Always You, Always Us Read online

  Always You, Always Us

  Savannah Carey

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Hunter

  2. Liv

  3. Hunter

  4. Liv

  5. Hunter

  6. Liv

  7. Hunter

  8. Liv

  9. Hunter

  10. Liv

  11. Hunter

  12. Liv

  13. Hunter

  14. Liv

  15. Hunter

  16. Liv

  17. Hunter

  18. Liv

  19. Hunter

  20. Liv

  21. Liv

  22. Hunter

  23. Epilogue

  About the Author

  To Lulu and Sydney…I am in complete awe of you both! The way you defy gravity with effortless grace and skill is truly inspiring! You’re ALL STAR to me!

  Prologue

  Hunter

  Sometimes, memories with the most lasting impact are the ones you’d least expect.

  The sound of tires screeching along the pavement, the noxious smell of burning rubber, the shattering of glass, the roar of the crowds when I hit that last shot only moments earlier…the one that won the national championship basketball game for the University of Southern California... Yeah, I remember it all. But those foggy thoughts are blunted by the image of one blinding white smile – a smile that was not directed at me, but at some undeserving guy who had no idea how lucky he was.

  It was the second worst night of my life.

  But it didn’t start out that way. No, that night had been filled with hope and possibility. Dreams to be realized, a promising future, all of that crap. And just as I hovered over the brink of greatness, ready to take the final leap, everything came crashing down around me.

  Everything.

  That’s what I remember most…watching it all slip away as my window of opportunity slammed shut for good.

  Hunter

  “That was amazing,” Lacie collapses next to me and purrs against my ear, her long fingernails raking across my skin.

  The girl is relentless, and sometimes I think she likes to keep my lower body thoroughly occupied to stop my mouth from speaking words she doesn’t want to hear.

  But I’ve let enough time pass, and they need to be said.

  Too many red flags indicate that we are far from being on the same page, and it’s time to clue her in since the evidence tells me she’s probably picking out a wedding dress.

  I look around at all of the frilly girly stuff she’s been sneaking into my dorm room. As if I wouldn’t notice a bunch of fake fruity smelling pieces of paper in jars or candles on every windowsill. I mean, this whole place smells like the New York Botanical Gardens. I’ve found stuffed animals peering at me from all corners of the room, hanging out on my desk, sitting on top of my laundry basket…or more accurately, buried at the bottom since I haven’t done laundry in almost a month.

  I should have said something when I found her pink fuzzy slippers in my closet. I have no idea when she even managed to unload it all. There isn’t usually down time for decorating. Or talking. Our routine is pretty solid.

  Why does she need to mess up our arrangement?

  Or maybe the better question to ask is why I’ve let this arrangement get so far out of control?

  It’s been a couple of weeks...a lifetime for me. I told her in the beginning I don’t do relationships. But the fact that I’ve let things get this far gives her hope. She thinks she’s changing me. But she’s wrong. Dead wrong.

  And as much as I hate the thought of having a noose in the form of a girlfriend choking the life out of me, I hate the confrontation more. I cringe just thinking about dropping the bomb. The teary-eyed begging, professions of love, desperate pleas for just one more chance.

  It never changes my mind, though. I always send them on their way.

  My life is perfect the way it is. I don’t have time for relationship drama. Most of my time outside of classes is spent running my own company, Rising Star Sports, a sports coaching service for little kids, and it’s made me a boatload of cash over the past two years. It started out as mental therapy when my glory days of commandeering the basketball court came to a screeching halt after a horrible accident my sophomore year, and since I launched the company, it’s become the most booked service in the San Diego area. I have waiting lists for months in several locations in southern California and I’ve expanded north and east with college-aged coaches in different schools up and down the coast running camps all year round. I guess the moms just love watching virile athletes with huge guns shoot hoops with their kids, and I won’t lie, I’m happy to serve up the goods to the hot divorcees whenever the occasion arises.

  I don’t get tied down.

  I take a deep breath. Yanking off this Band-Aid sure ain’t gonna tickle. “Lacie.”

  “Mmm?” She lifts the bed sheet and dips her head under it.

  “We have to talk.”

  Why the do people even say that? Don’t they really want to get out of the situation that forces them to put their thoughts into words? Especially if the words are going to turn a smiling face into one contorted with disgust and anger? Yeah, I’ve seen that face a million times before. You’d think I’d be better at this part, but it still makes me cringe, mainly because I’m not a complete jerk. I don’t want to hurt Lacie, I just don’t want to mess around with her anymore because pretty soon, she’ll ask to bring me home to meet Mommy and Daddy.

  Some girls last longer than others because they play by my very clear rules, but at the end of the day, none of them can handle it when I pull the plug. They always want more, and I can’t give it to them.

  Won’t is the more accurate word, if I’m being honest.

  She gasps and her head reappears, hair tousled from being under the sheet. “Talk about what?” Her eyes light up. “Oh my God! Do you…want to come home with me this weekend? My parents would love—“

  I knew this was coming. “No, not about that.” I let out a sigh. “Listen, it’s been fun, but I think we need to cool things off a bit.” Good move, slick. Tell her that after you’ve rocked her world for the better part of the past three hours.

  Then the nostrils flare. “It’s been fun? We need to cool things off?”

  And here we go.

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” She leaps to her feet and kicks me from all angles. Red toes are assaulting me from different directions, and I don’t know which way to roll first. “How could you do this to me, to us? I thought we had something special, Hunter! How could you just throw it all away?”

  The kicks keep coming, followed by her flying fists. I keep thinking she’ll tire herself out, but she keeps swinging and screaming. Unfortunately for me, there’s also a lamp within reach, and once she realizes it, I’ll be completely screwed.

  Suddenly, she stops. Panting, she collapses on the bed in front of me, eyes narrowed. “This is because of her, isn’t it? I can’t believe I actually thought you’d choose me. Everyone said it’d never happen, that she’s always going to come first, but I thought…maybe…things might be different with us. With me.”

  I swallow hard but can’t force out the words. What the heck do I tell her? That it’s true? That it’s not true? I don’t even know the answer myself, but I can still use it as an excuse. Or maybe I should just man up and tell her I just don’t want to get tied down. To anyone.

  But I don’t have a chance to answer. She’s already pulling on her dress and stuffing her menagerie of furry friends into a purse. I hear a few sniffles, and my stomach clenches. “Lacie, I never meant things to turn out this way. You deserve more than I can give you. I’m sorry.”

  “I let it hap
pen. It’s my own fault.” With a shrug, she runs her fingers through her tangled hair and swipes at the tears running down her face. Her makeup is smudged and she kind of looks like a raccoon. She stomps to the door and flings it open, turning around one last time to face me before storming out. “I may not be Little Miss Cheer All-Star, but I can do some pretty crazy stuff. Your loss.”

  The door slams shut behind her, the thin walls shuddering from the force.

  I collapse against my pillow and grab my phone from the nightstand. I stab at the keyboard.

  Guess who just attacked me within an inch of my life?

  I close my eyes and lean back against the pile of pillows, waiting for the ping of a reply.

  No way! I thought for sure she was going to propose! What’d you do?

  A snicker escapes my lips as I type a reply. She wanted to bring me home to meet her parents, so I told her we needed to call it quits.

  A long pause follows that message. No read receipt. Seriously?

  Hello? I send another message. Great, now I’m a stalker.

  A minute later, the reply comes through. Sorry, bad timing. I’ve got to go. Tomorrow morning at seven?

  I type my response. Yep. I’ll be ready.

  Except I never really am.

  Liv

  Wet, hungry lips attack my mouth, forcing open my lips. My stomach clenches as Thomas leans into me, breathing heavily. Unfortunately, the only thing missing from this steamy scenario is the elusive spark crackling between us.

  The stench of stale booze is too much. Most nights I can fight it, but tonight, it makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit. Hard to believe that the captain of the varsity basketball team can be so controlled on the court, leading the USC Golden Bears to victory most weekends, but off hours? He’s a hot mess…especially after a crushing defeat like the one he suffered tonight.

  I didn’t know that side of him when we started dating. Since I’m captain of the cheer competition team, we travel most weekends. I only cheer for our games when I’m in town, and that’s not often. I like it that way. It keeps my focus on other things, and Lord knows, I need the distraction.

  But this thing with Thomas has to end. He takes his basketball losses pretty horribly, tonight being no exception, and I’m not about to comfort him with my body. Not tonight. Not ever.

  I roll my eyes at the grunting and groaning and push against his chest with my hands. “Thomas, stop.”

  He leers at me, his blue eyes bloodshot and droopy. To think he’s actually one of the best-looking guys at this school when he’s not swimming in alcohol. Tomorrow isn’t going to be such a great day for him, for more reasons than one.

  “Whatsa matta?” He slurs, his huge hands holding the sides of my face. I think he thinks he’s looking at me, but he’s actually looking to my left. Whatever. At least I have his attention.

  “You can’t stay tonight. I have to leave early tomorrow morning, remember?”

  He flops down next to me. “Aw, come on, Livvie. I can think of lots of things you can do to make me feel better. Don’t make me leave.”

  My back stiffens at the use of my nickname. Only one person uses it. It’s on strict reserve. “Not tonight.”

  “Wait, where are you going tomorrow? You didn’t tell me you had another competition. I thought you were on break until Hawaii?”

  I take a deep breath. God, I just love dating someone who never bothers to listen when I speak. “Thomas, it’s not a competition. I’m going home for the weekend for a family party.” I’d never bothered to tell him much about my family. Well, scratch that. It’s not like he ever asked…or did much talking about anything aside from his promising basketball career and all of the connections his father has with the NBA, which will make him a shoo-in for the draft.

  “Party, huh?” He runs a hand through his hair, which is now sticking up in a million directions. “Why didn’t you ask me to come? Wait…” He leans on his elbows and pulls himself up. “You’re not going alone, are you?” It’s a question, but it sounds more like a statement. He knows the answer. Not that it’s any big secret. And I just wanted to get a good night’s sleep tonight before the craziness of the weekend hits.

  “You know I’m not. I told you about this a week ago.” And then, with the most perfectly un-perfect timing, my phone pings with another text message. I swallow a groan when Thomas’s eyes narrow.

  “Is your date confirming for tomorrow?” he snarls.

  I clench my fists. “Yes, as a matter of fact.” Was it wrong not to ask Thomas to come as my plus one? Yeah. But there’s no way I was going to deal with his excessive drinking and a potential brawl at my sister’s engagement party. The king would be better off here holding court.

  “Why don’t you just give it up to him, then? He’s the one you run to all the time when you bring home a new trophy or when you figure out how to do a new…” His hand does a little twirly motion. “…I don’t know…flip thing. We’ve been dating for weeks, but I never get the text or the call.”

  My lips stretch into a thin line. He’s right, there’s no denying it. And shame on me for thinking it’d be different this time, that I could actually have somewhat of a normal relationship with a guy. Who the heck was I kidding? It’s never going to be remotely close to that, and while I know I should do something to fix my situation, I just can’t let go. That’s why my whirlwind romances last about as long as a birthday candle before it’t snuffed out.

  I take a deep breath, about ready to finish my latest story. It varies from guy to guy, but this one with Thomas has an easy ending because he’s a flipping lush, says way too much at the wrong times, and has an ego the size of the Northern Hemisphere. “I’m sorry, Thomas. I really am. But this isn’t going to change. He’s a big part of my life.”

  Thomas’s nostrils flare and he leans forward, our noses almost touching. I recoil slightly, trying to hold my breath as inconspicuously as possible so I don’t hurl all over him. “You have to choose.”

  “I already did.” I sit up straight, my fists clenched around the comforter. “Goodbye.”

  His mouth drops open. “You’re picking him over me? Are you serious? I’m the king of this school! He’s nothing!”

  “That’s your opinion. But regardless of who is king…” I use air quotes for that one, since it’s such a stupid thing to even say. “…I’m just tired of the constant questions and accusations. You obviously don’t trust me, no matter how many times I tell you there’s nothing going on with us. And every time you drink, you get more and more forceful with me, even though I’ve told you I’m not ready to take that next step.”

  “I bet you’d take it with him!”

  “Argh!” I let go of the comforter and push back my hair. “You know, here’s another reason, since you clearly don’t think you could possibly be the problem. I’m sick of being dragged along to all of these frat parties and paraded around while you pound drinks all night and turn into a complete handsy idiot! I get that you’ve got a lot of pressure on you, the whole living up to a legacy, getting drafted by the NBA, dealing with your parents thing. But seriously, you need to get it together. How many fights have you gotten into since we started dating? How many places have you gotten kicked out of because of your temper?” I shake my head. “I have too much going on with cheer and school. I can’t deal with your drama, too.”

  “You’re just a tease, Liv. And I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner.”

  I look at him. “I’m just being honest. And I’m tired of being used. You don’t care about me. You’ve never once shown up to one of my practices or competitions. You never ask about my workouts. You only care about you. And guess what, Tommy boy?” I point to my lips. “This mouth is officially closed.”

  “Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, rolling off the bed and pulling himself to his feet. “If I walk out this door, I’m not coming back, no matter how much you beg. And you will when you wake up tomorrow and realize what you gave up.”

&nb
sp; I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Oh, I realize it now. And thank God I haven’t given up a darn thing to this cretin.

  Hunter

  The faint scent of strawberries assaults my nose, making me shudder. My stomach rolls as my eyes float open. I hate strawberries. More accurately, I’m deathly allergic to them; a fact I only learned at the age of ten. Who knew that one sip of a vanilla milkshake mixed with the same spoon as my new best friend’s strawberry one could almost put me six feet under?

  One lick almost ended our friendship. And my life.

  That was twelve years ago.

  I should have walked away then, you know, after the hospital staff brought me back to the land of the living.

  But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  Still can’t tear myself away, even though the threat of what could happen if I cross a line is ever-present.

  It’s hard to imagine walking away from my first real friend, the only person who gave me the time of day when Dad and I moved to Pleasanton, California from the sticks of Iowa after Mom died. She was the only person who defended me when the other kids made fun of my farm hick attire, the only person who invited me out for a milkshake after school when the bullies in my class “decorated” my new backpack…the one Mom had bought me right before…

  It still hurts to think about it, all of these years later.

  My dad did the best he could under the circumstances, but he was suffering just like I was and had no clue about West Coast fashion trends. And little kids can be real jerks when someone different invades their turf.