Then, to my surprise, he did the same to Trent. For a second, I thought maybe T would rebuff him, the way he looked down at the outstretched hand. But then he straightened and slid his palm against Lorhaven’s.
“You ever need some backup dealing with the douche nozzles that pounded your face, call me. Some guys just deserve a good ass kicking,” Lorhaven said as they spoke.
“I got it handled,” Trent replied.
“I figured.”
In the wide doorway of the garage, Lorhaven stopped and turned back. “Maybe let him down easy,” he said to me.
I half smiled. “Done.”
Trent made a sound. “Drew’s too old for him anyway.”
Again, that sad smile crossed his features. “Arrow’s a lot older than the calendar. Wise beyond his years in a lot of ways.”
He jogged out into the rainstorm, not even wincing when the splattering rain attacked his shoulders and head. I watched him until he disappeared into his Corvette and the headlights cut across the pavement.
Trent leaned back against the Fastback, his eyes focused on me. “That was the last thing I expected today.”
“No shit.” I agreed.
But as far as surprises went, it was pretty good one.
Not only did I have the people I lived with and Trent by my side, but now I had an ally in the racing world.
An ally in the form of my rival.
Which, oddly, made the fact he offered us alliance a lot more legit.
Today was a good day for me. So much support. So much acceptance. It wouldn’t all be like this. I wasn’t so na?ve to think that.
However, I wasn’t as alone as maybe I’d thought.
Trent
That confrontation with Lorhaven pushed me off the ledge I was teetering on. The second he looked at Drew and me and the realization hit his eyes, I stepped.
No. I didn’t just step.
I leapt.
Something in me snapped. It was an audible sound inside my head.
I was reminded exactly who I was.
Exactly who I wanted to be.
I was strong. I was capable. I might not be what everyone thought, but I was better.
Possessive and protective. That was us.
There was no turning back now. We’d come too far. My love was too deep. The point of no return was an interesting place. It was a state of mind, an acceptance of the future and a vow to leave the past exactly where it belonged.
Behind me.
All that was left now was to move forward.
The week went fast. I had to admit watching Con and his three little accomplices squirm was a special kind of fun. Some might say I was playing with my food…
But didn’t they deserve it?
Did knowing punishment was coming, but not knowing when or how, make it worse?
By the looks on their faces every time I saw them… oh yeah.
Those weeks Con spent chirping in my ear like an annoying little insect, whispering dirty words and intentions… Now I was giving him a dose of that, too. Every chance I got.
On Wednesday night, we had a frat party. Not a new occurrence. But this was a special party because my brothers were using it as a recon mission, trying to figure out who jumped me.
And me? I was very hospitable.
I handed out beers, taking care to make sure I gave one each to my four special friends. Ah, the dubious way they stared at those beers, silently wondering what I’d put in them when no one was looking.
Of course I stood there and waited for them to drink them. There was no way they could get out of it. What kind of blasphemy would it be to deny a personally poured beverage from your leader?
Suckers.
I admit I thought about slipping a little special something in their drinks.
But almost as soon as the idea occurred, I nixed it. Something like that was done to Ivy once. That shit wasn’t funny, and doing it would only pull me down to the level of the creep who did it to her.
Plus, I’d rather they be conscious and alert for my payback.
By the weekend, the bruises on my face and body were yellowed and fading. The cut on my head no longer needed a butterfly. My ribs still hurt, but at least I didn’t favor my opposite side as much.
I gave some credit for my healing to the Wolves coach. Even though technically the season was over, he was still committed to his players.
I walked into his office busted, and he made it his mission to make sure every time I walked out, I was a little bit stronger. It was the football way of life.
Busted happened. Healing happened, too.
The Wolves had a damn good medical and training program for the players. I had access to the trainers, the physical therapist, and all the equipment in the state-of-the-art gym.
I’d seen the trainer three times this week. The therapist dropped in the first day to help write out a plan and approved exercises that would help accelerate the healing, but still be safe and not make my rib area worse.
Coach asked me once what happened to me. I gave him the same exact story I told the frat. I knew he smelled my bullshit, but he didn’t call me on it.
Once word got around I was training in the gym, some of the other players came around, and we’d all work out together. So in a way, getting jumped was a blessing.