Lee, or one of his several counterparts—none of whom happen to be Ryder—escort me everywhere I go. Be it school, work, food shopping, or a visit to the local bookstore, someone’s attached to my side, their presence but a car’s length away from me as I try to live a seminormal life under my new routine. Caught in the undertow of something I know I’m being lied to about, the truth of what
really
happened that day at Brock’s condo hidden from me, I feel like I’m about to lose it, my sanity hanging by the thinnest of threads with every passing second.

“You have to snap out of this,” Madeline insists, her eyes a deep
brown ocean of concern as she flops onto my bed, tapping my nose with a pack of Twizzlers. “I’m a little tipsy, so not only are you a
serious
buzzkill right now, but you’re starting to worry me.” She tears into the pack of Twizzlers hungrily, nipping one out with her teeth as she shoves one into my mouth. “No joke, I’ve never seen you like this, Amber. You’re depressed. Not your usual depressed either. It must be said that if we’re going to continue our friendship, I have to know what happened. For reals, chick. I want the deets on everything that went on. The deets I’m pretty sure
specifically
happened the weekend we were in Atlantic City. Anything ringing a bell here?” A grin quirks her lips, her Captain Morgan–tainted breath inches from my face as she rolls onto her stomach. “I’m no fool, Moretti. I know Ryder, I know Brock, and I know you. The three of you walking sexpots woke up the next morning looking properly fucked. I also know Ashcroft
didn’t
take anyone up to his suite because he left the casino to go running after you and never returned. Add a thick layer of awkward glances, sweaty foreheads, and Ryder unable to keep his eyes off you the next morning at breakfast, and
whamo!
You’ve got yourself the perfect recipe for one hell of a ménage à trois. Again, the deets,
now
, biotch.”

“You don’t think something’s up with the guys?” I ask, ignoring her inquisition. Taking a bite of the Twizzler, I stare at Jared Leto, who’s staring back at me from the ceiling. I bet he knows the answers to what the hell’s going on. “I mean, considering you and I have basically been put on house arrest the last few weeks, unofficial security guards glued to our hips everywhere we go, you’re not the
slightest
bit concerned that something’s going on? Something the boys are lying to us about?”

Madeline shrugs, her toe tapping the bed to the beat of Nicki Minaj’s “Pills N Potions” as she steals another Twizzler from the pack. “I’m aware they’re lying to us about
something
, Amber. But you know the rules.
No questions asked
.” Another shrug as she gets to her knees.
Ass swaying to the rhythm, she dips her head, plopping a drunk, wet kiss on my cheek. “Besides, whatever lie they’re keeping from us is probably beneficial to our well-being. Why else would they take such extreme measures to ensure we’re cool?”

I dip my brows, shocked at her nonchalance. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. Why would I kid about that?” She slides off the bed, stumbles to her feet, and tosses her crimson hair into a ponytail as she crosses our dorm room, rummaging through her drawers. “You and I started dating our boys knowing what was up the whole time. We knew what they did for a living, how they made their cash flow, and the risks they took to acquire their dough. Why all of a sudden now would we worry or question
anything
they’re doing? Makes no sense. They’ve got us. They’d never let anything
bad
happen to either of us, so why drive ourselves nuts over it?” She pulls on a Hadley sweatshirt and slams back her fifth shot of Captain Morgan, her nose scrunched in disgust as she sinks back onto my bed, handing me the half-empty bottle. “Am I making any sense right now?”

“No, none,” I answer flatly.

She sighs, annoyed. “It’s obvious
something
’s up based on our newly appointed bodyguards, but that just means the guys are playing whatever’s going on safe. You should be happy, not worried.”

“You’re crazy. Absolutely bat-shit crazy.” I sit up and bring the bottle of Captain to my lips, the memory eraser sizzling my throat as I down at least three shots’ worth. “I’m not worried about
us
, Mad.” A fourth, then fifth shot as I shake my head, trying to catch up with her. “I’m worried about
them
. Whatever’s going on has to be bad enough that they have a bunch of idiots following us around. Don’t you see that?
They’re
in danger, not us.”

“Fine. Wanna know what I
really
think’s up?”

“Yes,” I answer, curious if she knows more than I do.

“Okay, I’ll tell you.” She pinches my nose as she wets my cheek
with yet another one of her Captain Morgan kisses. “But
all
great things come at an expense. In order to gain entry into my psyche, you have to tell me what went down in Atlantic City. It’s that or nothing. Take it or leave it.”

I roll my eyes, aggravated that the little blackmailer’s backed me into a corner. “You win. The three of us fucked like animals. End of story.”

“OhmyGod!” Eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, she tackles me, shackling my hands behind my head as she straddles my waist. “I knew it!
Kneeeew
it!”

“Mad, get off of—”

“Wait!” she squeaks, pressing a silencing finger to my lips.

I roll my eyes again, knowing the
real
questions are about to begin.

“Everything makes sense now,” she says, tapping her chin as though she’s a detective working a case. “Your extreme bouts of depression. The way you’ve closed yourself off to everyone. You calling out of work or skipping class so you can crash in bed all day. The insane amount of crying you’ve been doing.” A frown shadows her face, all traces of excitement gone as she squishes her nose against mine. “Amber Moretti, I want the absolute truth from you right now. You need to answer me three questions before I can go on living. My life
and
sanity depend on it.” A pause, the shine of her teeth blinding me as a smirk encompasses her mouth. “How delicious was Ashcroft in bed? Was his cock as monstrous as rumors have it? And can the man eat a mean pussy like he’s about to fry in the electric chair?”

“Get off of me, you psycho lush!” I half snap, half giggle as I summon the strength to throw her to my side. Sadly, she’s tipsy enough that she rolls off the bed, her tiny frame hitting the wood floor with a thump loud enough to cause our neighbor below to bang on the ceiling in response. Feeling bad, I peek over the edge of the bed. “I didn’t mean to do that! You okay?”

I’m greeted with a wiseass, knowing smile. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? Got it bad for Ashcroft.”

“
What?
” I question through a gasp, my heart pounding anew with a fresh round of pain the asshole’s left me with. “No, I’m not in
love
with him. What would even make you think that? I love Brock.”

Brock . . .

She climbs back onto the bed, cradling me in her arms like a mother would her newborn. And she thinks
I’m
dramatic? “Amber, I say that because of the list of emotional unpleasantries I just went through
so
conveniently for you, that you’ve made me endure over the last several weeks. Suck it up, you lucky slut. You have two of the hottest dudes on campus pining over you and you’re depressed, crying like it’s the end of the world because of your confusion about loving Ryder.” She takes a swig from the bottle and blows her hair away from her forehead, a huff leaving her mouth as she hands me back the liquid bliss. “Pfft, more than half the chicks at Hadley, at least the ones who aren’t carpet-munchers, would
die
to be in your position.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” I whisper, fighting back tears. “Ryder . . . disappeared. Hasn’t returned my calls or texts. Plain and simple: he used me the way he has every other girl he’s messed around with.” I slide from the bed and stomp across the room, wishing he were here so I could rip his balls off and feed them to him. “God! I should’ve known better!”

“Wait, stop!” Madeline hops to her feet and catches me by the arm, spinning me around. “That doesn’t seem right. What I mean is, he’s looked just as shitty as you every time I’ve seen him lately. And that’s hard for him considering he’s a walking god. Seriously, it’s like he lost someone, Amber. He looks bad enough that I actually asked him if everything was okay with Casey.”

“What are you trying to say?” I ask, confused as to where she’s taking this conversation. The Captain’s definitely drowning me in his sea. “I’m telling you he wants nothing to do with me, Madeline.
Nothing
.” Now I can’t help it. The tears come, falling fast, falling hard—Mr.
Morgan aiding in their rapidness—as Ryder’s touch, taste, words, and face shroud my vision, every stolen and unstolen moment we shared spiraling through my memory.

Madeline’s eyes soften, her fingers stroking my tears away. “He’s missing . . .
you
, Amber. You have to believe me. Again, so much makes sense now. We went to Atlantic City and after that, both of you changed for the worse. He’s miserable right now and not seeing you, not calling, is the reason for it. I know it, can feel it.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I question through a sloppy, hiccupped gulp of air as I try to compose myself. I want her to shut up. Her words are making me second-guess myself, second-guess what’s really going on with Ryder. “He’s not
missing
me.” I chuckle through my tears, pacing the room as I simultaneously hit the bottle again and gnaw on my thumbnail. I get talented when I drink. “He’s getting off on the fact that he was able to fuck me and then get the perks of
not
having to deal with me and my stained past.”

She shakes her head, her hand capturing mine in a death grip. I halt, my face inches from hers. “Do you trust me?” she asks, her voice soft, soothing.

Trust. Something I’ve never felt. Though I’ve wanted to, it’s not an emotion that’s come easily for me, if at all. It’s foreign to my bones, a rite of passage to those who’ve walked the clear path of a normal life, not one planted with minefields polar opposite of what it stands for.

Still, I nod, hoping I can trust Madeline, praying whatever she says will lead me in the right direction.

“Go to him now, Amber. Find him and tell him that you need him, that you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not in love with—”

“You are,” she interrupts, pulling me closer, her hands squeezing mine harder. “For whatever reasons you have, ones I won’t ask you about because they’re yours to keep, you’re denying your feelings for him.” She sighs and wraps me in her arms. “It’s written all over your
face. Has been for a while. That fine piece of ass owned your heart the second you laid eyes on him, and you his.”

I rear back, my heart thumping out of control as the truth in her words brush over my limbs like a raging wildfire, burning me down to the core. Who am I kidding? I
do
love Ryder. I love him in more ways than I thought was ever possible. Love him so badly it hurts. Love him the way the earth does the warmth of the sun. My unconditional match, he’s whispered his love into my soul, my entire being lost without its calming presence.

Yet how do I call it love for Ryder when my feelings for Brock remain the same, untouched in all they are? There was a time in my life when I couldn’t rustle up a crumb’s worth of feelings, let alone love, for anyone, my heart locked off to the notion as I stood alone, afraid to death of it. I’ve seen what love turns into, the emotion the deadliest disease to the human race. But here I am, my heart bleeding out for two different men, the organ split down the middle between who it truly belongs to and who it truly loves and needs in order to produce another beat.

Confused, but determined to find and tell Ryder how I feel, I swallow my fear of love, my fear of trusting others. Hands shaky, I nod as Madeline hoots out in excitement. “You’re right. I do love him,” I confess, unable to believe I actually said it out loud. “God, I love him so much, Mad.”

“I know you do!” She gathers me in her arms, squeezing me as though I’m
her
lifeline. She has no idea. “That’s why this is a
good
thing, Amber.”

“But it’s not,” I say, working myself out of her hold. I stare into her eyes, mine filling with tears again.
So
weak.
“It’s
not
good. Brock. I . . . I have to tell him. I can’t lie to him or myself anymore. I refuse.” I rush a hand through my hair and sway over to the window, peering down into the parking lot. My vision blurs on the asshole parked outside, who’s there to make sure neither I nor Madeline leave the
building without him following us. “Maybe he’ll understand. Let the three of us go on as we are. He’s the one who wanted this to begin with. Begged to see me and Ryder together.”

“Hold up,” Madeline says, joining me. “Okay, that’s some kinky shit we’ll have to hit another time, but do you honestly think you’re going to be able to keep them . . .
both
?” She hooks her finger under my chin, dragging my attention to her confusion-swamped face. “Amber, you have to choose
one
of them. Not both. Surely you can’t expect that either guy will be
cool
with you loving the other? Come on. You’re noticeably out of it, but that’s just irrational thinking, chicky.”