When We Were Reckless: An Age Gap Best Friend's Sister Romance Read online

  WHEN WE WERE RECKLESS

  EMERY ROSE

  Copyright © 2021 by EMERY ROSE

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Lori Jackson

  Photographer: Wong Sim

  Cover Model: Charley Santos

  Editors: Jennifer Mirabelli (Content Edits); Ellie McLove, My Brother’s Editor

  Created with Vellum

  When We Were Reckless Playlist

  “You Broke Me First” - Conor Maynard version

  “Love Songs Ain’t For Us” - Amy Shark, Keith Urban

  “Thing Called Love” - NF

  “I’ll Wait” - Kygo, Sasha Sloan

  “Some Say” - Nea

  “smile again” - Blackbear

  “Biting My Tongue” - The Veronicas

  “Like Lovers Do” - Hey Violet

  “Adore” - Amy Shark

  “In My Blood” - The Veronicas

  “Slower” - Tate McRae

  “What A Time” - Julia Michaels, Niall Horan

  “Don’t Give Up On Me” – Andy Grammer

  “If You Love Her” - Forest Blakk, Meghan Trainor

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Also by EMERY ROSE

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Quinn

  My brothers bought me metallic gold Nikes to coordinate with my blue cap and gown and the gold Honor Society sash around my neck. I lived in Nikes. It was literally like walking on air. My collection was huge. A couple of years ago, Mason and Holden, my two oldest brothers, built shelves for me with cubbies to display them all. Whenever I thought about packing for college in the fall, I wondered how I’d cull my collection to fit into my dorm room closet. I wouldn’t have the kind of space I did now.

  Which ones would I leave behind?

  As I was debating this, the guy next to me—Jackson Carter—nudged my shoulder. I blinked up at him. He was huge, a baller. “You’re up.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” Typical. I’d missed my name being called. I grinned, excitement bubbling inside me as I climbed the steps to the stage to accept my high school diploma—one of four hundred and five seniors graduating tonight.

  The ceremony was at Maverick stadium, the football field and stands lit up by floodlights. I was the fourth and last Cavanaugh to step onto this stage and receive a diploma. Last time, we were here for Declan. Earlier this evening, Mom had cried that her baby was ‘flying the nest.’ My family still wasn’t sold on the idea of me leaving home or being so far away, but they’d come around. Eventually.

  Principal Bradley handed me my diploma and clasped my hand in his. “I do not doubt that you will go on to do amazing things,” he said, and I wondered if he repeated those exact words to every student that walked onto this stage. “Good luck, Quinn. You’ve been an inspiration. Go out and make the world a better place.”

  No pressure there. My brothers would be laughing at how cheesy this was, but I just smiled and bit my tongue to stop myself from cracking one of my stupid jokes. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

  I turned and waved my diploma in the air, my eyes searching the stands for my family. They weren’t hard to find. My three brothers and mom held a gigantic banner that said: YOU’RE THE TOP BANANA, CHIQUITA. Someone had painted a fruit bowl with a bunch of bananas. The top banana had a blown-up photo of my face on it. It was so huge they could probably see it from Mars.

  I should have known my family would make a stupid fruit joke. It was a tradition. It went with the territory of owning a chain of organic food stores.

  They were shouting my name. In a sea of thousands, the Cavanaughs always managed to be the loudest. They were so annoying.

  I loved their guts.

  I brushed off the disappointment that my dad hadn’t made an effort to be here tonight and blew my family kisses as I danced across the stage on sneakers made of air. When I stepped off the stage, I searched for the other family that matched mine in spirit and volume—the McCallisters.

  My gaze zeroed in on Jesse McCallister. He was here. I’d heard he was coming back. And now, here he was, looking all cool and casual.

  It was no exaggeration to say that I have been in love with Jesse my entire life. Too bad he only thought of me as his best friend’s little sister. I had one summer to turn things around. One summer to make him see that I was the woman of his dreams.

  I’d just have to make sure to keep my plan a secret from my brothers, especially Mason.

  Jesse’s eyes locked on mine. Then he raised his arm, made a fist, and thumped it against his heart. The smile that used to be so quick to form, the brilliant smile that could rival the floodlights for its brightness, wasn’t there but the gesture—the fist to his heart—that was for me.

  And I died just a little. I was liquid gold, my limbs, and muscles, and bones melting into my sneakers and leaving a puddle on the grass. The only thing left of me was my thrashing heart lying on the ground at my feet.

  Unrequited love. Was there anything more painful?

  When I was five years old, I asked Jesse to marry me. He said yes. He even went along with the fake wedding ceremony I set up under the giant oak in my backyard. I made him wear a daisy chain around his neck that matched mine. We celebrated our nuptials with pink lemonade and pink-frosted sugar cookies.

  After that, I told everyone he was my husband—even the guys at the motocross track where Jesse and my brothers practiced. I was only five at the time, but he was fourteen. A lot of boys that age would have been embarrassed or told me to get lost. But not Jesse. By the time I was twelve, he was already a hotshot in motocross and Supercross with sponsorships and endorsements, his pretty face and cut abs plastered on posters that girls hung on their walls and drooled over. They probably licked them too. Or maybe that was just me.

  I filled my journal with stories and poetry and confessions, his name doodled in the margins. At the time, he was busy training and competing, traveling all over the country for races, but he dropped everything for me.

  Eighteen months ago,
he came home from California to be by my side again.

  I’d never told him that his stories about California were one of the reasons I’d set my sights on UCLA. I wanted to live near the ocean. Dance in the sunshine. Learn to surf. Take creative writing classes and psychology classes, and film classes and live every day like it was my last.

  Most of all, I wanted to be near him.

  At the time, he was living and training in Temecula in Southern California. My overactive imagination had run wild with possibilities. I’d be his ride or die. My arms wound tightly around him on the back of his motorcycle as we zipped up the Pacific Coast Highway. The wind in my hair, sun on my face, his sunshine citrus scent washing over me. Out from under the watchful eye of my overprotective brothers. Not defined by my medical history.

  As if a change of location would free me from the ties that bind.

  But oh, the absolute irony of my best-laid plans.

  In a few short months, I’d be heading to California, and where would he be? Still in Texas?

  Was it because of his ex-girlfriend? Had she loved him? Had she loved him the way I loved him? Was that possible? I thought not.

  I sighed as I stood with my classmates and watched the other graduates walk across the stage. When they called Ridge McCallister’s name, I watched him climb the stairs. His golden-brown hair touched his collar, his cap was askew, and his gown flapped behind him. Despite the predictions that he’d end up in juvie or flunk out, Cypress Springs High’s resident bad boy was not only graduating but going on to college where he’d be playing football. I didn’t even know Ridge, not really, but I cheered for him and laughed when he turned his back to the crowd, lifted his gown, and mooned the entire audience, eliciting catcalls and shouts, and an I love you, Ridge McCallister from the cheering squad.

  “That will be enough, Mr. McCallister,” Principal Bradley said sternly. But even he was fighting a smile as he shook his head at Ridge’s antics. Good for Ridge. He’d turned his life around.

  Miracles do happen. I was living proof.

  Chapter Two

  Quinn

  It had been four days since my graduation, and I still hadn’t seen Jesse. I didn’t even know where he was. I’d driven past his house a few times, low-key stalker that I was, but he wasn’t home.

  I parked my VW Beetle in the designated employees’ parking area—a patch of gravel and grass next to the brewery and grabbed my bag from the passenger seat. According to my brother Declan, I was the world’s worst waitress, but since they were family, my brothers had no choice but to hire me for the summer.

  Cavanaugh Brothers Brewing Company was the brainchild of my three brothers and sat on twenty acres of prime Texas Hill Country land. They grew fruits and vegetables for Declan’s farm-to-table restaurant and the fruit they used in their craft beers.

  A timber and stone barn had been converted into the brewery, and a renovated stone farmhouse housed the taproom and the kitchen—all open and airy with soaring ceilings and wide plank wood floors.

  I walked into the taproom, twenty minutes before they opened, and I heard his voice. Low and kind of raspy. I’d know it anywhere.

  “Holy shit,” Mason said. He and Holden were standing in front of a laptop on the oak bar.

  “What’s going on?”

  Neither of them answered, their eyes glued to the screen.

  “After months of soul searching,” I heard Jesse say as I hurried around to the other side of the bar and squeezed in between Mason and Holden, two walls of muscle, both of them well over six feet tall. At five foot three, I was the family runt. They stepped aside to make room for me, and there on the screen was Jesse.

  “I’ve made the decision to retire.”

  I stared at the screen in shock. Retire? What the hell was he doing? He did not just say that. I must have misheard. No way would Jesse retire. He was only twenty-seven.

  Was this because of this past season? It hadn’t been that bad.

  I’d watched all his Supercross races this season and had seen him struggling to get back to the top where he belonged. For anyone else, finishing eighth after coming back from a severe injury would have been admirable. But for someone at Jesse’s level--a motocross legend who had won four Supercross championships in a row, not to mention thirty-nine National wins, five AMA moto titles, and three gold medals at the X Game--this past season had been a massive blow.

  And yes, I could recite all his stats off the top of my head. I knew every win and every loss, every podium finish, and every injury he’d sustained in his career.

  But why was he retiring?

  I stared at his gorgeous face. He was wearing a blue button-up that brought out the blue in his eyes. Behind him was the factory team’s green and black racing colors and logo. He was standing behind a lectern, speaking into the mic.

  There was no smile on his face, but I heard his emotions in every word.

  “I want to thank the team and my sponsors for all the support you’ve given me over the years and for allowing me the opportunity to make a career in the sport I love. My heartfelt thanks go out to my fans. Thank you for sticking with me through all the ups and downs, the serious injuries, and the great successes. I’m grateful to my family, who has always believed in me and encouraged me to give one hundred percent in everything I do. I’ve been so fortunate to have had so much support throughout my career. This sport has given so much back to me. It has been an honor and a privilege to race against the very best in the world.”

  He bowed his head and put his hand over his heart. “It has been an amazing ride.”

  And that was it. When Jesse finished making his announcement, he walked away, not even hanging around to answer any questions.

  Mason shut down his laptop, and for a few seconds, we stood in stunned silence.

  “Did you guys know about this?” I asked them. “Did he say anything to you?” I looked from Holden to Mason. They were only a year apart, with the same chestnut brown hair. I was the only one who had inherited Mom’s blonde hair.

  They both shook their heads.

  “I just know he was going through a bad time,” Holden said. “He went through so much shit in the past year.”

  “With his injury, you mean?” Last August, he broke his vertebrae in two places. That would have been enough to get anyone down. But Jesse had always been stubborn and determined. Three months after that crash, he’d been riding again. So none of this added up.

  “That had to be rough,” Mason said. “But I think it was everything that happened with his ex that messed with his head.”

  “What did she do?” I gritted out between clenched teeth, my eyes narrowed. Holden’s brows shot up.

  Tone it down, Quinn. I cleared my throat. “I mean… Do you guys know what happened?”

  “He didn’t want to talk about it,” Mason said. “Can’t blame him. If my girlfriend cheated on me, I wouldn’t want to talk about it either.”

  My jaw dropped. “Cheated on him? Alessia Rossi cheated on him?” My hands curled into fists. If she were standing in front of me, I’d plant one of them in her pretty face. But, instead, I took a deep breath and exhaled. I wasn’t usually a violent person, but she brought out the worst in me. “How could she do that to him?”

  “Shit. I thought you knew,” Mason said. “Do me a favor and just keep it to yourself.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Sure. I won’t say a word.”

  Why had he lied to me?

  They broke up before he came back home last fall. When I asked him if he was okay with it, he told me the decision was mutual, that they wanted different things out of life. And I’d believed him. Probably because it was what I’d wanted to hear. I’d been so happy that after three years with Alessia, he’d finally figured out what I’d known all along. She wasn’t the right girl for him.

  And I wasn’t just saying that because I was in love with him. I’d met Alessia Rossi. The first time was two years ago when he brought her home for his brother Jude’s
wedding.

  She was beautiful. On the outside, anyway. A tall, willowy brunette with flawless olive skin, and big boobs, she was every guy’s fantasy—the opposite of me in every way. Whenever Jesse had looked at her, which was all the freaking time, you could tell that he really loved her. His love for her made him blind, that’s for sure.

  Alessia was one of those girls who pretended to be sweet and friendly, especially around guys, when really, she was cunning and manipulative.

  “Your friendship with Jesse is so sweet,” she’d cooed, but I could tell she had meant the opposite. Then to further cement my hatred for her, she’d said, “Jesse has such a big heart. Do you know how many charities he donates to?” She’d laughed like it was a bad thing instead of a good one. “I swear, he’s the biggest sucker for sick kids. Whenever kids message him and tell him they’re in the hospital and they’re his biggest fan, he’ll drop everything to visit them.”

  As if I was just another sick kid and not someone special to him. So yeah, I really, really couldn’t stand Alessia Rossi. And how he could have spent three years with that shrew was a mystery.

  She must have a magic vagina, that’s all I could say.

  “Have you been listening, Quinn?” I looked up at my brother Declan AKA the executive chef. His green eyes flashed in annoyance, and he speared a hand through his dark hair.