Page 10 of Illicit

But he was none of those things to me.

He was my friend before he was my obsession.

In fact, there’s nothing about him I wasn’t obsessed with.

If I’m honest with myself, I still am.

It was innocent in the beginning. I was obsessed with the man-boy with no parents, no family, and a life so different from mine, I didn’t understand it.

I was obsessed with the way he spoke. How he dropped the F-bomb every other word when Mom never allowed cursing in our home. Or how he never complained about what we had for dinner, because everyone complains about something when it comes to dinner every once in a while.

And I was obsessed with the way he sat back in a room and took everything in. That was when his eyes were haunted and his scar wasn’t even a scar yet.

He thought no one was watching.

But I was.

Dad always says I was born with curiosity running hot through my veins. Mom always said I was the quietest learner she’d ever seen—that once I soaked it in, I never let it go. She said I was hungry for information.

When it came to Rocco Monroe, I was ravenous.

He’s been a constant in my life since I was a girl. Somehow, he fit in with the tight group of government agents and their families even though there’s nothing about him that should fit.

Sure, he’s changed over the years. He’s even molded himself into them—a blend of Brax, Micah, and even King. He looks up to my dad and worships my mom.

Rocco Monroe is good to the bone.

But, still, he’s dangerous.

I’ve never loved and hated anyone more. If I could unlearn everything about him, I would.

But the word obsession packs a punch for a reason. It’s strong and impossible to fight.

More than anything, I was obsessed with the way Rocco always paid attention to me. Whether it was a board game he was sick of playing, movies he pretended to hate, or taking me and my friends to get ice cream when he came home from college before I could drive. He’d play Words With Friends with me when he was away at school even though he could’ve been doing all kinds of other college things, but he knew it was one of the only apps my parents allowed us to have. And he knew I liked words and loved to read and write.

He did it even though he hated it, and I usually won.

Rocco never said no to me.

Until the one time when he did.

And it happened twenty-two months ago when my obsession turned less-than innocent.

That was the last time I saw Rocco.

Until today.

It seems alcohol and obsessions are a dangerous concoction for Teagan Mariana Coleman.

A no from Rocco was too much. It’s easy to avoid another human when you’re an adult and live in different states. It doesn’t matter where your home base is or if they are your found family.

The day Rocco said no to me was it.

He’d never hurt me on purpose, and that made it worse.

I’ve only been to New Orleans a couple of times. The first was the spring semester of my sophomore year. Before my parents dropped me off in my small college town in Mississippi, we came all the way to NOLA as a big, fat family to say goodbye to Rocco when he followed in the footsteps of Brax, Micah, King, and even my dad, and became a DEA agent.

The next time was when I made a bad choice with a fake ID. That was the day he broke me.

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