"Not going to be a problem," he says and speeds up. "Twice around the rink. The finish line is the bench where Zane is sitting."
Saying nothing, I shift my skating into a second gear. Jace doesn't give an inch, also speeding up. I fall behind until he needs to maneuver around the teenagers. His size slows him down, and I take the lead. I'm near the finishing line when Jace passes me and wins.
"Fucker," I growl.
"Don't be a sore loser."
"I hope your balls rot off from untreated gonorrhea."
The teenagers giggle when they pass us, leaving me to glare at their backs.
Jace leans down until our noses are an inch apart. His warm breath smells like pizza. I both want to kiss and hit him.
"Rematch?" he offers.
I smile without thinking. "Hell yeah."
We share a smile, and the race begins. For the next half hour, we challenge each other in different races around the rink. I manage to forget how much I hate him. We're back to the ease of our childhood. Jace is again the damaged boy who lost his family and discovered a new one. Struggling with his grief and fear, the younger Jace wasn't perfect. Yet, he made me unbelievably happy until the day he broke my heart.
I don't know where the siblings are by the time we find ourselves alone in the rink. Jace doesn't speak before wrapping me in his arms and kissing me softly. I hate him for wanting me but not enough to push him away. His lips suck gently at mine. Suddenly, my eyes burn with tears.
Skating away from him, I can't speak. My words won't sound right. Nine months of questions rise up in me, but I refuse to face the answers I assume he'll share with them.
"See you tomorrow," I say, skating out of the rink.
Jace doesn't follow after me. He remains in the rink, skating in a circle. After returning my skates, I find the siblings in the adjoining arcade. My worry is they'll ask questions or tease me about Jace. Instead, they only want to talk about which one of them smells the most like feet.
Before I disappear out of the building, I glance back to find Jace still circling the rink. I can't imagine what he's thinking. Until he kissed me, we felt like the old Sawyer and Jace. Once again, he made me happy. I hope he will again.
Chapter 12
Jace
When I Call Your Name
In the nine months apart from Sawyer, I bulked up by thirty pounds. Judd told me I was too pretty and soft to intimidate anyone. He and Vaughn trained me every day until my shoulders and arms were bigger than theirs. Two days before Kirk's death, Vaughn looked at me and declared I still looked too soft to intimidate anyone. Judd said my problem wasn't size, and he wasn't smart enough to figure out the answer.
After getting back to the hotel, I can't sleep. Not after both kissing Sawyer and seeing her cry. Rather than crash for the night, I work out in the small hotel gym. No matter how long and hard I exercise, I can't shake my need.
Sawyer is mine, and I want her back.
Being friends isn't enough. I don't need her just not to hate me. I want her back in my bed. She was happy with me, and I can fix what I broke. No matter how long it takes, I'm getting my woman back.
Once I admit what I've known for nine months, I sleep like a frigging baby for the rest of the night.
The next morning, I'm dying to see Sawyer. I know she won't be thrilled to see me, but I remember Harlow's words. I need to wait for Sawyer to find her way to the answer I'm offering her.
Meeting them for breakfast at Denny's, I find a grumpy Sawyer. Less hostile than depressed, she won't talk to anyone. The twins don't care. They're too busy bugging Zane about his woman.
After breakfast, Zane disappears while the twins drive all over town with Sawyer in tow. I'm her bodyguard, meaning I follow the women on my Harley.
They stop at one place for five minutes to talk to someone before driving a block away to talk to someone else. This process takes two very hot hours. Sawyer stares out of the window the entire time, and I wonder what she's thinking. My guess is Kirk.
We finally arrive at the Hidey-hole, and I'm desperate for a cold drink. Collapsing in a chair, I take the beer a pretty blonde brings. She smiles real sweet at me, making me feel amazing. Then she turns to a half conscious, stinky guy with no front teeth and smiles really sweet at him. There goes the ego.
I'm more interested if Sawyer will smile at me again. At the rink, she laughed in her raspy, no holds barred way. I love her laugh and let my mind wander to the times I made her happy over the years. She's especially ticklish behind the knees.
While the twins bounce around nearby to Brad Paisley's American Saturday Night, Sawyer disappears into a hallway leading to the restrooms. I'm waiting for her to return when the pretty blonde waitress smiles real sweet at the newcomers.
"You're him," a big blond guy says to me.
"And you're you."
The guy's platinum blonde woman is the kind of chick who starts fights over misunderstandings because she isn't patient enough to start them over real problems. Snapping her gum, she sizes me up and leans into her man.
"Kick his ass, Mac."