“Tate!” Grabbing onto her shoulders, I pull her off the groaning guy. She tries to fight my hold on her, desperately wanting to attack the asshole again. Shoving her back a few steps I yell, “Go!” and point toward her house. “I got this!”
She stands tall, her face serious. I can’t lie, I’m getting a hard on at seeing her so undone. She’s furious, reminding me of a Tate I once knew. I warm as feelings I’ve tried to keep at bay coming forward at once.
Not paying attention, a fist swings past my face from behind almost hitting Tate. Not getting the hint that he doesn’t mess with what’s mine.
“You wanna fight like a man, but you’re about to lose like a bitch!” I seethe.
Gritting my teeth I elbow check the fucker in the face, and he falls on his ass. My vision goes red, and my chest aches with a pain so fierce the only way to relieve it is to deliver it.
Stepping over the guy, my legs straddle him. Pulling him up by his hair I force him to look me in the eyes.
“Nobody touches what’s mine, do you hear me?” My voice comes out calm, but serious.
“That hippie bitch ain’t worth all this anyway,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he comes around.
“Good, leave and don’t come back. If you do, you will be rolling back to your homeboys in a wheelchair. Do you understand?”
He smiles in response, before spitting blood in my face.
My nostrils flare as I wipe the blood from my face with my free hand.
Having been done with his bullshit, I head butt him and he conks out.
My head pounds from the impact, causing me to blink a few times to catch my bearings. Sirens sound from up the block, catching my attention.
“Camden go!” Looking behind me Tate is standing on the steps, a look of worry wrinkling her face. “Go, if they find you here you’ll be all over the news.”
Her care isn’t lost on me. Maybe she really does feel like shit for what happened between us. I look down at the unconscious man, and he groans. He could come to and severely hurt Tate or someone else.
“I don’t care, I’m not leaving.” I rub at my sore forehead, staring her in the eyes.
So many unspoken things are said between our silent stare. I try to fight it, try to keep hold of the resentment toward her.
“I care, Camden. Go, if anyone catches wind that you were here this will blow up and become twisted in so many ways,” she continues, and the anger I was trying to hang on to... vanishes. I clench my eyes shut, mentally cursing myself.
Opening my eyes I glare at the guy who probably has a concussion. Maybe I shouldn’t stay. If I’m here when the cops show up this could be bad not only for me, but for Tate and her family. I have seen articles get so twisted and far from the truth that it’s just not right. I can’t do that to Tate and her family.
“Fine,” I whisper reluctantly. Getting some space from Tate is probably for the best anyhow.
Stepping over the unconscious asshole, I race toward my house covered in blood and bruises.
Chapter Twelve
17 Years Old
Tate
“I don’t think this is a good idea Camden.” Biting my nails I eye the green T-bird.
“Babe, how are you ever going to learn if you don’t try?” Camden opens the driver side door with a lazy grin spreading across his face. His blond hair is long and falling in his eyes effortlessly. Seriously, how did I get so lucky to land the ruggedly good-looking Camden Steel? Of course I don’t ask him that, his ego is big enough. I’ve had my permit for a while now, but with Mom’s death I just didn’t ever get around to getting my license. Camden has been up my ass about getting it.
“What if I wreck it?” I worry.
“Then you’ve added some character to it,” he laughs.
Knowing I’m not going to get out of this, I slide behind the wheel. The seats are clothed and soft, and the steering wheel is worn from previous drivers. It took Camden years of saving to get a car. He’s worked at a mechanic shop learning how to fix cars, and has saved every paycheck.
Turning the key in the ignition it starts with a clank.
“Now, just pull out and drive around the block some,” Camden suggests, climbing to the passenger seat.
Looking in the rearview mirror, I pull out slowly. The car bouncing when I hit the curb.
“Shit!” I hiss.
“It’s fine, I hit that curb all the time,” he lies, trying to make me feel better.
Putting the car in drive, I slowly head down our street.
“Turn left.” Camden points toward the main street.
“You sure?”
“You got this babe.” He grabs my thigh, giving it a squeeze. Butterflies fill my stomach having his palm on my bare skin.
“You have to move your hand, I can’t concentrate.” He laughs arrogantly, and moves it.
“Did any colleges write you back? I know you said your dad was having you fill some applications out.” Looking at him I grimace, not really wanting to talk about it. It’s a sore subject for everyone involved. “Yeah, I got a couple offers, Dad wants me to take the one in LA.”