Between Hearts: A Romance Anthology Read online

  “Don’t be dramatic. They’ll be home in two weeks. Mom and I talked last night and she said she tried to call you.”

  She had tried to call me but I ignored it because I was Skyping with Mikey and we both had one hand in our pants at the time.

  I shrug and start to turn away. I’d really like her to leave me alone so I can drink this glass of wine and start some serious sulking.

  “Adam?”

  Oh, for fuck sake.

  “What?”

  “What happened to your hand?”

  Great. She noticed.

  “I punched…something.” I say, and quickly try to invent a lie. Nothing comes to mind, so I turn around and start for my room again. She calls after me again a few times, but I wave her off and head up the stairs.

  I don’t bother turning the light on in my room. Instead I set the wine glass down on the side table, along with my wallet and keys. I grab my iPod off its dock and start scrolling through my playlists. My thumb stops when it lands on Elliot Smith. Perfect. Perfectly depressing and perfect for my mood. The bed creaks when I land on it. I kick my shoes off, lean my head back on the headboard and grab the glass of wine. I lose myself in the music for a while. I don’t want to think anymore. I take a few sips before slamming the entire glass down because fuck it, why not? A few more songs play and my eyes are getting heavy. I roll onto my side and let myself drift away

  Chapter Ten

  Adam

  Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Something is buzzing and it takes my sleep and alcohol addled brain a few seconds to figure out what’s happening. Phone. Someone’s calling me. The buzzing stops and I roll around on the bed. For a few seconds I start to slip back into sleep…

  Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz.

  FUCK!

  My arm reaches out for the night table and knocks over the wine glass which thankfully is empty. I click on my phone and stare at the screen. Lydia is calling. I hit the ignore button and end my mom’s phone call. Then I go from groggy to angry in five seconds flat. Fuck her. I’m not answering her phone call which will amount to her asking me a few questions just to make sure I’m still alive, not on heroin, and not in jail. All just so she can ease her guilty conscience and continue globetrotting like she doesn’t have to be a mother anymore. That thought gets my heart revving and now I’m pissed at everyone, and I like it. Pissed off is one of my favorite emotions. It suits me. Being pissed off is better than being pissed on. I have control when I’m angry. Not my parents, not my anxiety, not Jamie.

  Jamie. As if on cue, my hand starts to throb. I check my phone and see a few more annoyed texts from Mikey. Then one from Jamie.

  Jamie: I’m sorry for the way that all went down. I know I fucked it up and I want to try to explain again. If you wanna be with Mikey I’ll support that. But you need to know everything I said tonight was true.

  With that I’m wide awake and my heart is thumping.

  “I would never lie to you, and I know you know that.”

  “I want to be your first kiss. Mikey shouldn’t have it, it should be mine."

  His words from earlier come slamming back into me and this time they don’t make me angry.

  I glance at my phone. 11:45. Jamie’s mom is at a Yoga retreat in San Diego all weekend. He’s probably just sitting at home with a sore jaw feeling like shit about tonight. He probably thinks I’m still with Mikey. The thought of him being even slightly heartbroken because of me is not only unbelievable, but also completely unbearable. I flip on the light and start looking for my keys.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jamie

  I don’t know what wakes me up. The sound of pouring rain or the sound of a car driving up the gravel road to my house. And I can’t decide which makes me happier. Rain is rare this time of year in Central California, and every time it happens I go outside and let it pour down on me like a baptism. Actually, I can decide. The other sound wins because I know it’s Adam. There’s no mistaking the way his car sounds coming up my drive. My happiness fades a bit when I remember that he just met up with Mikey. Why is he coming here now? To tell me they’re together? To tell me to back off? After what happened tonight I’ll do whatever he needs me to do. As much as it will suck for him to be with Mikey, I just want to keep our friendship intact.

  I jump out of bed and head outside in my bare feet, wearing nothing but a pair of thin PJ bottoms. I’m walking out the door just as Adam is getting out of his car. The rain starts to pelt against me right away, and Adam looks surprised to see me outside waiting for him. He’s wearing the same clothes he had on earlier for his date. His face is drawn, his lips a thin line. He’s pissed. He slams his door and comes walking straight over to me. Stopping a few feet away, he just stares at me. He’s looking at the side of my face where he hit me. A large purple bruise has already started to form. The rain is pouring now, drenching us both though neither of us attempt to go inside.

  “I’m sorry I was such a dick today. I shouldn’t have come at you like that, demanding things from you, asking you to admit things that weren’t true. I’m really sorry.”

  I have to yell my apology because the rain is getting louder and louder by the second and I need to make sure he can hear me. I’m not sure he does though because he’s still just standing there looking angry. I get no response whatsoever from him and it makes me crazy.

  “How was your date?” It’s none of my business and probably the last thing I should be asking about, but apparently I’ve turned into a selfish asshole in the last 24 hours and I need to know.

  Adam takes another step closer to me, and for a second I wonder if he’s about to hit me again.

  “I didn’t go! How could I go Jamie?” he shouts, confusion etched on his face.

  My heart momentarily lifts, and then quickly drops again when I realize what I’ve done. I’ve ruined his first date ever, and he’s probably about to tell me how much he hates me for it.

  Adam takes another step forward, closing in on my personal space. He brushes the rain off his face and moves towards me quickly, cupping my face with both hands. My breath catches as I feel the heat of his body near mine and his thumb gently strokes my cheek.

  “Your face,” he whispers, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.” Then he closes the remaining space between us and wraps his arms around me in an embrace that wakes up every single nerve cell in my tired and drenched body. I hold him tight and we stay like that. Holding each other in the rain. I rest my head on his shoulder and I feel his face tilt towards mine, his breath warm against my neck. Then it happens.

  Adam starts to kiss me.

  Short, sweet kisses along my neck. My body lights up. I lift my head and swallow hard. He licks my Adam’s apple and I hear myself gasp. Pulling away for a second, he looks up at me with those intense dark eyes. Raindrops sticking to his long dark lashes.

  His lips brush mine.

  Once.

  Twice.

  And then the third time, they go for broke as he latches onto my mouth with his, sliding his tongue inside and everything I thought I knew about kissing shatters into eight million pieces. My tongue meets his and we make out like the world is ending and the only thing that can save it is this kiss.

  The rain beats down on us, but it doesn’t matter. We just keep kissing and kissing until finally Adam breaks away. He’s soaking wet and flushed, his lips swollen, and he is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Yep, definitely bisexual,” I say, shaking my head in amazement, still clutching his waist. Our bodies are pinned together and there is no doubt how much both of us liked that kiss.

  “I think you might be right,” he laughs, glancing down at the obvious situation happening under my thin, soaking-wet pajama pants.

  I pull him in for another short kiss, and a flash of lightning explodes across the night sky.

  “Let’s go inside and dry off,” I say, and he nods.

  I grab his hand and pull him towards the door.

  Chapter Twelve

>   February 2017, Paris, France

  Jamie

  I have my phone pressed to my face when I spot him crossing the street onto the plaza at Notre Dame. The years have been good to him and he looks hot as hell. He still has that dark brooding thing happening, and now he’s rocking killer stubble and a hot bod to go along with it. His long, lean lines are still there, but he’s clearly been working out because even with his thick winter coat on, I can still see a thickness in his arms and thighs that wasn’t there before. He pauses for a minute to watch a skateboarder do a trick. A smile crosses his face and I wonder if he’s been thinking about the same things I’ve been thinking about all day.

  Us.

  Together.

  Adam was my first love. That never really dies, right? Our first kiss flashes across my mind. A kiss that tasted like red wine and rain. A kiss that literally changed my life, confirmed my sexuality, and left me forever changed.

  Adam looks up, and for the first time in 5 years, our eyes meet. I wave at him as we both start walking towards each other.

  To Be Continued…

  About the Author

  Keller Ramsey lives in the South with two kids and an orange cat that tries to kill her at least once a day. When she isn't reading, writing, or screwing around online, you can find her doing all that is necessary to live a healthy lifestyle and achieve the perfect work/life balance...*snorts*

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  @kellerramsey1

  keller.ramsey

  [email protected]

  Never Sorry

  TJ Branham

  Chapter One

  I don’t bother knocking when I get to the door. I can see that asshole sitting on his couch, beer in hand, reclined and staring blankly at the TV. I pause only a moment to take in the light curl of his dark hair. It’s unusual to see him with his head uncovered, I swear that’s the only reason I even look. I refuse to give in to any physical reaction he might cause within me.

  The steel exterior door is open, leaving only the screen door between the object of my wrath and me. It slams loudly behind me when I step through it, and I stop with a hand on my hip.

  Dean’s eyes jerk toward me, dragging the rest of his body with them. His beer sloshes out of the bottle, and he glances down to pat at his pants while cursing. “Melissa, damn it! What the fuck?”

  He’s managed to pull himself out of that ugly brown recliner and now stalks to the kitchen to grab a handful of paper towels and wipe at his jeans. What a pussy. It can’t be more than an ounce of beer. It’s not even good beer. He actually drinks Stag—further proof that he doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it.

  “Yeah, Dean, what the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole? Actually, don’t bother. That’s the answer. You’re an asshole.”

  He stops patting at the jeans that fit his trim legs annoyingly well and makes eye contact. “Look, that’s not fair. I’m not an asshole, I just…” he trails off.

  “Just what, Dean? You’re just what? A child? A coward? A liar?”

  “I didn’t lie!”

  “The fuck you didn’t, Dean! ‘Oh baby, I couldn’t forget you if I tried.’” I mock him, throwing his weeks-old words back at him. The only thing Dean did better than talk dirty was to talk sweet. He’d plied me with nearly two months of both and I’d bought into every word of it. “Turns out I am forgettable since I haven’t heard from you in a week.”

  “Melissa, I was going to text you. It was only a week.”

  “Oh good, more lies. Give me a break, Dean. I know when I’ve been ghosted. One day you can’t go seven hours without saying something sweet or sexy to me, and suddenly you’re radio silent for seven days. You’re not dead. It’s taken you longer to wipe that swill off your pant leg than it would have to send a quick ‘Sorry, Mel, I’m out.’” I’m pacing now, my hands taking on a life of their own in my rage.

  “Instead you just leave me wondering what’s going on. At first I felt sorry for you. I fucking felt sorry for you! Thinking you were so swamped at work you couldn’t get a minute away. I waited for that late night message about how tired you were and wishing you were cuddled up with me to soothe the day away.”

  I fight against the tears threatening to fill my eyes. I’ll be damned if this asshole sees me cry. Those sweet words had warmed my heart, and okay my vagina, too. Now it hurts to know it was all bullshit. Dean shifts uncomfortably and stares at the floor.

  “Oh, do your own words make you uncomfortable, Dean?”

  He glances down at his bare feet. “Mel… I just, it’s complicated. It’s just, the kids, my ex…”

  I put my hand up immediately. “No, Dean. No. You do not get to tell me that shit now. You could have told me any of that over the last seven days and I would have listened. I would have sympathized. I would have wished you luck and happiness. Instead, you cut me off without explanation. Why? Because it would have been a hard conversation? Welcome to adulthood, Dean. Sometimes conversations are hard.”

  He looks up again. “Mel…”

  “No, Dean. Don’t even say my name. You hurt me, asshole. Not because we didn’t work out, but because you thought so little of me that you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me that. Months of sweet words. Of hot words! I spent weeks thinking about when we’d finally get each other naked and then…”

  “I did, too!”

  I’m confused by his response. “You did too, what?”

  “I spent weeks thinking about you naked!” he half yells at me.

  I can’t help but snort. “Don’t patronize me, Dean. We’re both better than that. I don’t even know why you bothered. At least if we’d fucked, I could say you got what you wanted and moved on, but we never even got there. What was the point? You just get off on stringing women along?” I don’t even realize I’ve moved toward him until I’m poking a finger against his chest with every word. “I liked you, Dean.” Poke. “I fucking liked you!” Poke. “Congratulations! You win your fucking game.” Poke.

  “It wasn’t a game!” he protests.

  “Oh fuck off, Dean. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I came here to look you in the eye and tell you to fuck off.” Poke. Because I’m not afraid of hard conversations, Dean. Because I am a grown up.”

  “Fuck.” Poke. “Off.” Poke.

  He captures the hand I’ve been using to poke his chest and strokes my finger absentmindedly. A shiver runs over my skin and it actually renews my fury. Fuck him. Fuck him! He does not get to affect me that way.

  I try to pull my hand from his but he won’t let go. Instead he pulls it to his chest and presses it to his heart. He closes his eyes and leans his head back. I should turn and leave now. I got what I came for, but the tortured look on his face traps me in place.

  “Melissa.” He still has his eyes closed. “I liked you too. I do like you, too. It’s complicated.”

  This time I manage to pull my hand away. “Life is complicated, Dean. That’s no excuse to treat people badly.”

  “I didn’t mean to treat you badly.” He opens his eyes to meet mine. I am definitely not affected by the depth of the almost turquoise blue shade of them. I am not affected.

  “Well, you did anyway. As I said, it’s not because it didn’t work out with us but because you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me that. I’m a grown up. I can handle the truth.”

  “Mel…”

  I wish he’d stop saying my name.

  “I’m so pissed off, Dean. I’m pissed that I let you hurt me. I’m pissed that I’ll never hear our song again without being sad. I’m pissed that you turned out to be such a coward. I’m pissed I didn’t even get an orgasm out of all of this.”

  His eyes flash brightly at my angry diatribe. Maybe now he’s pissed, too. Good.

  Feeling satisfied that I accomplished what I came to do, I turn to march out with as much dignity as I can muster. I’m probably going to regret this visit later, but for once in my life, I’m not just going to slink away when I know I did nothi
ng wrong.

  I’m a few feet from his door when I feel his hand on my shoulder. “Melissa…”

  I jerk away from his touch, which alters my path toward his door. Suddenly, I find myself trapped between Dean and the wall next to his door. I don’t care what else he has to say. I’m out of here.

  I try to slide sideways toward the door when he traps me again, this time with his hands on the wall to either side of my shoulders. I’m not a small woman, but not large either. I glance at the slight bulge of his biceps and try to decide if I can use my weight and strength combined to break through the pen his arms have created. “You’re right, Mel. I am a coward. And I owe you more than I gave you. I’m sorry.”

  Huh. An apology. Well, I can’t say I expected that, but it doesn’t matter. I’m out of here. I brace a hand on his chest and push. Hard. Not that it mattered because not only doesn’t he move back, his actually presses harder against me. He presses hard against me and I suck in a breath. Damn this attraction. I will myself not to respond.

  “Melissa,” his mouth is next to my ear, his voice low. “I’m sorry.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed and remind myself that it’s too little… too late. I say nothing.

  When he presses a light kiss against my neck, my body breaks out in goosebumps. Damn it, Melissa. Do not respond.

  He whispers against my neck, “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Two

  I keep my eyes shut as I shake my head. I don’t trust myself to speak. He presses a kiss on my cheek and whispers again, “I’m sorry.”

  I realize the hand that had tried to push him away is now clutching his t-shirt and pulling him toward me. I let go immediately but don’t know what to do with my hands now. They finally land on his biceps. Big mistake. Big. Damn it, they feel nice.