What Comes Next Read online

“From what?”

  I grinned at her hands on hips pose. “From yourself? From whatever-his-name-is? Take your pick.”

  “I didn’t need to be saved, Ben.”

  A snorting sound shot out of my mouth, and I turned to take a few steps toward the tree house ladder. She still hadn’t noticed it. For some reason, that pissed me off, and I turned on her as she came up behind me.

  “It was stupid, Ana!” She stopped short, and took a step away from me. “You’re not that girl. You’re not stupid. But what you did? That was stupid.”

  “Having fun with my friends was stupid?” she returned. “Is it that impossible for you to believe that I can make friends?”

  “That’s not—” My fingers raked through my hair again, and I knew it had to be sticking up all over the place by now. “You have no idea what that boy was up to. You were too concerned with trying to make me jealous to notice.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Ben.” She pushed past me, bypassing the tree and the ladder, before stopping. Her finger jabbed in my face. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been taking care of myself, and Jeffrey, my entire life. I don’t need you to swoop in like some overbearing big brother every time you think—”

  I lost it when the words “big brother” passed her lips. I didn’t think; I reacted. Her back was to the tree, and I had her pushed against it in a blink.

  “Would a big brother do this?” I taunted.

  “What—” Her eyes widened when they darted to mine. “What are you doing?”

  I caged her in with my arms on each side of her, and pressed closer. I was angry, but not so angry that I didn’t notice her much more delicate body against mine. I was angry enough to at least pretend to not notice it.

  “Stop.” Her palms pushed against my chest, but I didn’t budge. “Ben, let me go.”

  “Make me.”

  She pushed harder, and still I didn’t waver.

  “Come on, Ana,” I goaded. “Do your best to make me move.”

  Her palms turned to fists, but with the small space she had to work with, they felt like mosquito bites. I let her pathetic attack go on for a few moments before I snatched her wrists and pinned her arms to her sides. Unable to move, she groaned in frustration before lifting her eyes to mine in defeat.

  I’d expected her to give up eventually. I’d expected that I would succeed in making my point. I’d done this for a reason—even if it had been spontaneous. What I hadn’t anticipated was my reaction.

  I managed to overlook it until her eyes met mine. Then I realized the mere inches between us weren’t enough. I was in the situation I had tried to avoid since the last time I’d been in this situation.

  I was vaguely aware of the distance between us melting away by the second, of her labored breaths on my neck, of her motionless body against mine. But what I noticed above everything else was the glimmer of lust staring back at me.

  I tore away from her with a strangled groan and paced toward the edge of the creek before I was confident I had put a safe distance between us. Turning to face her, I said, “You couldn’t move me, Ana. The difference between me and any other guy is that I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s what this was all about? You were trying to prove something just now?”

  “That there may be times that you can’t take care of yourself? Yes, and I’m pretty sure I proved that, Ana.”

  She stalked toward me. I was tempted to step backwards, but I couldn’t. Not unless I wanted to take a swim in the creek. Then again, a splash into some cold water sounded like a good idea right about now. My stubbornness and a whole lot of stupidity kept my feet planted to the ground. Her finger jabbed into my chest hard enough to leave a bruise, but I didn’t let her see that it kind of hurt.

  “I don’t need your help.” Jab. “I don’t want your help.” Jab, jab. “You can take your little lesson and shove it up your ass.”

  I snatched her hand before she landed another jab. “You can be as mad as you want to be at me, Ana. I don’t care as long as you remember what I just showed you.”

  She turned away with a huff. “You didn’t show me shit, Ben.”

  I darted in front of her in three strides. “He was taking you to the bluffs, wasn’t he? You know what happens at the bluffs?”

  I already knew she didn’t have a clue, and from her wide-eyed stare, I gathered she’d just guessed.

  “He would have had you alone,” I added.

  She stared at me for a beat before saying, “Maybe I wanted to be alone with him.”

  “If you did”—I dropped my head to within inches of hers—“you wouldn’t have been watching me all night.”

  “Hard not to with all the vultures circling you,” she fired back.

  “Ah,” I laughed. “I get it. You were jealous.”

  “Far from it,” she huffed, turning to make a hasty retreat. Over her shoulder, she tossed, “More like disgusted.”

  I watched her walk away until the darkness swallowed her up. Even then I caught glimpses of her white shirt when the moonlight bounced off of it. I saw enough to realize she hadn’t marched off far, and that she wasn’t moving away so much as up.

  She was climbing the ladder to the treehouse.

  She remembered.

  I wiped the stupid smile off my face before following her. By the time I started up, she had made it nearly to the top. She glanced down, and her foot nearly slipped off the rung—a reminder that she wasn’t sober enough to go home yet. Then again, I didn’t know why I thought she could manage getting up the ladder in her condition.

  I breathed a sigh of relief once she crawled over the lip to safety. She was still standing there, barely a step inside the enclosed structure, when I hoisted myself up beside her a moment later.

  I recognized the look in her hooded eyes as she surveyed the small room. One summer, Mitch and I had managed to get a small wooden table and some chairs in here. We’d outgrown the child-sized furniture years ago, but they were still there. Added character, I thought. Same with the assortment of rugs we’d swiped from Mama and a few of the neighbors’ porches. None of them matched, but it provided a soft place to sit, since the chairs weren’t usable for anyone under the age of twelve. The dirty magazines were still hidden under the loose floorboard by my feet, but I wasn’t about to tell Ana that.

  “I still come here sometimes when I need to escape,” I admitted.

  She looked around, taking in the square structure illuminated by the moonlight. “It’s exactly like I remember.”

  “You remembered what it looked like?”

  She looked at me like my question was absurd. “Of course I remembered.”

  “So I guess that means you remembered me.”

  “I already told you that I did.”

  “Right.” I turned to close the already narrow space between us. “You just weren’t prepared for me to be grown up.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Her eyes darted to mine when my arm brushed against hers. I was reeled in by the fruity scent of her hair mixed with something else that was just . . . Ana. Soft and sweet Ana, who had swept into my life like a hurricane, tearing down walls, washing away the filth, and leaving only the good behind in the aftermath.

  “I never expected you either,” I admitted softly. Another few inches, and my lips would be on hers. Exactly where I wanted them, and where I suspected she would welcome them.

  I couldn’t. Not now. I’d told myself I wouldn’t kiss her again when she was vulnerable. Falling-over-drunk was pretty high up on the list of vulnerable states in my book.

  “Ben?” The disappointment audible in her voice nearly broke me.

  “I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk, Ana,” I told her honestly. “I don’t want to kiss you again when you’re vulnerable. When I kiss you again, it’s going to be for a good reason, at a happy time, and you’re going to remember every second of it, and feel every touch.”


  “You’re going to kiss me again?”

  I inched as close to her mouth as I dared. My lips brushed against hers, but I didn’t kiss her. Not yet. Not now. No matter how badly I wanted to.

  “Yes, Ana, I am going to kiss you again.” Her chin lifted in invitation. I somehow managed to avoid full contact with her mouth and gritted out, “Not now.”

  Her feet carried her two steps backward before she stopped to glare up at me. “Is there something wrong with me, or something?”

  “What?” There wasn’t a doubt how ridiculous I considered her question to be, but she looked at me expectantly, waiting for my answer. “Of course there’s nothing wrong with you, Ana.”

  “Then what is it? Why don’t you—” She cut herself off with a shake of her head. “You know what? Forget it. I know I’m no Tracy Ryder. I’m not like half of the girls at school all the guys are interested in.”

  She dropped to the floor like the weight of her preposterous statement was too much to carry. Her head braced against the wall behind her, and her eyes flicked up to mine briefly before settling on an invisible spot on the floor halfway between us.

  I didn’t know what to say to her . . . other than the truth. “You’re right.” I settled onto the floor, and leaned against the wall perpendicular to hers. “You’re nothing like the other girls.”

  “Honestly, Ben, I don’t want to—”

  “You’re better, Ana.” Her eyes shot up to mine, and I added, “Haven’t you considered the possibility that’s why I like you so much? You’re different. You challenge me, and not in some misconstrued conquest kind of way. You’re not afraid to tell me when I’m being an idiot. I can talk to you easier than I can talk to anyone, and I miss—”

  This time, I managed to cut myself off before I said something stupid. Too much alcohol tonight had given me a loose tongue. Not a good thing to have around this girl.

  “Miss what?” she pressed. Of course, she hadn’t overlooked my omission.

  My jaw worked side to side as I considered potential ways to end that sentence. Nothing I came up with would work . . . other than the truth. With a shrug that I hoped would downplay the whole thing, I said, “I miss . . . you . . . talking to you. I look forward to it, and . . .”

  Hearing the words out loud, I realized I should have just kept my mouth shut. Fortunately for me, Ana’s eyes were barely open slits as she struggled to stay awake. With any luck, she’d forget this conversation come morning.

  “You miss me?” she slurred with a lopsided smile.

  “Obviously, I’m not counting this conversation, or this entire evening, as one of our finer moments.”

  “I do,” she whispered as she slumped over. My hand shot out to catch her before she fell into the wall. Her quickly fading consciousness didn’t keep her from talking. “Even though you didn’t kiss me, I count tonight right up there with Richmond.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that?” I chuckled lightly as I eased her head onto the rug beside me.

  “Because you’re here.”

  Those three little words sent a jolt straight through the center of my chest. The ripple spread out, consuming me, and ultimately settled into a lump in my throat. Several moments passed by as I tossed her words around in my head, pondering the slew of possible meanings behind them. I finally settled on the conclusion that she was drunk, and she didn’t know what she was saying. Unfortunately, that realization didn’t slow the galloping of my heart as much as I would have liked.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep, and sober up,” I suggested in an effort to ignore the reaction I had to her words. “I’ll wake you in an hour or two to go home.”

  “Okay.”

  I smiled as she nestled into the rug with a content sigh. “Don’t ever change, Ana.”

  I got no response this time. Her breaths came deep and steady, and I knew she had finally fallen asleep. Probably for the best, considering I couldn’t seem to keep my emotions in check around her, and neither of us could keep our mouths shut around each other.

  “Ana!”

  I drifted to the surface, and groaned. The house was shaking . . . or I was shaking? The motion didn’t help my sour stomach. Oh, God . . . how much did I drink last night?

  “Ana, get up!” I rolled away from the obtrusive voice in my ear, but it followed me. “I fell asleep, Ana”—my shoulders were lifted off the floor and another shake rolled through me—“it’s almost morning. Get up!”

  My eyes snapped open. They focused on Ben’s face first, where he hovered above me, then shifted over his shoulder to observe the hint of light on the dark horizon.

  “Shit!” I bolted up, and immediately wished I hadn’t moved that fast. My hands flew to my head, and I pressed my fingers into my temples as if that could keep it from exploding. “I am so grounded.”

  Again.

  “Not if you can manage to sneak in.” Ben jumped to his feet, and offered me a hand to stand me up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, too.”

  “No, it’s my fault.” My eyes squeezed together as I fought the urge to hurl. “I shouldn’t have had so much to drink.”

  “Not going to argue with you on that one.”

  Ben pushed me in the direction of the ladder, and I opened my eyes to shoot him a dark look. The quip on my tongue dried when I saw the teasing grin on his face.

  “I’m dead,” I said. “I will never see the light of day after this, and you’re smiling?”

  With his hands on my shoulders, he turned me to face him. “Climb in through your bedroom window, get into bed like you’ve been there all night. If Marly stayed awake, waiting for you, and asks where you were, just tell her you must have missed each other when you came home. Maybe she fell asleep in the chair, and you didn’t want to disturb her . . .”

  “Wow. You do this a lot, don’t you?”

  “More than you need to know.” His grin grew as he pushed me toward the opening. “Go. Get home. It’ll be fine. If not, then I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

  I swung my legs over the ledge and climbed down a few rungs before I looked back up at Ben. “What about you? What are you going to do?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m toast. Mama’s already up. I might get away with pretending I left for work early . . .” I knew from the look on his face that he wasn’t confident that excuse would work.

  But then I remembered he would be showing up to work on the fence soon. Even if I was grounded, I could still enjoy the fact that Ben was there, working. Sometimes shirtless.

  Since when had I thought of him like that? I shook away the thoughts growing in my head when my feet hit the ground, and I turned and raced for home.

  The house was quiet and dark as I tiptoed around the corner of the barn. A quick glance at all the windows confirmed no scolding grandmother watching my shameful return in the wee hours of the morning. Taking a deep breath, I dashed across the opening.

  Instead of risking the door, I climbed onto the roof of the porch, and crossed my fingers that I had left my window unlocked. When it didn’t budge, I slapped the weathered ledge with a muttered curse.

  Glancing at the quickly lightening sky, I knew I needed to hurry. I’d have to take my chances with sneaking through the house, and hope Ma wasn’t already up preparing breakfast.

  Fortunately, my grandparents never locked the door. Unfortunately, the squeaky hinges had never been repaired. I held the door open just far enough for me to squeeze inside before pulling it shut behind me.

  Nothing moved in the kitchen, aside from my feet across the cool floor. I crept up the stairs slowly, carefully avoiding the creaky boards. Nothing stirred from Ma and Pop’s room as I tiptoed by their door. I quickly slipped inside my room, and closed the door softly before turning—

  I came up short when my gaze landed on Ma, where she sat quietly on the edge of my bed.

  “I got a call from Katherine Sawyer about thirty minutes ago,” she told me. “Ben didn’t come home last night, from what she
saw. Wanted to know if we’ve seen him yet this morning . . .”

  “Ma, I—”

  Her hand rose to silence me. Not that I had much to offer. I was busted. I knew that. But I didn’t want Ben to get dragged into it. No one needed to know we were together most of the night.

  “I’m not a silly old woman, Ana. I see what’s in front of me.” She sighed deeply, and the weight of it pressed down on my shoulders. “At first, I thought it was nothing but a continuation of the friendship you had as children.”

  “Ma, really, there isn’t—”

  “Ana.” Her eyes lifted to mine, and I felt miniscule under her soft gaze. I preferred to see anger. Instead all I saw was disappointment. That was much, much worse. “I’m not as naïve as you might believe me to be. You’re not kids anymore. I know there’s more going on there than you claim. My only question is, how much more, Ana?”

  “What?” My skin burned from the hidden accusation in her question. Surely she didn’t think . . . “Ma, nothing is going on between me and Ben. Nothing. We’re barely friends.”

  Ma stared at me for a long, uncomfortable time, as if she were seeking the truth in my eyes. I shifted my feet when I wondered what she would see. Sure, something had happened between Ben and me, but not that. After a tense moment, Ma pushed to a stand and strolled toward me.

  “I love Ben like a son,” she eventually said. “He and his family have always been good to us, but he . . . he’s been a handful for his mother, Ana. She may not be able to control his reckless behavior anymore, but I can control yours. I’m not sure spending time with him is a good thing for you. You have your brother to think about.”

  “What’s Jeffrey have to do with anything?”

  “Whether you realize it or not, he looks up to you,” Ma answered simply. “I expect you to set a good example for him.”

  I nodded my head solemnly when I realized she made a valid point. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ma paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Straight home after school for two weeks. No social engagements. You’ll be too busy with extra chores for anything else.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I muttered as the door closed behind her.