Until You

Chapter 28

“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.

The lyrics stole made me feel strong again.

The rhythm took away my father’s voice.

Everything disappeared.

Until I opened my eyes and immediately let out a groan.

Shit.

Piper.

She stood in front of my car, twisting ever so slightly, showing off her body in her short skirt and thin, dark blue tank top.

The crowd cheered, and it hit me that she was the starter, sending us on our way.

Piper wasn’t a chore to look at, and she knew it.

She also knew that we were done, but that didn’t stop her from cutting into my line of sight every chance she got.

She smiled and headed to my side of the car, while I tried to hide my annoyed look.

Leaning just inside my open window, she tsked like I had something to learn. “When you finish with that blonde, you know where to find me.”

My bemused gaze stayed forward, off Piper. “If I finish with her, that is.”

“You will.” Her voice was playful and cocky. “Good girls taste like shit after a while.”

I grinned, actually amused. If she only knew…

I couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of Tate.

Looking softly into her light brown eyes, I tipped her chin up with my finger. “Don’t hold your breath, Piper.” And I dropped my hand, turning my eyes back to the track ahead. “Now get off my car and send us.”

“Ahh!” she screamed, her growl scraping my ear drums as I jerked my head to the side.

Piper’s body flailed backwards, and that’s when I noticed Tate, yanking Piper by her long hair away from the car.

What. The. Hell?

“Tate,” I warned, climbing out of the car.

She shoved Piper ahead of her, and I watched wide-eyed as Tate just stood there, staring Piper down and clenching her fists.

Her breaths were long and deep. Not nervous.

Just really, really pissed off, and I brought my hand up to my lips to cover my smile.

I shouldn’t be this proud of her for picking a fight.

But she was jealous, and that was turning me on.

She was also reacting, too.

Big time.

And I immediately looked to the crowd, foolishly thinking that they may not be watching every second of this.

I liked a low profile, and Tate was broadcasting loud and clear that I was hers.

That I was hers.

“You bitch!” Piper snarled. “What the fuck is your problem?”

And my heart skipped a beat when Piper charged Tate. About to reach out to grab one of them or both of them, I stopped short.

Tate swept Piper’s foot out from under her, and my eyes widened as Piper fell flat on her ass on the dry dirt track.

Yeah, Tate’s doesn’t need help. I shook my head in shock.

The crowd was going crazy, chanting for a fight and celebrating with whistles and cheers. I didn’t think they knew who they were cheering for. They just wanted a fight.

Tate bent down, clapping twice in Piper’s stunned face, and spoke loudly. “Now that I have your attention, I just want you to know—he’s not interested in you.”

I folded my lips between my teeth.

Such a handful.

Turning to me, she let a deep breath, and her eyes calmed down.

She walked up and was the only thing I saw. Piper was forgotten.

“I’m not wallpaper,” she said quietly, and I knew I’d hurt her feelings in the car before.

Tate wasn’t casual.

If she was in, she was in. If she was out, she was out. And I needed to man up.

She took out the fossil necklace and pooled it in my hand. “Don’t hide from me, and don’t ask me to hide,” she said for only me to hear.

I tightened my fist around the necklace.

She was in.

Tipping her chin up, I kissed her lightly and nearly choked on the urge to take her in my arms right here and now.

“Good luck,” she whispered, and her warm eyes leveled me as she walked back towards the crowd.

“Tate?” I called out before I even climbed back into my car.

She turned around, raising her eyebrows as she stuck her hands into her hoodie pocket.

“You’re with me, baby,” I told her. “Get in.”

Not waiting to even see the look on her face, I slid into my seat and leaned over to open the passenger side door.

After my win, I forwent the traditional bonfire after the race and dragged Tate out of there, never before in such a hurry to get back home.

Not many people were going to be clueless as to what we were going to go do, either. Immediately after crossing the finish line, I’d taken all of two fucking seconds to snatch off Tate’s and my seatbelts and drag her into my lap for a kiss.

The race had kicked up my blood pressure. Feeling the energy of excitement as she sat next to me got my muscles and nerves pumping with adrenaline.

Racing had always been enjoyable, but with my father bleeding me for every bit of cash I had, the thrill of it had long since worn off. Now I raced as a way to make money, and Tate had changed that tonight.

As I raced, I had a hard time keep my eyes on the track. Her delicious little gasps as we rounded turns were addicting.

My blood finally ran hot for this again, and I never wanted to go back to the Loop without Tate.

“Jared?” she piped up from the passenger seat as we made our way back to my house. “Where do you go on the weekends?”

The weekends.

I narrowed my eyes. A jumble of thoughts swirled in my head, but I couldn’t grab onto just one. My stomach hollowed out, and with every breath I wanted to bolt from the car.

My father in prison. I couldn’t tell her about that.

Jax in a foster home, and his mother some barely legal teenager that our father had preyed upon. My mother, too, for that matter. What would she think?

The beatings. The basement. My betrayal, leaving Jax behind.

The bile crept up my throat, and I could barely swallow it down much less tell her the whole disgusting story.

“Just out of town.” I kept my reply short and simple.

“But where?”

“What does it matter?” My bite wasn’t a cover. She needed to shut up.

The past was embarrassing and dirty, and no one except Jax knew what had gone down that summer. If I could erase it from his memory, I would.

Yanking the steering wheel to the right, I bottomed out as I hit the dip turning into the driveway. Tate grabbed hold of the handle on the roof to steady herself as I sped up my driveway.

“Why can Piper know, and I can’t?” she pressed, her tone more urgent and defensive.

She knew about Piper?

“Fuck, Tate,” I gritted out and hopped out of the car, briefly registering that my mom’s car was in the open garage. “I don’t want to talk about it.” And that was the truth. Not today, not ever. I wouldn’t even know where to start. If she really wanted to move on with me, then she’d let it go.

“You don’t want to talk about anything!” She followed me out and yelled over the hood. “What do you think’s going to happen?”

Happen? She might see me for who I really was. That’s what could happen.

“What I do with my free time is my business. Trust me or not.”

“Trust?” She scrunched up her eyes and looked at me with disdain. “You lost mine a long time ago. But if you try trusting me, then maybe we can be friends again.”

Friends? We would never be just friends again.

Push her down or push her away, I told myself.

“I think we’ve moved beyond friends, Tate,” I sneered with a sour smile, “but if you want to play that game, then fine. We can have a sleepover, but there will be fucking involved.”

She inhaled a sharp breath, and her shoulders straightened. Her eyes stared at me with hurt and shock, and I’d fucking done it again.

Why did I keep doing this shit? I could’ve just let her down easily and walked away.

But no. In the moment, I power on with anger and fight.

But either way, I still saw the same look in her sad, tear-filled blue eyes, and I wanted to grab her and kiss her eyes, her nose, and her lips like it would erase every horrible thing I’ve ever said and done.

“Tate…” I started rounding the car, but she stomped up to me and shoved something into my stomach.

I latched onto it and watched helplessly as she ran across our yards and into her house.

No.

Staring after her—at the now darkened porch and closed front door—it was a minute or two before I felt the paper in my hand.

As I looked down, my mouth went dry, and my heart started pounding painfully in my chest.

It was a picture.

Of me.

When I was fourteen.

I was bruised and bloodied from the visit with my father, and Tate had found it at the bottom of a box underneath my bed.

She hadn’t come to wish me “Happy Birthday” tonight.

I’d caught her snooping.

And I’d just pushed her away for not telling her what she already knew.