A knock on the door and a male’s voice registered, making us both jerk our heads behind me.
Sam.
Sweat seeped out of my pores, and a sharp ache settled inside my dick.
Hell. No. This was not happening.
“I’m going to kill him,” I bit out and then yelled to the door. “Go downstairs!”
“We’re already late, man,” he pressed. “The car’s gassed up. Let’s go!”
How in the hell did I forget that he was going to be back? I should’ve locked the front door.
Dammit!
“I said wait downstairs, Sam!”
“Alright!” His shadow under the door disappeared.
Jesus Christ, my fucking heart was racing, I was so pissed. Tate held her arms over her chest, her eyes now embarrassed and alert.
I got off the bed and held my hands up to stop her.
“No, don’t get dressed,” I ordered. “I’m going to go get rid of him, and we’re finishing this.”
“You’re racing tonight?” she asked quietly, sitting up.
I slipped on some jeans. “Not anymore.”
Screw the race. I didn’t have the money to pay my father tomorrow, but right now, I felt like nothing could tear me apart or take me down.
Everything but her faded away.
“Jared, go. It’s fine,” she whispered, looking so different than she did a few moments ago as she stood and slipped back into her clothes. I wanted to know what was going on in her head, because it looked like she was thinking again.
I didn’t give her a chance to ruin this, though. Lifting her up, I plopped her back down on my dresser top where we could be eye to eye.
“Races aren’t important, Tate,” I growled softly, leaning into her lips. “There’s nowhere else I want to be than with you.”
Her eyes, a little happy and a little hesitant, shifted sideways before coming back to meet mine.
“Take me with you then,” she suggested, a smile teasing her lips.
“Take you with me?” I tossed it around in my head. I could earn the money I needed, and she’d be coming home with me afterwards. “Alright, go get something warmer on, and I’ll come get you when we’re ready.” I patted her thigh and walked towards the door. “And after the race,” I turned to look at her, “we’ll come back here and finish this.”
It wasn’t a request.
Her eyes, sparkling and warm, played me as she tried to hide a grin.
I sent Sam to the track ahead of us and squeezed in another shower before I picked up Tate.
Another cold one.
“You look good there.” My voice carried over Volbeat’s Heaven Nor Hell as I glanced at Tate sitting in the passenger’s seat.
She was at my side, in my ride. It felt right.
“I look better in your seat,” she countered, and the memory of her racing my car came flooding back.
Yeah, I couldn’t argue with her on that.
And I damn well wasn’t forgetting how she’d tasted a half hour ago, either.
I couldn’t wait to get her back to my house, but then I saw all of the lights ahead, the cars and spectators, and in an instant, back at my house is exactly where I wanted to steer us.
Every fucking person in town was here from the looks of it. I chewed the side of my mouth, worrying about who we’d run into and what Tate would expect.
I’d always showed up to these things alone.
You’ll always be alone, because you know that’s better.
Girls liked public displays. Hand holding, hugs, cutesy shit I didn’t do, and while I would happily get territorial in private, I didn’t like giving the impression that I cared about anything in front of other people.
The crowd of cars, the eyes on us as we drove into the Loop, everything felt like a divider in the car between Tate and me.
The Volbeat song ended and another came on as my Boss crawled up the track, and I just let out a breath and decided to do what I always do.
Nothing.
Tate and I were still up in the air, and I hoped to clear that up later, but for now…things would remain simple.
After I put the car in neutral and pulled up the e-brake, Tate popped her seatbelt and reached for the door.
“Hey.” I grabbed her hand, and she turned to look at me. “I like to keep my head in the game here. If I don’t act very friendly, it has nothing to do with you, okay?”
Her eyes dropped for a split second, and I immediately wanted to take it back.
She looked back up and shrugged her shoulders. “You don’t have to hold my hand.”
I’d done it again.
Pushed her away. Hurt her.
And now her wall was up, just like it had been the past three years.
Shit.
With my father, I had to be guarded. I had to stand alone, strong. It became too hard after that horrible summer to act one way with people I didn’t trust and another way with people I held close, so I stayed distant as a rule.
And then after a while, I didn’t have a one goddamn clue how to be any other way.
I watched her climb out of the car, turning her back and keep whatever she wanted to say inside.
We were more alike than she thought.
Turning down the radio, I hopped out of the car and walked around to the front to talk to my opponent, Bran Davidson, and Zack.
Tate had walked off, and I shifted my eyes, scanning the crowd to see where she stood.
Son of a bitch.
Ben stood off to the side, and she went straight for him.
Something bitter swirled in my stomach, and I didn’t even feel the chill in the night air.
I shook my head, pissed off, and looked back to the two men who were talking to me.
“The odds are in my favor, man,” Bran teased and knocked me on the arm.
I tried not to let my decaying mood seep out in my tone. Bran was a good guy, and we were friends.
“Yeah, great,” I mumbled. “That means my win will pay off big.”
“I have a Camaro,” he pointed out like I was too stupid to realize what he was driving.
“A nearly thirty year old Camaro,” I specified, stealing glances at Tate and Ben.
They hadn’t gotten physically close. They weren’t even facing each other.
But she was smiling.
He was making her laugh, and my eyes narrowed on her like she needed a big, fat reminder of whose mouth had been on her less than an hour ago.
Tate and I were both wearing black hoodies, but while she had her hands stuffed into her front pocket to keep warm, I was sweating and ready to tear mine off.
Just calm down.
Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe they were just talking, or maybe they weren’t.
What the fuck did I care?
I wasn’t losing sleep over what may or may not be going through her head.
To hell with it.
“Clear the track!” Zack shouted, and I headed to my car without looking at anyone.
Tuning my iPod to Godsmack’s I Stand Alone—poetic, I thought—I revved my engine and let the noise of everyone around me drown out the ache in my chest.
My head back, I closed my eyes and let the music take control of my brain.