Remember Me This Way Page 13

  It seems like it takes an hour for an ambulance to arrive, just because of how far out Tanner's house is from everything. I wonder what his parents will do when they hear he had to go to the hospital. Will they come back? Would that just make everything worse? I know Jesse did the right thing by calling for help. A blackout with throwing up we could handle, but seizures denoted something totally different.

  I had seen enough overdoses with Terry to know that they usually signaled drugs. And even though it was selfish in a time like this, I was a little heartbroken that Tanner had broken his promise to me.

  As was my way, I started to blame myself, thinking that I had driven him over the edge by getting mad at him. I push those thoughts away, though, as I often had to do. This was no one's fault but Tanner's.

  I was the only one who hadn't been drinking, so I drive the guys as we follow the ambulance. It’s a terrifying ride. I have very little experience actually driving even though I’ve had my license for awhile-just because I've never had a car. Terry and David usually didn’t have a car either since every time they got one, they would end up selling it to supply their drug habit.

  I feel like I’ve lived five lives by the time we get to the hospital, and I’m shaking from the adrenaline rush. Driving really isn’t that hard, but it started raining during the drive, and I’d barely been able to see the lines in the road.

  Tanner is taken immediately inside, but I'd seen him open his eyes as he was wheeled away, and I was hopeful that was a good sign. We sit in the waiting room after that. Well I sit, Jensen is stalking the front desk, barking at the nurse for updates. Jesse is leaning against the wall, his face in one of his hands.

  "Do you think his parents will come?" I ask softly.

  Jesse looks at me. "I sure as hell hope not," he says bitterly. "If I see them, I don't know what I'll do."

  Two hours pass, and people who were at the party file in and out of the waiting room, which impresses me considering how drunk everyone had been when we left. I realize that we basically left Tanner's mansion filled with drunk high school students. Hopefully, it’s still standing.

  "Do you think we need to go back to the house and kick everyone out?" I ask.

  Jensen shakes his head. "Tanner's family has a house manager. I texted him to kick everyone out and close up shop."

  "House manager… hmmm," I say out loud, trying to picture needing one of those. A small smile cracks on Jesse's face. It’s the only time that any of us have smiled since arriving.

  Just then, a kind looking older man dressed in a white coat comes through the doors into the waiting room. He looks at his clipboard. “Jesse Carroway, Jensen Reid, Ariana Kent?" he calls out, looking around the actually quite crowded waiting room.

  I stand up quickly, and Jensen and Jesse stalk over. The doctor looks at Jensen and Jesse a little nervously. Jesse still looks a bit drunk, and Jensen just looks pissed, and a little menacing, if I’m being honest. "I'm Dr. Madison. I've been taking care of Tanner this evening."

  "How is he?" I squeak before the doctor can say another word. The doctor smiles gently.

  "Mr. Crosby is very lucky. He had a life-threatening amount of cocaine in his blood. Mixed with alcohol, his body couldn't take it. We have him on an IV, and we expect him to make a full recovery, but it would appear to me that Mr. Crosby needs some help.” He eyes the three of us. Jesse and Jensen don’t exactly look like poster boys of healthy living with their tattoos, piercings, and leather jackets.

  "Thank you Doctor. Are we allowed to see him?" I ask.

  He nods. "I'll take you to him.”

  As we walk behind the doctor, I lean over to Jesse and whisper, "Shouldn't the police have been called if Tanner was found with illegal drugs?" I ask. Jesse rolls his eyes. "I'm sure Leonard made a sizable donation in the family's name to convince them otherwise."

  "Leonard?" I ask.

  "The house manager," Jesse clarifies.

  All of my questions about Tanner's house manager disappear as we walk into the room. Tanner looks like he’s sleeping. He’s pale with dark shadows under his eyes, but he’s still one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

  I rush over to the bed and take his hand. "You stupid idiot, you could've died," I murmur sadly, thinking he’s asleep and can’t hear me.

  His eyes crack open. "I didn’t take any drugs tonight, Ari. You have to believe me," he says in a raspy voice.

  I’m conflicted. I was well aware of the fact that addicts lie. Terry had been lying to me for so long that I stopped believing anything that came out of her mouth. But this was Tanner. Even though I was mad at him right now, I still felt like I knew him. I could see the dark ugly parts of him, and they called to me because I had them too. Tanner was a lot of things, but I hadn't ever felt that one of those things was a liar.

  "Do you know how they got into your system?" I ask hesitantly. He looks hopeful at the fact that I’m not immediately rejecting what he said. But that hope quickly turns into frustration. "I have no idea. Last I remember, I was playing beer pong… And then I don't really remember anything after that," he says, clenching his jaw.

  I know why he just made that face. It was because he remembered that Reagan had been there.

  Wait… Just then, I remember her face when Tanner had been seizing up on the floor. It was devastated looking… but it also looked almost guilty.

  But that was crazy, right? There's no way that she did something like that.

  I can’t help but think about how desperate she had been acting lately once Tanner started hanging out with me. She hadn't been able to keep any of her nasty comments to herself...which meant that she had been completely blacklisted from Tanner's life.

  Yes, all three of the guys were sexy as hell. And in fact I was attracted to all of them the same, which was weird considering how different they all were. But there was just something about Tanner that called to women. Whether it was the flashing silver eyes, or the sexily mussed up black hair that evoked images of a romp between the sheets, or the face that could make angels weep… Women wanted him. Or maybe it was the brokenness inside of him that called to them.

  Whatever it was, every girl we were around wanted to be the one to fix Tanner Crosby.

  Little did they know that some people were just unfixable.

  "I don't have an explanation, Ari. But I'm asking you to believe me. I fucked things up enough tonight without you thinking that I was snorting lines with a girl I used to hook up with," he says, staring at me pleadingly. He has an iron grip on my hand, and I doubt that I could pull away, even if I wanted to. I realize that he’s frightened of what I’m going to do. And it feels strange to realize that he truly cares what I think in this moment and if it means that I will leave him.

  I still wasn't used to that, someone actually caring.

  Jesse kicks off from where he leaned against the wall. "Why were you even hanging with that bitch in the first place, Tanner?” he asks, the infliction in his voice letting us all know that he thought Tanner had acted like an idiot.

  "I wasn't ‘hanging’ with her," he says petulantly. “She had the table already set up when I came inside and Dorian needed a partner to play. All I wanted to do was get fucked up enough to forget what I had just done," he tells him, shooting me a look again.

  "Wait, so Reagan does drugs?" I ask, still unable to get that niggling feeling out of my brain that she was somehow involved in this if Tanner was telling the truth.

  Jensen snorts. "Does Reagan do drugs? That's hilarious. How do you think Tanner started hooking up with her in the first place? It wasn't because of her sparkling personality. It was because she always had coke and always had her legs spread."

  I flinch at that. We hadn’t even come close to sex, and the fact that the guys always stopped before we got too far made me a little bit self-conscious, considering I knew they weren't saints before they met me.

  Jesse punches Jensen in the arm, and Jensen looks chagrined. Tonight was just a disaster on
all fronts.

  "Did they call your parents?" Jesse asks Tanner hesitantly.

  Tanner gets stiff at that question. "I'm sure they did, but they're not going to turn their jet around when they just got to good to old London to come check up on their son. Not that I'd want them to in the first place," he adds, a haunted look on his face. "I'm sure there will be hell to pay from my dad though," he says, and we all grow quiet after that.

  I was pretty sure that his dad was responsible for the injuries I had seen when we had gotten tattoos, and I still wasn't sure what to do about it, or if the other two knew. Somehow it felt like this thing we weren't supposed to talk about.

  Tanner looks at me. "I know I don't deserve it, but will you stay?” he asks. And I know he's not just asking if I'll stay at the hospital with him until he gets out. He’s asking if I'll stay with him in general.

  And I don't know what it says about me that my answer will always be yes.

  ...

  We get out of the hospital the next day. Jesse and Jensen both left to get changed at some point, and I was exhausted, since I only got in a couple of hours of fitful sleep in the armchair next to Tanner's hospital bed. I’m surprised that they’re letting him go already, but evidently, with how much hush money his family had given the hospital to prevent Tanner from getting in trouble, Tanner could basically do whatever he wanted as far as medical decisions went.

  He was in bad shape, though. The combination of the hangover and coming down from the drugs had him miserable. He sat in Jensen's Escalade, his face in his hands. I was pretty sure that I heard a few moans coming out of him as we drove. Jensen drove us all to Tanner's house. I was surprised to see that Reagan was sitting on the front porch.

  When we get out of the car, she flings herself at Tanner, almost knocking him over.

  "What the hell, Reagan?" he tells her, pushing her off.

  "I was so worried about you," she says, tears building in her eyes. "I didn't mean… I mean it was so bad."

  Jensen grabs her arm, surprising me with the vehemence on his face. "Did you have something to do with this?" he asks, giving her a little shake. Jesse's quietly watching, and I can tell he's prepared to step in if Jensen goes too far, not that I think Jensen ever would. He’s not the type to beat up girls.

  Reagan looks at the three of us, and then seems to realize she can’t get out of this because her face scrunches up, and then she tries to lunge at me. When she’s not able to get anywhere because of Jensen’s grip on her arm, she begins to cry.

  It all comes rushing out, how she put drugs in his drink, and they ended up being from a bad supplier. She had just wanted to loosen him up so that he would pay attention to her.

  “I love you,” she begins screaming at a haunted looking Tanner as Jensen drags her to his car and throws her in the backseat.

  Jesse pulls out his phone and calls someone. “We have a situation,” he says, and then he hangs up.

  A few minutes later a distinguished gentleman comes out of Tanner’s house, and Jensen hands him his keys. “Take her home and make sure her parents find the cocaine in her pocket,” Jensen tells him.

  “Of course,” the man says before getting in the car and driving away. I shiver a bit at seeing Reagan staring out the window at us, tears streaming down her face.

  “Who was that?” I finally ask, once I get over the shock of what just happened.

  “Leonard,” Tanner says simply, and the guys all start to walk inside. I stare after them, thinking hard about what I should do.

  For the first time since meeting them, I’m not sure that I want to follow them.

  18

  Now

  Jesse

  I hang on her doorframe, watching as she packs. Well, attempts to pack. Now that her album is done, we’re all about to go on tour. Except, she will be leaving on her own small tour as an opener for Red Daydreams until she meets back up with us in a few weeks. It will be the first time that we’ve been apart, and I’m trying not to think about it.

  She’s also dancing to Drake’s “God’s Plan” as she’s packing right now, making me a little bit horny and delaying said packing.

  Not that I mind. Anything that delays her from leaving me sounds like a good idea. Just the thought of her being out of my presence makes my skin itch. I push that thought out of my head. I’ve had this argument with her a million times, and at this point, I’m just starting to sound unsupportive.

  I cross my arms and watch the show as it moves into “7 Rings”.

  “Nice moves, pretty girl,” I murmur when she turns, and her perfect tits bounce through the dance. This is good shit. Her head snaps up, and she stumbles to the nightstand to switch off her phone.

  “Don’t stop on my account. That was better than a lap dance.”

  “Your ridiculous,” she mutters, grabbing a pillow from her bed and hugging it to her torso.

  My grin grows. “I’ve seen those pretty breasts before. You think hiding them from me will dissuade my imagination?”

  Her gaze narrows in on mine, but then it flicks down to my abs and lowers to the bulge that’s growing in my pants. No shower in the world could kill that boner.

  She closes her eyes, but her accelerated breath moves the pillow up and down. Good. I like the direction she’s headed.

  “Jesse?”

  “Ari?”

  “How long…” She bites her bottom lip, seeming to lose her train of thought as I stalk towards her. “You’re so annoying,” she finally says lamely.

  “Like so annoying, you could tie me up? Because I might like that with you. Or we can role play? I’ve got this fantasy.”

  Her mouth falls open, and then she swings the pillow and clocks me on the ear, a sneak attack that takes me off-guard. I don’t know if I should be pissed at the assault or thrilled as my predatory nature wakes from sleep. The second hit lands on my hip. I snarl and size up my prey, thinking it’s time to steal her weapon. She pants, and the tits I dream about nightly heave, drawing my attention to the way they’re straining against the fabric of her shirt.

  I stalk toward her. “You sure about this?”

  “I’ve got a good arm, Popeye. You scared?”

  I stop and glare at her. “What did you call me?”

  She laughs and chucks a pillow at my head. “Popeye the sailor man . . .” she croons.

  Oh, fuck no. I advance. She retreats—singing.

  She’s so fucking hot. Toned muscles, tanned skin, curves in every damn right place. And it hits me like a ton of feather pillows for the millionth time.

  I’m so in love with Ariana Kent.

  The desperate ache in my cock is a pressing issue since she’s come back into my life, but so is hearing her laugh and seeing her teasing smile every day. I want her voice to fill these walls until they crumble, even when the song is about me eating my spinach. This has moved beyond possession and into a dark cavern I have yet to explore.

  By the heavy lurch of my heart, I know that I’m scared of how much I need her. And it scares me that I don’t think she needs me in the same way.

  The thought unleashes a primal instinct to claim her, take her, make it so no other man but the three of us will ever have her again. But first, I’m going to wipe that grin off her face and make her scream. I pick up a pillow off her bed and advance.

  My initial pillow strike misses as she lobs to the left. The second hits her square over the head. Her eyes flare and then narrow, and I can tell the minute tactical thought gives way to a frantic need to conquer her target. She misses a lyric and attacks in reckless swings.

  I’m trained in the art of all things Ariana, though, and in a minute, I chase her over the bed and to the other side of the room with quick snaps to the backs of her thighs and a crack to her ass. She twirls with indignation, gripping her backside, and I drop my weapon.

  With one arm around her waist, the other on her nape, I haul her against my chest and slam my mouth on hers. Sweet Hell, she kisses me without hesitation, s
ucking my tongue into her mouth on a groan. We go deep, long open licks I use to punish her for singing that fucking song. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to pin her against the wall, peel off her shorts, and fuck her into an apology.

  I’ll save that for later.

  I tap her ass and help to wrap her legs around my waist, and it’s the best, most natural place for her to be. When she wiggles into position, she slides down against my straining dick, and I struggle not to embarrass myself. I moan and tug her hair, peeling her away to find her flushed skin, watching her lowered lids flutter against her cheeks as I rub myself against her through the fine layers of cotton.

  “Jesse?” Her voice is as erratic as the pulse pounding in her neck, and full of vulnerability, uncertainty, and dammit, I hate that she’s leaving us after how shitty everything has been.

  I press my mouth to her forehead and back us up to the plush chair in her room, keeping her legs on either side of my hips as we sit. “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’ve got you. I will always have you.”

  She pulls back with my face cradled in her hands, her brow pulled in a deep V. “Why are you stopping?”

  “I’m not stopping. I’m just slowing us down.”

  Her chest hitches, but before I can tell if she’s crying, she buries her nose in my neck and plasters herself impossibly close to me. I feel everything. Every part of her, the tight peak of her nipples, the soft swell of her swollen breasts, and the fierce grip of her arms around my neck as if the thought of being apart is as disturbing to her as it is to me.

  But I just hold her and let our pulses slow into the same pattern while dragging my fingers up and down her spine.

  “Jesse?”

  “Yes?” I ask, watching her bring her gaze back to mine.

  “I’m scared we won’t be able to handle this.”