Play with Me
Page 25
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When the song ends, another begins, and I cringe. It’s Lonely Soul by Nash.
As in Leo Nash.
As in, my Leo.
He and I wrote this song together right before he left for LA. Leo had been over at my place, hanging out with me and listening to me bitch about school and this guy that I went out with twice and never called me again after I slept with him.
Hence, the three date rule.
I could tell that he wanted to track the idiot down and pummel him, but he listened and drank beer with me, made me laugh. It wasn’t like I was crying over the asshole, but venting to the only brother I’d ever known helped to put things in perspective. And he gave me the best advice he’d ever given me that night.
“Meg-pie,” he said seriously, “we teach people how to treat us. If you don’t put up with shit, and don’t settle for anything less than respect, that’s what you’ll get. But if you let the douchebags walk all over you and treat you like you’re disposable, then that’s what you’ll always get. You’re too good for that.”
I miss him.
“I love this song!” Sam exclaims and sings along loudly.
“This is a great band,” Jules agrees and winks at me.
I just shrug back at her and sing along in my head.
It really is a great song.
* * *
“Tell me about Sylvia.”
Will and I are back in his car, heading to his house, and the nerves have kicked in. This is it. Tonight is the night.
I really, really wish I’d had something to drink.
“Sylvia doesn’t matter.”
“She’s your mother.”
“Trust me, genetics doesn’t make someone a mother.”
“Tell me.” He looks over at me, his face unreadable and I sigh.
“Why?”
“Because we have to talk about something or I’ll pull this car over and take you on the hood. And the date isn’t technically over until I get you inside the house. So talk.”
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “But can we do the fucking on the hood thing sometime soon?”
He glares at me and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. He’s not touching me.
“Yes. Talk.”
“I was taken away from her when I was twelve.”
“Why?” he asks, deceptively softly.
“Because she sucked as a parent. Drugs. A revolving door of men.”
“Did any of them…?” he can’t finish the sentence.
“No. She made me go in my room and lock the door when the men were around. Mostly she just neglected me. Forgot to buy food, forgot to send me to school. Eventually a teacher took interest and I was taken away.”
“What happened then?”
“I got shuffled around. Ten foster homes in four years.”
“And then you found a family to stay with until you turned eighteen?” he asks.
“No, then I got cut loose. The system couldn’t afford me anymore.”
“You were on your own at sixteen years old?” he asks, shocked and angry.
“I had Leo. He had already come to Seattle to go to school, so I followed him and stayed with him. He made me get a job, finish school, enroll in college. He’s really like a brother to me.”
“How did you meet him?” Will’s voice is softer, but he still doesn’t sound happy.
“The first foster home. He was there too. We had music in common. He taught me to play the guitar, and he had a job, so he got me a cell phone so I could stay in contact with him.”
“I’m glad you had him,” he mutters. “Why do you even still talk to your mother?”
“I send her money every month.” Damn it. I hadn’t meant to say that.
“What?!” Now he’s really, really angry. “Why the fuck do you send her money?”
“Because I feel guilty.” I look down at my hands and feel ashamed. “Because she would probably starve without it.”
“She would have let you starve, Megan.”
“I don’t need the money. She does.” I shrug. “And if I send her money and keep her in Montana, maybe she won’t ever come here to ask me for anything.”
The last part is a whisper. I’ve never told anyone this before. Not ever.
We pull into Will’s drive.
“What’s the code?” he asks me with a smile.
“051877,” I respond and he nods happily, inputs the code and drives us to the house and into the garage.
We climb out of the car and he leads me into the house. The garage enters into a mud room, and then into a gorgeous kitchen. It’s open to a dining space and family living area, with floor-to-ceiling windows covering one whole wall, showing off the Sound.
“I really love this space,” I murmur and walk over to the windows, taking in the view. It’s dark out. Lights twinkle from homes and businesses on the island across the water.
“I really love having you in this space.”
Will’s voice is soft. He’s standing a few feet behind me. I see his reflection in the dark window. His hands are in fists at his sides, and he’s breathing quickly.
His eyes are running up and down my back. I slip the shrug off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. The red sundress has spaghetti straps and flows down around my hips to my mid-thigh. His gaze meets mine in the glass and then he closes his eyes tightly and exhales roughly.
“Will?” I ask as I turn around to look at him. God, he’s so gorgeous. He’s wearing a gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He’s in black jeans, and he already took his shoes off, so he’s just in black socks.
As in Leo Nash.
As in, my Leo.
He and I wrote this song together right before he left for LA. Leo had been over at my place, hanging out with me and listening to me bitch about school and this guy that I went out with twice and never called me again after I slept with him.
Hence, the three date rule.
I could tell that he wanted to track the idiot down and pummel him, but he listened and drank beer with me, made me laugh. It wasn’t like I was crying over the asshole, but venting to the only brother I’d ever known helped to put things in perspective. And he gave me the best advice he’d ever given me that night.
“Meg-pie,” he said seriously, “we teach people how to treat us. If you don’t put up with shit, and don’t settle for anything less than respect, that’s what you’ll get. But if you let the douchebags walk all over you and treat you like you’re disposable, then that’s what you’ll always get. You’re too good for that.”
I miss him.
“I love this song!” Sam exclaims and sings along loudly.
“This is a great band,” Jules agrees and winks at me.
I just shrug back at her and sing along in my head.
It really is a great song.
* * *
“Tell me about Sylvia.”
Will and I are back in his car, heading to his house, and the nerves have kicked in. This is it. Tonight is the night.
I really, really wish I’d had something to drink.
“Sylvia doesn’t matter.”
“She’s your mother.”
“Trust me, genetics doesn’t make someone a mother.”
“Tell me.” He looks over at me, his face unreadable and I sigh.
“Why?”
“Because we have to talk about something or I’ll pull this car over and take you on the hood. And the date isn’t technically over until I get you inside the house. So talk.”
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “But can we do the fucking on the hood thing sometime soon?”
He glares at me and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. He’s not touching me.
“Yes. Talk.”
“I was taken away from her when I was twelve.”
“Why?” he asks, deceptively softly.
“Because she sucked as a parent. Drugs. A revolving door of men.”
“Did any of them…?” he can’t finish the sentence.
“No. She made me go in my room and lock the door when the men were around. Mostly she just neglected me. Forgot to buy food, forgot to send me to school. Eventually a teacher took interest and I was taken away.”
“What happened then?”
“I got shuffled around. Ten foster homes in four years.”
“And then you found a family to stay with until you turned eighteen?” he asks.
“No, then I got cut loose. The system couldn’t afford me anymore.”
“You were on your own at sixteen years old?” he asks, shocked and angry.
“I had Leo. He had already come to Seattle to go to school, so I followed him and stayed with him. He made me get a job, finish school, enroll in college. He’s really like a brother to me.”
“How did you meet him?” Will’s voice is softer, but he still doesn’t sound happy.
“The first foster home. He was there too. We had music in common. He taught me to play the guitar, and he had a job, so he got me a cell phone so I could stay in contact with him.”
“I’m glad you had him,” he mutters. “Why do you even still talk to your mother?”
“I send her money every month.” Damn it. I hadn’t meant to say that.
“What?!” Now he’s really, really angry. “Why the fuck do you send her money?”
“Because I feel guilty.” I look down at my hands and feel ashamed. “Because she would probably starve without it.”
“She would have let you starve, Megan.”
“I don’t need the money. She does.” I shrug. “And if I send her money and keep her in Montana, maybe she won’t ever come here to ask me for anything.”
The last part is a whisper. I’ve never told anyone this before. Not ever.
We pull into Will’s drive.
“What’s the code?” he asks me with a smile.
“051877,” I respond and he nods happily, inputs the code and drives us to the house and into the garage.
We climb out of the car and he leads me into the house. The garage enters into a mud room, and then into a gorgeous kitchen. It’s open to a dining space and family living area, with floor-to-ceiling windows covering one whole wall, showing off the Sound.
“I really love this space,” I murmur and walk over to the windows, taking in the view. It’s dark out. Lights twinkle from homes and businesses on the island across the water.
“I really love having you in this space.”
Will’s voice is soft. He’s standing a few feet behind me. I see his reflection in the dark window. His hands are in fists at his sides, and he’s breathing quickly.
His eyes are running up and down my back. I slip the shrug off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. The red sundress has spaghetti straps and flows down around my hips to my mid-thigh. His gaze meets mine in the glass and then he closes his eyes tightly and exhales roughly.
“Will?” I ask as I turn around to look at him. God, he’s so gorgeous. He’s wearing a gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He’s in black jeans, and he already took his shoes off, so he’s just in black socks.
