Heartless Page 2

  There is no forgiveness in his heart.

  But then again, did I really expect there would be?

  Maybe. It would have made coexisting on campus for the next year so much easier.

  It’s obvious from his terse behavior that Hunter would prefer to pretend I never existed in the first place. As much as I would love to give him that, I can’t. Unforeseen circumstances have forced me home.

  I straighten my shoulders and attempt to keep my voice level. I don’t want him to hear the slight tremble that is working its way through my body. “I transferred to Claremont for my senior year.”

  His shadowed jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth. “Why?”

  The way he bites out that one word leaves me wincing.

  I take a quick step back and lift my chin, not wanting him to see how much power he still holds over me. Time has done nothing to diminish it. “That’s none of your business.”

  Whether Hunter realizes it or not, he still owns a piece of my heart. It’s better for both of us if he never suspects the depth of my feelings.

  His hands tighten into fists as he closes the little bit of distance that I’ve managed to put between us. Instead of scrambling back the way every instinct is clamoring for me to do, I hold my ground until we’re standing toe-to-toe. My heart pounds a painful staccato against my breast as his harsh breath feathers across my parted lips.

  There was a time when I couldn’t get close enough to Hunter.

  Now I can’t get far enough away.

  Sorrow floods through every fiber of my body that it has to be this way between us. Next to Lanie, Hunter was my best friend. He was my first everything.

  Date.

  Kiss.

  Love.

  Heartbreak.

  Everything we once shared has been blown to pieces and we’re nothing more than strangers. Actually, what we are is much worse. His animosity is palpable. It radiates from him in suffocating waves that threaten to choke the life out of me.

  “You shouldn’t have come back,” he growls. “You don’t belong here anymore.”

  That may be true, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.

  I shift my weight and force myself to say, “Claremont is big enough for the two of us.”

  “No, it’s not. Stay the fuck out of my way, Skye.” His eyes flash with barely suppressed hostility. “You won’t like the consequences if you don’t.”

  Before I can summon up a retort, he stalks away. Rooted in place, my gaze tracks his movements until he fades into the crowd. Not once does he turn around and acknowledge my presence. I’ve been dismissed. Relegated to the blackhole that is our past.

  Once he disappears from sight, my knees weaken as the pent-up breath rushes from my aching lungs.

  I haven’t been on campus for a full seventy-two hours and in Hunter’s eyes, I’m public enemy number one.

  Chapter Two

  Hunter

  T his night has turned to total shit and there’s no way to salvage it.

  Not even the two gorgeous girls tucked under my arms are enough to pull my attention back to them. Although, they’re trying their damnedest. Their hands stroke over my chest as they press their firm titties close to my body. If this were any other night, I’d be kicking back and enjoying the female adoration that comes with being QB for the Claremont Cougars.

  With Skye in the vicinity, that’s not possible. I’m ridiculously aware of her on every level. If she shifts a muscle or inhales a breath, I’m cognizant of it. Worse than that, I can’t stop myself from watching her. Every so often, our gazes will lock before she quickly jerks hers away.

  If I’d thought I was mentally prepared to see my ex after all this time, I was mistaken. Catching my first glimpse of her was like getting tackled from my blindside. My chest tightened and for a heartbeat, the time, distance, and hurt fell away and I was staring at the girl I’d once loved beyond all reason. Even though it’s been more than an hour since she slammed into me, I still feel off-kilter. My world has tilted on its axis and there’s no way to right it again.

  Skye fucking Sinclair.

  A million unbidden memories flood through my mind. It was Skye’s golden blond hair that first caught my attention freshman year of high school. Once she looked at me with those bright green eyes, I was a goner.

  It’s disconcerting to realize that the attraction I’d always felt for her was just as powerful. If Skye had been pretty as a teenager, she’d grown into her looks becoming drop dead gorgeous. Her body had always shown signs of curves, her breasts more than a handful, but now her waist was nipped-in and her hips lush.

  And I wasn’t the only one noticing. All I had to do was glance around to see how many guys were checking her out. She was attracting way too much attention. It took every ounce of my tightly leashed control not to stalk over and chase every single asshole away from her.

  Instead of staying as far from Skye as I could get, I’d positioned myself so I could watch her. Every time she shrank away, trying to melt into the crowd, I stalked closer. There were times when her anxiety would ease, and she would flash a smile at whoever she was talking to before her gaze would unexpectedly collide with mine. In the blink of an eye, her happiness would dissolve, and she’d attempt to slink further away from me.

  I haven’t allowed her to get far. It’s as if there’s an invisible string connecting us.

  Where she goes, I follow.

  Whether I want to or not.

  With my attention locked on Skye, I don’t realize that one of my teammates has sidled up to me.

  Uncaring of the girls pressed against me, Lucus points to Skye. “Who’s the chick with Jaxon?”

  I bite off the frustrated growl that aches to slip free. I know who he’s talking about, but it pisses me off that he’s zeroing in on Skye. There are plenty of chicks at this party. Can’t he sniff around one of them instead?

  “His girlfriend, Lanie.”

  Lucas frowns before scoffing. “I know who Lanie is.” He jerks his head in Skye’s direction. “I’m talking about the blonde honey with the big titties. Haven’t seen her around before.” He smacks his lips together and leers. “Damn, but I love me some fresh meat.”

  You know what I’d love?

  To punch this joker in his fucking mouth. Instead, I flex my hands to keep them from curling into fists and doing exactly that.

  “Skye,” I grunt.

  “Huh?”

  “Her name,” I reluctantly grumble, “is Skye.”

  Lucas strokes his chin as a shit eating grin slides across his face. “I don’t know about sky, but I’m willing to bet there’s a little piece of heaven between those gorgeous thighs.”

  Motherfucker!

  “Woah!” Lucas’s voice turns panicky. “What the hell, dude?”

  It takes a moment to realize that I’ve dropped my arms from around the girls and am advancing on Lucas until he throws up his hands to ward me off. My jaw is so tightly clenched that I wouldn’t be surprise if it cracked under the pressure.

  “Sorry, dude. Didn’t know you had interest in that direction. I’m not trying to step on any toes.” When I don’t take the conversation any further, his muscles gradually relax, and he snorts while giving me a bit of side-eye. “Not like there isn’t enough pussy to go around.”

  Fuck. I shouldn’t give a damn about him or any other guy who wants to get in her pants. Unfortunately, that knowledge doesn’t alleviate the anger pumping through my veins. “Stay away from her. Got it?”

  “Loud and clear, Price.” Lucas claps me on the shoulder and takes off like his ass is on fire. I blink and realize that the two girls who had been groping me have also scattered. I plow a hand through my hair.

  You know what’s not helping this situation one damn bit?

  Standing around watching Skye like a lovesick teenager. I need to stay as far away from that girl as I can get. And even that wouldn’t be far enough.

  Why the fuck di
d she have to return now?

  I need to get out of here, but I’ll be damned if I leave this party alone. All I’ll end up doing is sitting around and stewing over the past. Much better to have a distraction for a few hours. Maybe then I’ll be worn out enough to fall into a dreamless sleep.

  My gaze roves over the crowd until it lands on a couple of chicks who are watching me with hungry looks. I know exactly what these girls want and luckily for them, I’m in the mood to give it. It takes effort to smooth out my features before forcing a smile to my lips. As soon as I do, they start in my direction.

  I don’t have to lift a finger. It’s almost too easy.

  When they’re close enough, they say in unison, “Hi, Hunter.”

  “Hey.” I give them each a chin lift in acknowledgment.

  One’s a brunette and the other is a redhead.

  Perfect.

  Both are toned and athletic looking.

  Even better.

  They look nothing like the girl I’ve spent three years trying to evict from my head.

  “You ladies want to get out of here?”

  Their eyes light up as they nod.

  “Great.” I wrap an arm around each girl before tugging them close.

  As I’m about to walk away, I glance in Skye’s direction. It pisses me off that I’m unable to resist the temptation. Already I know that her presence on campus is going to be a problem.

  It’s Skye fucking Sinclair.

  How can it not be?

  Sadness flickers in her eyes right before she rips her gaze away.

  Once upon a time, I gave this girl my heart and she stomped all over it. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll stay the hell out of my way.

  Chapter Three

  Skye

  U nsure if I should knock, I hesitate at the front door.

  Technically speaking, it’s Dad’s house. His name is on the mortgage, but he shares it with his third wife. She moved in a couple months after they started dating and pretty much took over the place, making it her own. Ever since then, it hasn’t felt like my house. I’m treated more like a guest, which sucks but there’s nothing I can do about it. If I want to have a relationship with my father, then I need to paste a smile on my face and pretend we’re one big happy family.

  Decision made, I rap my knuckles lightly against the wood and hold my breath. When the door swings open, I’m relieved to find my dad standing on the other side of the threshold.

  His lips lift into a smile when he sees me. “Hey, why didn’t you just walk in?”

  I shrug. My father enjoys living in a little place called denial. He wraps it around himself like a warm cloak. It’s not worth the trouble it’ll cause to insert reality into this situation. Especially now, given the circumstances. There are more important issues to contend with other than my feelings regarding his spouse.

  Instead of commenting, my gaze runs over the length of him, taking stock of his appearance.

  “You look good, Dad.” It’s not a total lie. He doesn’t look bad.

  “Thanks,” he says, “I’m feeling pretty good.”

  That’s the ironic thing about cancer. You can be dying on the inside but look perfectly healthy on the outside. Dad was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer about twelve months ago. It’s the reason I transferred to Claremont for my senior year. His illness is probably the only thing that could have forced me home.

  The prognosis isn’t good. Let’s just say there isn’t a stage five for cancer and leave it at that.

  Even though he keeps reminding me that people beat this every day, I’ve done enough research to understand that the chances of that happening are nothing short of miraculous. A colonoscopy ten years ago—at stage one or two—would have made all the difference in the world.

  The fact this disease was preventable is a bitter pill to swallow.

  Dad waves me to the kitchen, which is at the back of their sprawling, five thousand square foot house. “I was about to make myself a bowl of soup.”

  Soup?

  Seriously?

  Please tell me it’s at least the homemade variety. Something hardy with vegetables and protein.

  “You’re having soup for dinner?” I glance around the kitchen, taking in all the changes Brandi has made. Four years ago, she did a complete renovation. Out with the dark cabinetry and tan granite and in with high-end white cabinets and gray marble countertops. More like, out with all the decorating choices Dad’s second wife had made, so Brandi could erase her predecessor’s fingerprints from the house. The master bedroom, closet, and bath were the first rooms to get a facelift.

  “Sure, I love soup. You know that.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal before going to the cupboard and pulling out a can of bean and ham.

  “Dad,” I protest as anger bubbles up inside me, “you need to eat healthy. I just read a book about all these foods that help your body fight cancer.” I wave toward the can he’s holding in his hand like its poison. “Put that garbage away. I’ll make you something else.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know, Dad,” I sigh.

  But someone needs to.

  And the woman who should be taking care of him is conspicuously absent. Which, from what I’ve witnessed over the years, is fairly typical. Other than sucking up resources, I have no idea what Brandi does. All right, that’s not completely true. She’s into working out, shopping, and Botox.

  If Brandi cared about my dad’s health, she would be here making him a proper meal.

  So what does that tell you?

  Exactly.

  “Put the can away.” I pull open the doors to the fridge and consider the options. There’s a shit ton of yogurt, which is what Brandi subsists on. Another Brandi favorite—meal replacement shakes. My guess is that she’s trying to stay in fighting shape for husband number three. While this is Dad’s third marriage, it’s her second. From what I’ve been able to piece together, Brandi isn’t a woman who likes to be on her own. She needs a man to take care of her.

  I tap my foot and narrow my eyes as I rifle through the fridge. Wedged in the back, I find a carton of eggs, a bag of shredded cheese, and a small container of mushrooms.

  All right, I can work with this.

  “How about an omelet?”

  “Sure.” He settles at the oversized marble island as I pull out a sauté pan and fire up the stove. “Are you going to join me?”

  I throw a pat of butter in the pan and dump in the sliced mushrooms. Once they’ve browned up, I pull out a large glass bowl, crack the eggs, and add a splash of milk before whisking the mixture. “Yup. I haven’t had time to shop for groceries this week.”

  “Are you settling in okay?” Before I can respond, he adds, “You could have always stayed at the house.”

  If it were just my father, that’s exactly what I would have done. But with Brandi in residence…no thanks. When she’s around, it’s all-Brandi all the time. It’s almost impressive the way she can make everything that happens—even Dad’s cancer—about herself. The woman is thirty-five years old and needs constant attention. The way Dad fawns over her only makes it worse.

  So, no…I was never going to stay here.

  Once I have Dad’s omelet prepared, I slide it onto a plate and serve it to him at the counter. Five minutes later, mine’s ready to go. I turn off the burner and with my plate in hand, drop onto the stool next to him. He’s halfway through his eggs as I lift the first bite to my lips. It might not be the dinner of champions, but it’s a hell of a lot better than a can of soup.

  “It’s really good, kiddo. Maybe you should reconsider a career in counseling and think about culinary school instead.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m fully aware of my own limitations. Omelets are about as fancy as it gets.” I point my fork at him. “And you know it.”

  “Well, your efforts have been appreciated.” There’s a pause as we dig into our meal. “You know I didn’t want you uprooting your life for me
, but I’m grateful you’re back.” He clears the emotion from his throat. “I’m glad we have this time to spend together.”

  The egg and cheese concoction turns to ash in my mouth. It takes everything I have inside to choke it down and keep the tears that prick the back of my eyelids at bay. A few moments slide by as I wrestle my emotions back under control. “Me too, Dad.”

  As I pop the last bite of omelet into my mouth, the backdoor swings open and a high-pitched voice cuts through the silence.

  “Hello, I’m home!” There’s a pause. “Dean?”

  And that would be my cue to leave.

  I jump to my feet and grab both of our plates before setting them in the sink.

  I’ll let Brandi clean up the mess.

  It’s the least she can do.

  Chapter Four

  Skye

  G reat.

  It’s the first day of the fall semester and I’m already late for my nine o’clock class. Had I been smart, I would have walked around campus to familiarize myself with it. Claremont University has a sprawling property that covers more than two thousand acres.

  I’m now paying the price for that decision.

  Everything that could have gone wrong this morning has.

  Not only did I sleep through my alarm, I’ve managed to end up at the southern tip of campus instead of the northern end. I should be at Hastings Hall, the health sciences building, at this very moment. Not Grover Hall, where the engineering classes are held. I’m as far from an engineer as you can get. Now I’m stuck backtracking, trying to haul ass across campus.

  By the time I reach Hastings for my required health class, I’m out of breath and my shirt is clinging to my sweat-dampened back.

  Have I mentioned that it’s already eighty degrees outside and it’s only nine o’clock in the morning?

  Welcome to late August in North Carolina.

  I drag myself up the staircase and locate the lecture hall. My footsteps stutter when I find the door already closed which means there won’t be any quiet sneaking in for me.