Vanished: A Bad Boy Second Chance Romance (6 page)

              “Just getting a drink.”

              Is he kidding me?

              He smiles and it’s then I realize he’s carrying a backpack. He shifts it higher onto his shoulder. Whatever’s in there weighs a lot. But why am I concentrating on his bag right now?

              “Getting a drink?!” I shout at him. “And then what, you were just going to leave?”

              “Seemed like the best idea,” he replies. I see he hasn’t changed the way he speaks either. Still stoic, still mysterious, still infuriating. I step toward him, feeling the sweat on my palms spread to the rest of my body. It’s not a warm night, but I’m burning up.

              “The best idea?” I say incredulously as I step forward.

              Six years has led to this.

              I want to kiss him.

              I want to slap him.

              I want to jump on him and kick him and scratch him and feel his body against mine, those big, strong, grown man arms lifting me easily off him, holding me tight until I calm down. I want to feel the stubble on his face and the heat of his body so I know he’s real, that I’m not imagining all of this.

              I stop right in front of him. The wind blows softly, and his smell invades my nostrils, instantly transporting me back in time. This is all just too much for me, and as I look up at him, I realize he still hasn’t reacted to me. He’s giving me
nothing.

              I’m going to slap him.

              No, I’m going to punch him!

              I clench my fist at my side and prepare myself.

              “Yo, is that Mason?” I hear Brad’s drunken voice behind me. I whirl around to see him and Devon sauntering toward us. “Joey-fucking-Mason?! It can’t be!”

              Of all the times for these idiots to show up. I look back at Joey, expecting to see concern on his face. After all, the last time they saw each other, Brad was kicking his ass in the parking lot. But Joey doesn’t look fazed in the slightest. As a matter of fact, he looks…amused, like he’s watching two little kids walking toward him.

              “It
is
you,” Brad gasps, pretending he’s glad to see him, but obviously still taunting him like we’re back in school. “What’s up, buddy? Back in Stonehill, huh?”

              He stops in front of Joey, leaning close until they’re almost touching.

              “We thought you were dead, man.”

              “No such luck,” Joey replies, not intimidated at all.

              This isn’t the same Joey I realize. I mean, it is. The boy I knew is still there, but there’s someone new as well, something strong, something…dangerous. I quickly realize that it’s not Joey that’s the one in trouble.

              Brad scoffs and turns toward me, his face twisted in a drunken, cynical sneer.

              “So what, you come back for your old girlfriend?” he says as he slips an arm around my shoulders. He stinks, and I try to squirm away, but he holds me tight. “Cause, I dunno if you heard, but she’s moved on. She’s got a
new
boyfriend, don’t you, Mia?”

              “Get off, Brad!” I try to shove him aside, but he is too strong. Devon laughs beside him, takes a big swig of his drink and chucks the bottle. It smashes somewhere in the darkness.

              “Let her go, Brad,” Joey says, not moving. “I’m only going to tell you once.”

              “Yeah? You gonna get tough on me, Mason? Don’t you remember what happened last time you tried that?”

              “That was a long time ago,” he replies, taking a step forward. “I’m not gonna tell you again, all right? I’m giving you one chance. Let her go.”

              Brad almost buckles over with laughter, pulling hard on my neck. He takes a big sip of his beer and points at Joey, spilling cheap booze all over my feet.

              “You always did make me laugh, bro—“

              But he doesn’t even get a chance to finish. Joey moves so fast I almost can’t process it, and before I know it Brad is on the ground and Joey’s strong hand is on my arm, pulling me away.

              I look back and see Brad on his back, one hand on his eye, looking like he wants to pass out.

              “Hey!” I hear Devon racing toward us. Joey turns quickly and swings, and now I understand why these two didn’t concern him. He moves like a boxer, strong and fast, and his fist streaks through the air and connects with Devon’s stomach. He doubles over and coughs, braces himself against the ground so he doesn’t fall. Joey leans down and gets right in his face.

              “You done? You all done?”

              Devon coughs and nods, obviously terrified, trying to catch his breath.

              Joey nods his head and frowns, stands up and looks around, noticing a crowd of bystanders at the entrance to the bar that have just seen what went down.

              “Shit.”

              “Who are you?” I say, looking up at a man I thought I knew, but no longer recognize. He looks back at me, and I can see that my words have hurt him. But he looks over my shoulder. A woman on her phone is calling the cops.

              “I gotta get out of here,” he says, turning to go. But I reach out and grab him by the arm. A man who just dismantled two guys with his bare hands should scare me, but I know he’s not a danger to me. He’s already hurt me in the worst way possible.

              “That’s it?!” I snap, screaming at the top of my lungs. “You’re not gonna say anything? Just show up, stare at me and leave? Where have you been, you fucking asshole?”

              The commotion around the door has grown, and people are really starting to talk about what just went down. Joey looks around nervously, finally expressing some emotion.

              “Look, I gotta go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here tonight,” and before I know it, he leans in and kisses me on the forehead. It’s like a bolt of lightning straight into my soul, and I feel my knees drop out from under me. I bury my face in my hands.

             
Don’t cry. Don’t do it
.

              I look up and see his back, again, as he rushes off across the parking lot and vanishes into the shadows.

              I’m another two drinks in when Cassidy shows up. She lets herself in and finds me moping at the kitchen table. I’m an absolute mess. The fakest smile comes over my face as I look up at her in an attempt to not look as pathetic as I feel right now. But she sees right through me.

              “Oh, God,” she says, setting her bag aside and taking a seat beside me. I feel her warm hand as she rubs my back. “What happened?”

              “Joey…” I manage to say, my face pressed against the table. “I saw Joey tonight.”

              “Oh no,” she says, sighing deeply. “Honey, are you feeling all right? You sure you just…didn’t have too many drinks?”

              “No!” I say, sitting up quickly. Too quickly. My head starts to spin and I sit back down. “I’m not seeing things! He was there! He kicked the shit out of Brad!”

              “Jesus, really?”

              “Yes!” I say, sitting back, trying to keep my head from swimming. “And Devon! Cass, you should have seen it.”             

              “Joey?” she says, as if what I’m saying is completely impossible. But what reason does she have to believe me? I don’t know if I’d believe her if she told me this. In fact, I probably wouldn’t. “Joey Mason. Your high school…whatever, who’s been gone for six years, showed up at Gina’s and beat up Brad and Devon?”

              Wide eyed, I simply nod. She frowns, eyeing me for any signs of delusion or psychosis, I assume. Then, satisfied, she nods slowly.

              “Wow.”

              “I know,” I say. Neither of us seems to know what to say next, and we just sit there in silence for a minute.

              “How did he look?” she finally says.

              The image of him standing there outside the bar flashes quickly into my mind.

              “Incredible,” I say longingly. “You should have seen him. He’s tall, he’s strong, he…I don’t know…”

              This is all just too much for me, and between the booze and the night’s craziness I’ve just about reached my limit. My head lolls to the side and I slide my arm out and collapse onto the table. A deep breath escapes my lungs as I try and process my current situation.

              What do I do now? Where is he? Am I going to see him again? Why would he come back now? That’s when I realize—he could have been watching me for days. For weeks, for months! It was only luck that I saw him tonight. I wasn’t even supposed to be working; maybe he has been going there for a while now. And if he has, what does that mean? Is he back? Back from where? I need answers.

              I rocket up out of my chair and head for the door, grabbing my jacket off the hangar on the way.

              “Mia? Wait, where are you going?”

              “I need to find him,” I say, almost at the door.

              “No no no no,” she says, coming up behind me and taking me by the arm. “You’ve had a little too much to drink tonight. You’re not going anywhere.”

              I feel her hand slide into my pocket and grab my keys. She’s right, but it doesn’t make this any easier.

              “Gah!” I shout, stomping my foot like a little girl. “Fine. I’ll walk!”

              I wriggle out of her grip and stick one arm in my jacket.

              “Mia! Mia, wait,” she shouts, racing up behind me. I reach out and open the door and pull it open to find…

              Joey standing on my front porch.

              Cassidy races up behind me and practically jumps out of her skin when she sees him.

              “Oh!” she shouts, slapping a hand over her mouth. She turns to me, and I see her out of the corner of my eye. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.

              “Hey, Cass,” Joey says, all cool and shit.

              “Joey! You’re—you’re
alive
!”

              Joey chuckles and grins, then shrugs casually. His eyes move to me, and my stomach twists like I’m about to throw up. I brace myself against the doorframe. By the looks of him you’d never know he was just in a fight with two guys. He looks like he could have been out for a late night stroll or just wandered over to borrow some milk.

              As I look at him, I want to break down and cry. But I can’t. The night has been draining already, and I’m too exhausted. Two seconds ago, I wanted to run out and find him, but seeing him standing here on my porch, like he belongs here, like it’s okay for him to be gone for years and then just drop in unannounced, makes me want to kick him in the shins, and I have a change of heart.

              “Get out of here,” I tell him.

              “Mia,” he says, his voice sending chills up my spine. “We should talk.”

              I throw my hands in the air, exasperated.

              “What,
now
you want to talk? After all this time?” I drop my arms and let them hang loose at my sides.

              This is killing me. I want to tell him off, to kick him off the porch and make him feel the pain I’ve felt for the last six years. But I also desperately need to know. I need to know where he’s been, why he left…I have so many questions. I have no reason to be nice to him, but I have reasons to hear him out.

              “Just let me come in,” he says. I puff air out loudly through my lips, making a show of how annoyed I am. I look at Cassidy and roll my eyes.

              “Let him come in!” I say, laughing at how arrogant he still is. “Just let him come in, huh? What do you think, Cassidy? Should I let
Joey
come in?”

              She twists her lips and crosses her arms across her chest, ready to back me up. She’s such a good friend. She’d never leave me without warning.

              “I don’t know, Mia. Kind of presumptuous, isn’t he?”

              I turn back to him, hoping to see him at least
slightly
annoyed, but he’s got a smirk on his face like we’re a couple of silly little girls.

              “I mean, we’re pretty much strangers at this point,” I say to everyone involved. “And I don’t just let strangers come waltzing into my house.”

              I’m really laying it on thick, but I deserve a little time to be a brat, if you ask me. I am giving Joey my sauciest look when he just shrugs and barges past me into the house.

              “Whoa, whoa!” Cassidy says, backing up, ready to pounce on him if I say the word.

              “Relax, Cass. I’m not here to case the joint.”

              “Mia?” she says, getting between him and me.

              “It’s okay,” I say, finally giving in. As much as I hate to admit it, I do want to talk to him. I do want answers. I need them. “He can come in.”

              Her eyes flick back and forth from me to Joey and back again.

              “You sure?”

              I nod. “It’s okay. I’ll call you later.”

              The sweetest concerned smile crosses her lips and she reaches in and hugs me. As she pulls away, she gives me one last confirming look. I nod again and she smiles and heads out the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

              I turn to face him. My apartment suddenly doesn’t seem like my apartment with Joey standing in it. It’s like it’s his now, like he owns the place and I’m just a guest here. Without even trying, he’s somehow able to invade every aspect of my life just by existing. In school, all he had to do was stare at me from across the hall, and even for the last six years, while he’s been gone, he’s been stuck in my head like a splinter. And now, just standing in my apartment, he’s throwing my life into turmoil and he hasn’t even said anything yet.

              “Six years,” I say sullenly, breaking the silence. “Six. Years, Joey.”

              When I look up at him, I see the slightest bit of emotion register across his face: regret. But the hint of weakness only makes me angrier.

              “Did you think I’d just be waiting for you all this time? I’ve moved on, Joey. I’ve forgotten about you.”

              My words don’t even seem to register as he turns away from me and inspects the room, no respect for my privacy or my space. He unzips his sweatshirt and tosses it on the couch. His t-shirt is rough and worn on the back of his shoulders, revealing the tanned skin beneath. I hate myself as I feel the age old desires for him coming back. There’s no denying how ruggedly handsome he’s become.

              He stops at the bookcase, and I almost panic. His eyes land on the Eiffel Tower statue he gave me, and my eyes instantly move to the floor. So embarrassing. Here I am denying feelings for him and the proof of my lie is right there. But he doesn’t pick it up or even acknowledge it. He just moves on and comes back to stand in front of me.

              “Where are all your paintings?” he asks, like we were just having a simple conversation. I frown. What a ridiculous question to open with. After all this time, he’s going to ask me about my paintings. I roll my eyes so he can see it.

              “At my mom’s house,” I say with a shrug. “All packed away.”

              “You mean you gave it up?”

              I don’t answer. It’s not something I like to admit, even to myself. The truth is, I haven’t made time for it anymore. Something always seems to get in the way, and the passion I used to have for it just seems to have faded into the background, drowned out by all the clutter of real life.

              I envy people who have the time to pursue their interests. Painting supplies aren’t cheap either, and I’m not really in the position to go blowing money on what is essentially a hobby. Besides, the chances of actually making it in this world as an artist are slim to none. At least that’s what I tell myself.

              “Ever make it to Paris?” he asks me. God, what is this? Doesn’t he know I don’t want to make small talk? Is he just nervous?

              “What do you want, Joey?” I hear myself say, trying so hard to disconnect from this moment, to do anything to make it easier. He’s standing so close to me that I can smell him, and it’s intoxicating. I want to jump him—but I also want to punch him, and I can’t decide which of those things is going to win out.

              “Don’t marry Ian.”

              My head snaps to him and we lock eyes. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through me, and I feel the urge to want to punch him starting to win out.

              “What? How do you know about Ian? What do you know about Ian?!”

              My chest tightens up, and I can feel my ears get hot.

              “I know you don’t love him,” he says, with that confidence in his voice driving me crazy. I step forward, fists balled at my sides, the urge to punch him completely drowning out the urge to jump him.

              “What have you been doing? Watching me? Like you were tonight at the bar?”

              “No,” he says. “Well…sort of, but listen, Mia—“

              “No! No you listen to me!”

              I stick a finger in his face, all the anger and rage I’ve kept pent up for all this time boiling up inside me. But something else is rising up too, something hot and vile, squirming up into my throat, and before I know it—

              I puke, all over Joey’s pants and shoes.              

              “Oh, God,” I groan, more embarrassed than I could ever have imagined being. Without thinking, I wipe my lips with a sleeve. “Ah, no…” That will need to be washed now.

              “It’s all right,” he says with a sigh. He’s just being polite. How in the world could this possibly be all right? And how has this suddenly gone from me being pissed off to me being embarrassed?

              “You have some paper towels?” he asks, looking around the room.

              “In the…kitchen,” I say, waving my arm in the general direction. I try to get myself under control, pushing the sick feeling in my stomach down as Joey returns to clean up the mess. There’s no worse feeling in the world than throwing up, and I’m so embarrassed I want to crawl into a hole and go to sleep for a hundred years.

              “Mia,” he says. I feel his hand on my shoulder, and my stomach twists, and I lose it again, all over the floor. This couldn’t be going any worse. It’s impossible. I hear the sharp intake of his breath, but he says nothing. No doubt he’s utterly grossed out and annoyed, but he keeps it to himself.

              “How much did you drink tonight?” He sounds concerned.
              I shrug and give a non-committal groan, feeling his strong arm slide under mine. He lifts me easily to my feet.

             
He is just as strong as he looks
, I think as he leads me slowly through the living room, down the hall to the bathroom. I feel so small and powerless beneath his grasp, and I resent him for the fact that I love it.

              No sooner do we get through the door do I feel my stomach spasm again.

              “Oh, God!” I say, clamping my hand over my mouth and breaking free of his grasp.