Recklessly (7 page)

              “Daddy came to pick you up. It’s
way
past your curfew,” Wes muttered as he jumped down to the pavement then helped her down.

              “Shut it. And be nice,” Lana said, just as Rick reached the vehicle. “Rick. Wes. Wes. Rick,” she added with various hand movements. Rick stuck his hand out in a civil gesture completely antithetical to the coldness in his eyes.

              “Hey, man,” Wes said, and Rick nodded once.

              “Lan?” Rick said in an urgent tone, implying that he wanted to leave that instant and not a second after.

Wes held Lana by the waist, pulled her closer to his body, and melded their mouths in a kiss far too passionate for a woman he’d known only a few hours. He was under the spell of having to prove a point. His arrogance was a weakness he let best him frequently, and he recognized it, but he couldn’t help himself sometimes.

              Rick cleared his throat and he put some space between himself and them. When the kiss ended, Lana circled her arms around Wes’ neck and, with laughter heavy in her voice, she said, “He’s not interested, you know. You’re so silly. Good-bye, Wesley Elliott.” With a peck on his cheek, she went off to link arms with Rick. But she turned back to him again, a playfulness in her glare when she caught him staring at her butt. “You’re staying a little longer?”

Wes shook his head. “Nope. Going home to think about you
in the operative word.
”

*

“Char?” Wes asked, incredulous, once he was parked in front of his house half an hour later. His cousin was fumbling with the top lock of the deadbolt at the front door. Sometimes it got stuck, but she was clearly drunk. She muttered a curse word before she spun to face him, looking embarrassed at first, but her expression quickly lightened up as she studied him.

“If you ask me anything about my night, I’m asking about yours, too. In front of my parents,” Wes warned as he walked toward her with a mischievous smile, but it was gone before he even let it settle in, and quickly became a grimace. “At least it’ll give them something else to talk about besides the shit they’re yelling at each other for constantly, right? How were they on the ride over here?”

Charlotte, decidedly not looking at him, sat on the steps, her body language reading like she was about to placate him. “Um, they were Uncle Beau and Aunt Syl, Wes…you know…” She flashed him a quick smile when she lifted her gaze, but her lip was trapped between her teeth. “And I had my headphones on.”

“It was bad, wasn’t it?” Wes clenched his jaw as he sat next to her.

“Wes…” She put her hand on top of his, and tilted her head onto his shoulder. “I don’t know if you want to hear this stuff. I wouldn’t if it were my parents.”

“I wish they
were
your parents,” he blurted out before shaking his head. “I mean I wish they were more like Uncle Dan and Aunt Vicky.” Wes sighed. “Abel’s been telling me for years to stop trying to fix them, but I can’t. He thinks it’s about their marriage, but it’s more than that;
they’re
self-destructing…as people. And I…I can’t give up on my mom and dad. If I could file the fucking divorce papers myself, I would, Char. Just to free them from the hell they’re in. Happiness is still out there. I just think neither of them remembers.”

Her eyes widened slowly as she took him in with the lift of her head, the moonlight highlighting her pensive look. “Wow…maybe deep down, Wesley Abraham, you’re some kind of a romantic.”

“…Or maybe you can just tell me what you know, Char.”

From her, a look of resignation followed. “I overheard mom talking to Aunt Syl a few weeks ago…” She paled as she held up her hands, an instinctive defense maneuver, and this worried him; it usually meant some unfortunate fan was about to meet a whole lot of shit. “And I can’t say for sure, Wes, so you can’t say anything or say you heard it from me or even pretend you know about this, but it sounded like they were discussing another woman. A woman—”

“What? Like my dad is having an affair? Fuck.”

Charlotte, looking reluctant and regretful, squeezed his arm. “I don’t know for sure, Wesley. Mom was whispering and speaking as vaguely as possible whenever I was within a few feet of her. Aunt Syl seemed upset. I don’t know.”

“Forget it. This shouldn’t be your problem…”

“Maybe it shouldn’t be yours either…” she whispered.

Wes sighed. “So, how did school go this year for you?”

“Good. I got around to declaring my major. I had thought about rushing one of the sororities once, but I decided to focus on being as involved on campus as possible so I can run for one of the student government positions in the fall. Grades are good. Three point four average for the year.”

Wes hugged her close to him. “Proud of you, Char.”

“The girls on my hall were hoping to see you before—”

They were both startled when the front door suddenly swung open, and Abel stepped outside, maneuvering aggressively to sit between them. “You guys are loud as fuck, especially when my window is right there,” he said, pointing. “Where’d y’all go tonight? Why do you smell like a night of regret, Char?”

“You’re an asshole. I’m going to bed,” she announced before she hopped up and ruffled both their heads as she slipped into the house.

“I hate that she’s old enough for us not to be able to boss around anymore. I just hope some dude wasn’t banging her on a wall or something,” Abel whispered after she shut the door.

Wes cleared his throat to mask his laughter. “Yeah…”

“Hey, baby bro, I got distracted with getting ready for mom and dad’s arrival, but how ya been? I’ve been meaning to ask. I know in a few weeks—”

“It’s the fifth anniversary of Erin’s death,” Wes said, sighing. “I’m fine. Truth is, Abel, she’s no more or less dead than she’s ever been.” He saw the quick snap of Abel’s gaze toward him in his periphery. Dead ex-girlfriends weren’t just gone on the anniversaries of their deaths; they were still
not living
the other three hundred and sixty-four days, too.

“Her mom says she’s been having trouble reaching you, so she called me.”

“I’ll give her a call.”

“They’re planning something…to honor her. It’s the same day as Ribsy’s bachelor party. Marcus called me, too. Wanted to know if I thought you’d answer the phone this year.”

“I hope you told him absolutely the fuck not. He has nothing to say that I want to hear, Abel. He was fucking my girl behind my back. To me, he’s as dead as she is.” 

              But once he was back on the couch to catch a few hours of sleep, he couldn’t think of anything other than Erin, like he always did around this time, and with her, it was never just a superficial passing thought.

Five years ago, Wes had been a milder version of himself. Indulging in his party lifestyle but considering what it would be like to share it with someone else. Erin Cartwright. Beautiful. Bright. His. Waiting after the competitions and appearances. Posing on the red carpets. The late night phone calls. Video messages when he was away. She had made him believe in a possibility that love could be something far better than his parents. So he let himself give in, opened his soul up to the vulnerability that came with loving someone else, and allowing them to matter in a way that could break you, even if you hoped they never would. Wes was so drunk on her, so high on everything she was, the very knowledge of her existence left him with a perpetual burn in the bones.

And all of it had been a lie.

He hadn’t seen her in the weeks before she died because he was on a surfing trip, getting barreled all over South America for Lava. They were supposed to meet up that day he got back, and when she hadn’t shown up, he had driven to her house, passing a gruesome car accident really close by there. Shiny car parts were scattered like metal breadcrumbs across the pavement. The burning cage of a car looked like Erin’s, but no one likes to think that way. Especially when you surmised that the Devil would’ve built a sustainable ice luge in Hell before it were possible for someone to survive all the lapping flames.

But
someone
had. Marcus. Though, with second-degree burns over ten percent of his body. Later, Wes would find out that Erin had been trying to drop Marcus off at his house before going to meet
him
. They had been arguing about Wes, and Erin, unfocused, had made the right on the red light without realizing an SUV was coming. It was some kid texting, but who still had the right-of-way. He smashed into Erin’s car so hard it tore the engine from its compartment, severing the fuel lines.

There was no driver’s side left.
Burned beyond recognition.

No Erin left.
Died instantly.

Just what he had to mourn in her place.

The end of her.

The end of love existing without pain.

Chapter 3 Good Girls go to Heaven but Bad Girls go to Fun Places

“Wes! Wake up!” Ian, their trainer, yelled, and a rough shove sent him flailing backward to the ground off the Indo Board he was using to strengthen his balance. He wished Ian would stop screaming; if the constant and painful contact with the ground wasn’t making him more alert, no amount of loud noises would.

              “You know if I get injured, I can’t surf, right?”

              “Well, I might be doing you a favor then. Where is your head today?”

              “Probably should ask where his head was last night. Hope it was worth it. You suck today.”

              “You suck every day,” Wes countered. “You’ll suck all summer doing everything.”

They had a lot of work obligations coming up to keep their sponsors happy: publicity appearances, photo shoots and lots of surfing trips, but Wes was also thinking about the upcoming surfing contests. He was camouflaging his anxiety about not feeling prepared beneath very fallible bravado. He didn’t mind being called Deuce; he just didn’t want to
be
deuce. But the bad decision quotient of staying out late the night before still couldn’t trump spontaneous bathroom sex. It never would.

              “Doubt it. And you’ve never beaten me at anything, Wesley. I was even out of the womb first,” Abel said, tilting the Indo Board to one side while maintaining his balance.

              “Uh… how about you two go inside and get in the pool, where you can talk about your mom’s body parts to yourselves,” Ian said with a shake of his head. “Don’t try to be a hero, Abel, take it easy. I’m still on the fence about you even being here.” He was a hard-ass, but Wes trusted his experience because he had his eye on Bali, and he needed to win the wildcard position in Tahiti to get there. Ian was a former free diver and surfer turned high school swim coach, and Wes had been working with him on his endurance for paddling out to far off barrels and controlling how long he could hold his breath under water in preparation for the treacherous waves off the coast of Tahiti and Bali, where they could easily swell up to ten feet.

              Wes carried his Indo Board inside the rec center to the bleachers and pulled his cellphone from his bag. Calls from Dylan, Charlotte, and some other numbers he didn’t recognize, but none from Lana. She hadn’t called him at all. Not when she got home, not this morning, not even a text, and Wes was surprised by how disappointed he felt. And while he could admit to himself that it wasn’t
just
related to his ego, it was still
pretty
related to his ego. Women
always
called the day after. Even Madison and Natalie had called.

              “Dude, the sooner we get in, the sooner we can get out of here,” Abel yelled in an impatient tone, and it was followed by the sound of splashing. “Remember, Char is stuck with
our
parents right now.”

              Wes tucked his phone back into his bag, strode over to the pool and cannonballed through the surface. Once the ripples settled, Abel pushed off the wall to start the warm-up. Wes darted after him, determined to cut the distance between them. He knew Abel would crush him today during the pool training, subpar shoulder and all; he was exhausted.
Because of sex with Lana. Because of Lana. Who hasn’t called.
Wes tapped the wall, flipped and pressed for the other side with powerful strokes, hoping the strain in his body would clear his head. Abel was waiting with a smug look as he sat on the edge of the pool.

              “Pathetic, Wesley.”

              “I know. So tired.” Wincing from the muscle fatigue, Wes pushed up to sit next to him. “I didn’t really plan to be out that late last night, but I met this girl…we had sex…and then we hung out some more before we left.”

              “You went back to her place?” Abel gave a dismissive gesture to Ian, who was signaling for them to get back into the water.

              “Nope....” He pulled his arm across his chest, stretching out the muscles. “…Restroom.”

“You banged a girl in the bathroom at
Vices?
That’s so nasty, dude.” Abel scrunched his nose. “I’m so fucking jealous.” He nudged Wes hard in the ribs. “Wait…is that who you were checking your phone for? A one-night stand? You don’t want them to call, baby bro.”

“Come on, guys!” Ian’s demanding, thundering claps echoed around them. “Ten by fifty, let’s go!”

“Whatever, dude,” Wes said. He couldn’t imagine a complete twenty-four hours going by without some kind of contact from her.
Why do you care about this? Because she was awesome and so was last night. And because it’s me, so she has to call.
He wanted to know it had been great for her, too. Since when did he not leave a lasting impression?

But since when did he fret over a chick?

“She’s cool?”

“Yeah, dude. Good taste in music. Knows about surfing, too. Funny. Gorgeous. Just
so
herself, it seems.” As much as he tried to dampen his own excitement about her, he suspected Abel knew him well enough to see right through it.

He smirked. “I’ll make sure to attend the wedding. You want a blender or toaster?”

“Shut up.” Dreading how much he’d be hurting later, Wes dropped down into the water and set the timer on his waterproof watch. He hated the two minute, ten by fifty meter sprints, but there was no way he was about to let Abel beat him and then smirk like an asshole from the edge of the pool again. Abel slipped in next to him with a mysterious and cunning smile on his face.