The Worst Kind of Promise (Riverside Reapers Book 2)

FAYE

I look up at the ominous storm clouds as they inch across the desolate sky, draping the night in everlasting darkness. The promise of rain is poised on the horizon, waiting to fall in tandem with my tears. The streetlamp beside me flickers precariously, a large beacon that shines down on me like I’m a moth caught in a filth-covered flame. Cold air spills over my naked arms and legs, raising goose bumps on flesh, and the cement patch I’ve claimed as home for the time being has made my core temperature drop.

My dress—once a thing of happy memories—has been forever tainted. I can’t feel my body. It’s like it doesn’t belong to me.

See, that already broken part of me has lost another crucial piece tonight, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back.

I look at my phone and check the time. Ten minutes have passed since I called the only person I could trust—the one I knew wouldn’t ask questions and who just so happened to be in Pennsylvania visiting a friend.

I called Kit Langley.

Star left defenseman for the NHL’s Riverside Reapers. One of my brother’s best friends. The guy I’m secretly in love with—the guy who looks at me like I’m his kid sister.

I’m sitting on the cold, hard gas station curb, wondering why I can’t feel the rain penetrate my clothes when a Jeep Wrangler pulls haphazardly into one of the parking spaces, parking diagonally across two white-painted lines. The door swings open with enough force to jar me from my thoughts, and Kit’s behemoth frame lumbers out of the vehicle. The minute I meet his dark eyes, I feel mine surge with water, and despite my efforts to keep my emotions at bay, all of my tears flood out of me like a fast-rising tsunami.

Kit races over to me and yanks me up by the arms, pulling me into his large chest. His grip suffocates me, but I don’t try to pull away. He’s mumbling something into my hair, his hand cradling the back of my head, the rapid thundering of his heart a steady medium in my ears.

When his embrace loosens and he backpedals to look at me, his eyes are alight with worry, a muscle in his jaw flickering. “What happened?” he asks.

I’m not alert enough to form a coherent sentence, but my voice box is vibrating before I have the chance to clamp my lips shut.

“I…” My chest feels tight, like there’s a thorn twisting in my sternum. Pair that with the tears wanting to make a quick getaway, and I’m pretty much as useful as a push sign on a pull door.

“Faye, breathe. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Kit says, the softness in his tone wrapping around me like a gentle caress. His hands are still on my arms, and he’s craning his neck down to look at me.

A few sobs slip unbidden from my mouth as I inhale shakily, forcing my bloodshot gaze to focus. My vision is peppered with all sorts of ink blots, and my tongue feels like it’s swollen to twice its size.

Anger tears across his expression. “Faye, who hurt you?”

“He’s…I…”

Come on, Faye. You’re safe. You’re with Kit. You’re not in danger anymore.

But was I ever in danger, or was it my past playing tricks on me?

The minute I stop trembling from nerves, I break down into a gigantic, blubbering mess, clinging to the back of Kit’s shirt. He hugs me with the same bone-crushing desperation, absorbing the weight of my pain, wringing every tear from me until I’m nothing but a hollow shell.

He uses his thumb to brush away the moisture glistening on my cheek.

My stomach rolls with nausea. “My date. H-he—I said no…” I choke, the sweat on my brow now covering every bare inch of skin.

Kit’s eyes heat with understanding, and every muscle in his upper body ripples with iron-hot rage. The cords in his neck are taut, the veins in his forearms like individual rivers of power snaking up to bulging biceps.

“Did he—”

“No,” I whisper. “It wasn’t his fault. I sent mixed signals.”

I’d gone back to his place, we’d started kissing, and then he’d rolled on top of me, and that long ago night came rushing back with such ferocity that I froze. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move, and he took that as a sign to start undoing my dress. It felt like he was peeling off the tattered walls that protected my soul.

“There’s no such thing as mixed signals. Either you’re into it or you’re not. And it’s pretty fucking clear when a chick isn’t.”

“But I was,” I whisper. “Until I wasn’t.”

Kit reaches out to, I don’t know, maybe cup my cheek, and I flinch. He stops and lets out a litany of swears so harsh they feel like sandpaper grating against my skin.

“Where. Is. He.”

It’s not a question.

I trap the plumpness of my bottom lip between my teeth. “Kit, stop.”

A guttural rumble stirs deep within his chest. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

“Kit…” I reach out to lightly touch his arm, and he seems to melt a little, but not much.

With a bracing breath, he rakes his hand through the front of his hair, looking about a second away from hitting whatever poor, helpless object is in the vicinity.

“I’m taking you to file a report.”

“No,” I say, panicked. The last thing I want to do is explain this whole horrid, confusing story to another person.

“I’m not doing this with you right now, do you understand?” he snaps, gritting his teeth. “You’re going to get in the car and go to the police station.”

I flinch at the bite in his tone, wrapping my arms around my midsection. “Nothing happened.”

“Well, clearly something happened.”

Unable to maintain eye contact, I drop my watery gaze to stare at the middle of his chest. “Not tonight.”

“Then when?”

“A long time ago.”

“Does Hayes know?”

At the idea of telling my brother the truth, panic whirls through me like a Category 5 hurricane, determined to bring me to my knees. “No. And he can’t know.”

In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have said that, because the lid that Kit’s already struggling to keep on his anger has completely blown off into the stratosphere.

“You’re calling him.” He firmly grabs my wrist, urging me toward his car.

I plant my heels into the ground and pull back, managing to break free from his steel vise. Granted, it takes all my strength and a good amount of my breath.

“If I go with you, we can’t tell Hayes.”

“Faye…”

I’m thrown by his gentle protectiveness, the uncharacteristic softness I didn’t think Kit was capable of, much less willing to show me. Kit’s callous. He isn’t compassionate or particularly thoughtful, but it’s not because he actively chooses to be an asshole. He just isn’t perceptive when it comes to others’ emotions. But I’ve never seen him so distraught before.

“Please, Kit. I can’t bring Hayes into this. You know how reckless he can be. If he finds out, he’ll lose it.”

Humorless laughter dances out of him. “Oh, and you think I’m super calm, cool, and collected right now?”

Even with my skittering pulse, there’s enough fire inside of me to light a match. It scalds my insides, wanting to burn every weak part of me, wanting to turn that meek little girl still crying out for her mother into flakes of ash. “I don’t need you to play hero! I just need you to be here for me. I called you because…”

His eyebrows jerk together expectantly. “Because?”

“Because I trust you,” I finish.

Ever since Hayes joined the Riverside Reapers—a National Hockey League team born and bred in Riverside, California—I’ve had a crush on Kit. He and my brother have been friends for four years, and even though they don’t always see eye to eye, they’re always there for each other.

As much as I trust Kit, I don’t think I could trust him with my heart.

Kit doesn’t believe in strings, whether they’re attached or not.

I know liking an unreformable womanizer is a disaster waiting to happen. Kit doesn’t date. He never has. He’s almost always pictured with a new girl, and each relationship lasts as long as a hockey game. If I wanted to get my heart broken, I’d let Kit manhandle it all he wants. As much as I wish things could work out between us, I’m smart enough to know that Kit can’t give me what I need—he can’t give me stability or reassurance or unconditional love.

Like any well-adjusted young woman with a burning hatred for romance, my endless search for love is in part thanks to my absent father. When my mother died of cancer, my father abandoned his parental duties, leaving me and my brother to fend for ourselves. The only thing he was good for was the money he sent us.

I knew Kit was going to be in town this week. And a part of me wanted to reach out, to grab lunch with him, to just see him. But I knew better. So I was going to let him coast through Pennsylvania without so much as a text.

Not only would keeping my distance benefit me, but it would probably save Hayes from going into cardiac arrest. Hayes is a…protective…older brother. He’s never approved of my previous boyfriends. He never thought they were good enough for me. If he found out I liked one of his best friends, his whole world would implode. He’d probably ship me off to a nunnery overseas. After he castrates Kit.

Kit’s lips wrench into a frown, and I wish we were meeting under different circumstances. I wish he was disarming me with that million-dollar grin of his, the one that makes paper-thin wings flutter in the pit of my belly.

“I’m sorry for losing my cool.” He sighs, letting the knots of his muscles slacken, his voice returning to a lukewarm drawl. “You’re scared. Flying off the handle isn’t going to help either of us.”

Upon seeing me shiver, he glides his hands gingerly over my arms, generating a spark of heat within me.

“Come on. Let’s at least sit in the car while we talk things over.”

I nod through the debilitating lump in my throat, letting him guide me to the passenger door.

The minute I get into the safety of his Jeep, the roar of the outside world comes to an anticlimactic stop. All I can hear is the mingling of our breaths and the jittery whirring of the heater coming to life.

“What happened?” he asks, his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.

I shift uncomfortably against the leather seat, a yawning hole of dread opening inside of me, threatening to drag me under and fill my lungs until they forget what crisp air feels like.

“I was on a date with a guy. Everything was going well. We went out to eat, then he invited me back to his place. It-it all happened so fast. We were in the living room, laughing about something stupid, indulging in glass after glass of wine…and then he was on top of me. He was on top of me, and I couldn’t scream, no matter how hard I tried. I tried saying no. I was frozen.” A string of words, almost all obstructed by the thickening saliva and errant tears in my mouth.

My head sloshes with the insuppressible memories, and my gut does a nosedive all the way to my toes.

“When I finally got the courage to move, I pushed him off me. He had no idea what was happening. I just freaked out. I was so embarrassed. I grabbed my things and ran like hell,” I supply, my hands shaking despite being planted safely in my lap.

This night has brought up a past trauma I’ve tried so hard to bury. Trauma that’s haunted me for five years now. It’s teleported me back to the night of my senior prom—when I was raped by a man who claimed to be my friend. Ever since then, I’ve been wary to go on dates, to trust men. And yet, I went on this date voluntarily, thinking I could gain control over my trauma.

I was wrong.

Kit doesn’t say anything for at least two minutes.

And then he loses it.

He curses so loudly that it echoes in my ears, and he punches the steering wheel, rocking the entire car in the process. I’m surprised he doesn’t break anything. His ivory-colored fists are strained, and his arms twitch with an ungodly amount of tension. I think he’s going to lash out again, but all he does is inhale deeply.

Kit rests his hands on the steering wheel, the surface of his knuckles throbbing with a crimson hue. “What do you want to do?”

The last thing I want to do is go home. Or be by myself. But I don’t really have another option.

I want to stay with you.

“Take me home,” I finally decide, the weight of my solitude bearing down on my shoulders.

Kit’s leg bounces against the underside of the steering wheel. He’s so large that he takes up the whole space, even with his seat pushed all the way back. His head is flush with the ceiling, his elbow eating up the entirety of the console between us.

He ponders me for a moment, swishing my weak words around in his mouth, then grimacing like he hates the taste of them.

He sticks the key in the ignition. “I’m not taking you home.”

I buckle my seat belt even as uncertainty courses through my veins. “Then where are you taking me?”

“To my hotel room,” he says, looking over his shoulder as he backs out of his makeshift parking space.

With his arm right by my head, I get an intoxicating whiff of the bergamot cologne he always wears, which only lightly masks the heady musk of him. I covertly breathe him in, losing myself in his scent, the proximity, the safety of it all.

When I open my eyes, we’re barreling down an empty ribbon of road, vegetation flashing past my peripheral.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I tell him, worrying at the hem of my dress.

Kit slams down hard on the brakes, nearly making me face-plant into the glove compartment. My seat belt strains against my chest, squishing my boobs, and I recoil from the momentum.

He fully twists toward me, glaring. “What are you talking about?”

“Us. Being alone. In a hotel room together.”

The truth is the only place I’d feel comfortable right now is in that goddamn hotel room.

“Are you afraid of me?” Kit asks, pained.

“No. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me. It’s just—”

I’ve never been in a room alone with you.

Seeing that this is apparently argument-worthy, Kit pulls to the side of the road, puts the car in park, and flips his hazards on. “You’re out of school, right?”

“My finals ended a month ago,” I admit, turtling in on myself.

“I just want to get you somewhere safe, okay? If you’re worried about missing work, tell them something came up—which it did—and that you need time off to be with family.”

I’m not worried about my job as a teaching assistant. I’m worried about having to confront my very real, very terrifying feelings for Kit. The good thing about Kit living all the way on the other side of the country is that I don’t feel inclined to give in to my temptations. But right here, right now, I want to give in so badly, even after the night I’ve had. All I can think about is lying in bed with him and having him hold me until I fall asleep.

The look on Kit’s distractingly chiseled face would be butterfly inducing if it weren’t for the hard lines marring his features. “I promised your brother I’d look after you.”

I cross my arms over my chest, doing my best to look sure of myself. “I can look after myself.”

“Clearly, you can’t.”

I wince like he’d just physically burned me. Honestly, that would probably be less painful than whatever heart-squeezing sensation is erupting behind the cage of my ribs.

Kit registers what he said a second too late, regret immediately shadowing his eyes. “Fuck, Faye. I didn’t mean that.”

Tears sear the backs of my eyes, and I swallow down the vomit threatening to spray the floor of Kit’s car. “No, you did. You’re right. I need to handle this. I’m not your problem.” I unbuckle my seat belt and reach for the door handle, but the little lock above it clicks down.

Kit knocks his head back against the headrest. “I didn’t…there’s…this is all a lot to process,” he confesses. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.”

All I do is nod, because now my mind is channel-surfing back to three hours ago when I thought I’d end the night with a kiss goodbye. The buzz from both the alcohol and adrenaline are starting to wear off, meaning I’ll have to consciously try to weather this torrential storm.

I don’t know what to say. I’m paralyzed again.

I suddenly feel Kit’s hand squeeze my palm, and it jolts me back to the present. The warmth of the gesture brings a comfort I haven’t known until now, not even when I’ve searched for it in other people.

“Look, Faye, when you called me…I’ve never been so afraid in my entire life. I was worried something bad had happened to you, and I was right. I need to know I’m keeping you safe, otherwise I’m going to lose my mind.” There’s a brokenness to his words that impales that failing organ in my chest.

Lose his mind? Does he really feel that way?

His fingers tighten around mine, almost painful enough for me to acknowledge it.

“If I go with you, you have to promise not to tell Hayes,” I murmur ashamedly, and I know I’m in no position to negotiate, but I refuse to burden my brother with all this drama.

“You’re seriously asking me to keep this big of a secret from your brother, who’s one of my best friends, and who I also happen to live with?” His barb, sharp and stinging, clings to my side and burrows into flesh and muscle.

He’s right: keeping a secret this catastrophic from my hotheaded brother isn’t going to end well. But the alternative is possibly seeing my brother in handcuffs as he’s being taken away for aggravated battery.

I’ll get on my knees and beg this man if I have to. “Please, Kit. He never has to find out about this. He’ll kill that guy on some crazy vengeance trip.”

“You’re lucky I’m not going to kill that guy,” Kit growls.

Oh, I am. Hayes might have enough rage to fuel a small village, but Kit beats his already impressive strength with a six-foot-five body of pure muscle.

“I appreciate it, I do. And now I’m just asking you to keep a teensy, tiny secret.”

Kit sucks his teeth. “I’ll contemplate it if you at least let me get you under a roof. You’re half-soaked. The hotel is only ten minutes away.”

I have a feeling that’s the closest to an agreement I’m going to get from Kit, and considering he has the resolve and patience of a grizzly bear, I’m not looking to argue with him for the rest of the night.

“Okay,” I acquiesce. “But you have to promise to think about it.”

Kit holds his pinky out to me. “I promise.”

I hesitantly hook my pinky with his, letting myself get lost in the wilderness of his umber eyes. There’s warmth nestled in the inner rings, but with it comes a dash of concern.

Fuck, Faye! This could’ve all been avoided if you just focused on yourself, your career. If you stopped chasing after guys to fill that hole in your heart.

I pull back, severing our arrangement. “I should’ve done something.”

“Stop,” Kit snarls, the intensity behind the command alone shaking me to the core. “This is not your fault. You need to understand that.”

Kit leans over the center console and hooks his forefinger under my chin, his thumb tracing the edge of my jawline. “This is his fault, okay? This is all on him. He took advantage of you. This small-dicked asshole took your freedom, your choice, and he’ll be paying for every second of it for the rest of his miserable life.”

“Why do you care so much?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

The first smile of the night surfaces over his extremely kissable lips. Extremely kissable, and extremely dangerous.

“Because we’re friends.”

Friends? I’ve never hated one word so much in my entire life.