The One You Can't Forget (The One, #1)

forty-four

Emyln

I've always loved the smell of rain after a hot summer day, so it's no surprise that I hear the front door of his house slam shut before I see the headlights of his truck flicker as he unlocks it.

After engorging myself with butter chicken and naan bread, I went to bed, only to be woken up three hours later by a dry mouth and a burning stomach. Guess that's what I get for making it way too fucking spicy. Since then, I've been sitting out on the deck and breathing in the fresh smell of the summer night rain and sipping water.

Now the rain seems indifferent.

What the hell does Hains think he's doing?

I jump to my feet and storm back inside, thankful that I didn't change out of my black leggings and Brett Kissel sweater I bought from one of his concerts last spring. I'm majorly pissed at my boyfriend. Majorly. After the talk we had, you'd think he'd honour our decision and call me. I told him I didn't mind if he'd wake me up. I fucking told him and look what he does.

I'm all for running outside in the rain and screaming at him, but something stops me from doing that, and a new idea pops into my mind. An idea that makes me grab the keys to my own vehicle.

I'm going to follow him and act as a spy. There must be a reason behind why he doesn't want me coming with him. Hains is the type of guy that thinks about others before he thinks about himself, so maybe there actually is a dangerous component to these exchanges he makes with the drug dealer.

For whatever reason, he still hasn't left by the time I make it to my vehicle. I hope he's sitting in that driver's seat and wallowing in pure self-loathing for going behind my back like this. I can't believe him.

Five more minutes pass before he backs out of the driveway. I give him about ten seconds before I ignite the engine and follow him, making sure I stay back just enough to not raise suspicions. The drive is about fifteen or so minutes long, and in order to prevent him from seeing me on this dormant, bumpy-as-hell logging road, I pull over and park behind a hoard of bushes.

Pulling the hood of my sweater up, I carefully follow him. It's hard to see where I'm placing my feet because of all the rain and fog and I almost slip on wet, decaying branches a couple times, but I manage to keep my balance. 

Ten minutes into my walk, I see a small clearing ahead where a sleek, black SUV is parked. As soon as I see it, chills go down my spine. This seems so cliché, but it still scares me a little. I think I'm starting to see why Hains didn't want me to tag along with him.

Clamping down on the chills that are caressing my spine, I weave my way through the thick underbrush, ignoring how sopping wet I've become over the last five minutes – the rain is really coming down and the fog is thick. When I'm within hearing range, I stop and hide behind a large cedar tree, hoping I blend in with my surroundings.

Hains is about twenty feet away from me. I can only see the back of his body, but I don't miss how rigid his stance is or the way he keeps tapping his foot against the mud. It concerns me, seeing him like that. If this makes him nervous, then maybe I should be, too.

From my spot, I watch as a man with a buzz cut and tattoos on his neck steps out of the vehicle. Two other men follow closely, their looks not differentiating very much. My stomach curdles, and my respect for Hains goes up. I don't know how he's been able to deal with these guys for so long without having a mental breakdown. Christ, I would never have been able to do this.

"Got the cash?" Neck Tattoos asks.

Hains pulls his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a thick wad of cash. I have no idea how much money he's just given over, but it's definitely a large amount. Probably enough to cover two semester's worth of textbooks. "Yeah," he nods.

Soon after the money is handed over, a baggie of white powder is passed to Hains. He takes it without hesitation. It's so natural you'd almost think he was the addict.

"Couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Hains's shoulders go slack and he shakes his head. "Nope," he mutters.

I reach up to wipe away some of the water that's dripping down my face. My God – I feel terrible for him. This hurts him so much. Can't the dealer tell? Then I ask myself, Why would he care?He's in it for the money and that's all. He doesn't care whose life – lives he's ruining by doing this. It angers me.

"Got any idea when we'll be meeting next?" Neck Tattoos asks. His voice is rough and deep, like a smoker's. And it only does him a favour – it adds to his frightening image.

Hains shakes his head. "No clue." He keeps his voice stable and neutral as he speaks, not showing a bit of emotion. To them, anyway. I can tell that he's upset. "I'll keep you posted."

When he turns away to head back in the direction he came, I relax a little. Okay, so these exchanges, even though they're scary as fuck, go smoothly. Thank God for that. Hains would definitely be able to kick Neck Tattoos' ass, but with the help of his steroid-induced henchmen, I don't think he'd be able to get out without some injuries.

Everything goes well, that is until I hear a familiar ringtone blast through the forest. Everyone's heads snap up and stare in my direction. I quickly press my back against the trunk of the tree and fumble for my iPhone that's stuck in my sweater pocket. Shit, shit, shit! I should have put it on silent before coming here. What the hell was I thinking?

I manage to cut the noise within a few seconds and suddenly all I can hear is the rain against the leaves of the underbrush. I close my eyes and pray that nobody will come over here.

Another stupid thought – they're drug dealers! Of course they're going to come over here! They'd want to know who the hell is spying on them and determine whether or not they're a risk to the illegal shit that's going on. And I should run because of that, but I'm scared. If I run, I could end up twisting an ankle because of how slippery everything is. Who knows what they would do to me then, after making myself look suspicious via running. Fuck. Why did I follow him? I should have just confronted him when he got back.

I know time is ticking by for me to make a decision. I need to decide whether or not I'm going to stay here or run and take the risk of falling.

With a deep breath, I make my decision and take a step forward. But as I do, a fist wraps itself up in my long hair and yanks me backwards. I cry out in pain as the person pulls me to the small clearing where the black SUV is parked.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" I screech, kicking and trying to claw my way free.

The grip only tightens.

Until we stop, that is. And when we stop, my eyes meet Hainsey's first. He's gone as pale as a ghost, and the worry in his eyes scares me to death. I guess this is what I get for not thinking things through like I should've.

I open my mouth to apologize to him, but he shakes his head. Knowing I'm already in deep shit, I keep my mouth shut and stare at him, worry and fear flooding every nerve and cell in my body. 

What the hell have I done?