Page 13 of Bad Man on Campus

“This isn’t any old hot date, guys. This is the girl I let get away. Now I have a second chance. Glory Rose.”

“Glory Rose? Never heard of her.” Fitz frowns.

“I know. She’s just starting at SPU this year and she’s coming over.” I play it cool, but it’s her first night on campus and I’m already angling to have her spend the night, already plunged straight to the bottom of the deep end of the pool. I can hardly breathe with the fear-tinged excitement.

“And you’re just telling us now?” Brick says.

“She’s from back home?” Fitz says.

“My high school sweetheart,” I say, not wanting to dredge up the ugly parts of our past, and ruin the upward trajectory of more than my mood.

“You didn’t say a word about her in the last three years. But it was obvious there was someone you weren’t over her,” Fitz declares, sure he knows me. Telling him the whole story about Glory and the shared tragedy that separated us all this time would shock him, mostly because he couldn’t imagine not sharing something so big.

“Yeah—what happened to break you up?” Brick asks with nothing but careless curiosity in his tone as he shuffles the cards.

“Long sad story that I’m not telling tonight.” Or any night anytime soon. “But Fitz is right. I never got over her. We were together since seventh grade.” Until the summer after graduation.

“Then it’s good you got a break from her,” Brick says, no doubt thinking he’s being sensitive. “Tested the waters to make sure you weren’t missing anything.”

I snort. “That was a fail.”

“Don’t tell Phoebe that,” Fitz says.

“Phoebe and I weren’t going anywhere.”

“Maybe not. But she’s not happy about it,” Fitz says, slight furrow between his brows, as usual.

“Unrequited love is a bitch,” Brick says, dismissing Phoebe. I wonder if he knows firsthand about unrequited love. But my thoughts are interrupted by a loud crash outside, the unmistakable sounds of high impact and metal crunching. A horn blares.

Jumping from my chair, I rush into the front room and join the other guys looking out the window. There’s a car smashed into the tree at the edge of our front lawn. My heart pounds, dread fills me. The driver’s door opens and the interior light pops on and her unmistakable blond curls glow. Glory Rose.

“Fuck.” I take off, slamming through the front door. I run across the lawn as fast as I can. Please don’t let her be hurt. My heart pumps like mad as I watch Glory spill from the car. Brick, Fitz and a crowd of guys from the house follow me.

“Glory.” I reach her and, sweeping my eyes over her, I hope like hell I won’t find any blood.

“Kace, babe. Shorry about the tree.” She looks up at me, leaning into me as I hold her with shaking hands. Realization comes over me in a wave of nausea.

“You’ve been drinking.” Fuck. “What are you doing driving? Goddammit to hell, Glory.” I hold her to me, trying to breathe, to think, to get past the stark terror of her crash and let the knowledge that she’s okay penetrate. The airbag didn’t release and the dent is shallow. She must not have been going very fast. The guys surround us. Fitz and Brick do crowd control, keeping them away. They know Glory is important and no doubt Fitz senses the need for discretion.

Brick blows out a whistle as he looks over the wide dent in the hood. She hit the biggest tree in the neighborhood, but it’s strong and no worse for the wear. Fitz hovers at my side, staring at Glory. The sound of sirens in the distance hits me like a slap in the face. Fuck.

“Someone called the cops,” Fitz says in a low, tight voice. He juts his chin in the direction of the neighbors across the street. There’s someone looking past curtains out the window, but they disappear. Shit.

“Glory . . .” I don’t know what to say.

“I tried to stop. But the car . . . hit . . .” She waves at the tree. “I wanted to see you.” She looks up at me, love and desperation in her bright brown eyes. They’re too bright. I want to shake her, to yell at her, to hold her and kiss her and never let her go. My hands shake as they slide down her back to her ass, feeling the bare skin just below the frayed hem of her Daisy Duke shorts. They were my favorites three years ago, and the time and place are all wrong, but my heart squeezes at her wanting to please me. The well of need to keep her safe rises in me.

“Are you okay, honey? Do you have your license?” Shit. She has no license and isn’t supposed to be driving.

“Course I do. Got it back last year. Dooley said—”

“Dooley let you drive like this?” I introduced them in a text so she’d know someone besides me, and to take care of her. Fuck.

She nods, her big brown eyes staring up at me, on the verge of crying. I can’t let that happen because I don’t know how I’ll stop the tears. The sadness underneath is too big and deep.

“It’ll be okay, honey. Go inside with Fitz. Have some coffee. I’ll be right in.”

“Don’t blame Dooley. He wanted to come but I wouldn’t let him. No passengers.”