Aflame

  I cleared my throat. “So where’s our mother?”

  Jax stuck his hands in his pockets. “Doctor’s appointment.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded and turned around, starting to lead us out of the airport. “She’s perfect. When you get close to term you have to go in every week, apparently. You should see her, man.” He laughed under his breath. “She’s shopping like crazy and eating ice cream after every meal, but she’s on top of the world.”

  I followed, seeing Pasha coming toward us, having just come back in.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that she was pregnant?” I prodded Jax.

  I knew why my mom had kept it from me, but Jax could’ve warned me.

  He shook his head, smirking at me. “Dude, it’s not my business to tell you your mom is pregnant. Sorry.” By his amused tone, I could tell he wasn’t sorry. “Besides, she really didn’t want you to find out over the phone. That’s why she’s been trying to get you home.”

  A pang of guilt started jabbing at me from several directions when I thought of all the shit I was going to have to smooth over. Answering my mother’s questions, Madoc’s silent treatment, and getting reacquainted with my brother . . .

  “Um . . . hi.” Juliet turned around as we kept walking, looking at Pasha. “Are you with Jared?”

  I swung my bag over my shoulder, looking to Juliet.

  “Sorry,” I shot out. “You guys, this is Pasha.” I jerked my chin at the girl next to me. “Pasha, this is my brother, Jax, and his girlfriend, Juliet.”

  “Hey,” Pasha said casually.

  Juliet shook Pasha’s hand quickly and then turned around, looking confused. I caught her sideways glance at Jax.

  “Hi, Pasha.” Jax gave her a quick shake and then glanced to me quickly before crossing the walkway to the parking garage. “Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone, man?”

  I let out a bitter laugh but was cut off.

  “Aw,” Pasha cooed as we headed into the parking garage. “You didn’t tell him about us, honey?” And she kneaded my biceps with her hot pink fingernails.

  I rolled my eyes. “My assistant, guys.” I tossed my bag in the trunk of my old Mustang, now Jax’s car. “She’s just my assistant. That’s all.”

  Jax swung his pointer finger between us as he walked to the driver’s side. “So you two aren’t . . . ?”

  “Ewwww,” Pasha grumbled, disgust written all over her face.

  “So you’re gay, then?” he shot back.

  I snorted, shaking with laughter as I opened the passenger side door for the girls.

  Pasha planted her hands on her hips. “How did . . . what . . . ?” she stammered, looking to me accusingly.

  I held up my hands, feigning innocence.

  Jax narrowed his eyes on her over the hood. “When you think about the women who aren’t interested in my brother, it pretty much just leaves the lesbians.”

  Pasha grumbled and climbed into the backseat behind Juliet. I slammed the door and headed to the driver’s side.

  Jax straightened, seeing me coming. “This is my car now.” He knew what I was doing.

  I pinned him with a pointed look. “And I don’t ride. I’ll wait for you to come to terms with that.”

  After about three seconds, he realized he wasn’t going to win. He finally let out a hard sigh and walked his ass around to the passenger side.

  Climbing in, I started the engine and stilled, slowly easing back into the seat. The old, familiar rumble of the engine reminded me of a time so long ago. Back when I was the king of a small pond. When I thought I knew everything.

  The long, late-night drives, my music filling the small space, as I planned my life around Tate and how I was going to torment her in the only universe that mattered.

  An image of her flashed in my mind, walking to school. Her back would straighten when she’d hear my engine coming, and I’d blow past her, seeing her hair whip in the wind in my rearview mirror. I almost wished she was in town this summer.

  I’d give almost anything to make her feel me again.

  Not to mention, she’d turned my best friend against me. He wasn’t talking to me, and I knew it was because of her.

  I buckled up. “So let’s have it,” I told Jax. “Where’s Madoc?”

  He hesitated, speaking softly. “Around,” he caged. “He commutes to his summer internship here in the city, but he’s still staying at his house in Shelburne Falls.”

  “Good.” I nodded, remembering that it was early Friday afternoon. “I’m going to hit his house before we go home.”

  “Dude,” Jax urged as I drove out of the garage. “I don’t think Madoc’s going to be up for—”

  “Screw it,” I gritted out. “It’s been two years. I’m sick of his bullshit.”

  Chapter 3

  Tate

  Summer breaks no longer exist once you reach college. Maybe you start taking a summer class, or you pick up a summer job, or you have a reading list or an extra credit to pick up, but free time slowly starts to ebb away, and before you know it, you’re doing one thing a day that you like and fifteen that you hate.

  Welcome to adulthood, my father would say.

  I should be grateful. All in all it wasn’t so bad. Opportunity abounded in my life, and anyone else would be gracious and appreciative. My education would secure my future.

  I had it made. I’d be a doctor someday. Maybe close to home. Maybe far away. I’d undoubtedly marry and have children. The house and car payments would come. The stock portfolios to ensure a comfortable retirement. Maybe I’d have a time-share in the Bahamas. I’d laugh at my children’s school plays and hug them when they were scared.

  My patients would hopefully bring a feeling of worth into my life. I would help some and lose others. I was prepared for that. I would comfort many and cry with a few. I would take everything in stride and with the knowledge that I did my very best.

  My professional life would be devoted to curing illnesses. My private life would be the dutiful spouse and mother.

  Patients and patience.

  And up until two years ago, I was excited for all of it.

  I had wanted all of it.

  “There you are.” Ben took my hand, brushing a kiss on my cheek. “They’ve been paging you for five minutes.”

  I smiled, placing a hand on his chest and leaning in. “Sorry,” I whispered, kissing him again, gently on the lips this time. “I couldn’t exactly drop the bedpan, could I?” I joked, pulling back and setting my charts down at the nurse’s station.

  The corners of his bottom lip turned down at the disgusting thought. “Good point,” he acquiesced. “Besides,” I continued, “I’m a woman worth waiting for. You know that.”

  He lifted his chin and hooded his blue eyes. “I’m still deciding,” he taunted.

  “Ouch.” I laughed. “Maybe Jax was right after all then.”

  His face fell, the humor gone. “What did that guy say about me now?” he grumbled.

  I grinned, pulling my blue scrub shirt over my head, leaving me in my white tank top. “He said that you’re awesome,” I teased.

  Ben cocked an eyebrow, knowing better.

  Jax, my ex-boyfriend’s brother, didn’t like anyone that tried to take his brother’s place in my life. Good thing I didn’t need his approval.

  I shrugged and kept going. “But he does think that I am far too much for you to handle.”

  His eyes bugged out, and he smiled, challenge accepted. Sliding his hand around the back of my neck, he stepped up and crashed his lips down on mine.

  The warmth of his body surrounded me, and I relaxed into the kiss, savoring the hunger I felt rolling off of him.

  He wanted me.

  I might not be reeling from need of him, but he made me feel in
control, and I definitely liked that.

  Pulling away, he smiled like he’d just proved a point.

  I licked my lips, tasting his Spearmint gum. Ben always had a flavor and taste I could pin down. Mint or cinnamon on the lips, cologne on the clothes, Paul Mitchell in the hair . . . and it occurred to me that I didn’t really know what he smelled like without all of that. Cologne preferences change over time. So do shampoos and breath mints. What would he smell like on my pillow? Would it change or always be constant?

  He gestured to the black container and package of wooden chopsticks on top of the counter. “I brought you dinner. It’s sushi,” he pointed out. “Salmon is supposed to be, like, some super brain food.” He waved a hand in front of us. “And you’ve been burning the midnight oil, so I thought you could use it.”

  “Thank you.” I tried to act excited, knowing it was the thought that counted. I hated sushi, but he didn’t know that. “But I’m actually about to get off work. I thought I told you that.”

  He narrowed his eyes, thinking, and then they went wide. “Yes, you did.” He let out a breath and shook his head. “I’m sorry. Your schedule changes so much, I forgot.”

  “It’s okay.” I unwrapped my messy bun, feeling instant relief as the cursed bobby pins were removed. When I wasn’t working at the hospital—giving sponge baths and administering Band-Aids—I was at the library getting ahead on my reading list for my fall classes, or at the Loop, blowing off steam. I was a hard girl to pin down lately, but Ben rolled with it.

  “I can still eat it,” I offered, not wanting to be ungracious. “And now I don’t need to worry about dinner, so you see? You really are a lifesaver.”

  He grabbed hold of my waist and pulled me in, kissing my forehead and nose, always gentle.

  Ben and I had been seeing each other for about six weeks, although most of that time was long-distance. During spring break, we were both home, and one day I’d lost control of my car on a rainy, slick road.

  And I’d slammed right into his car. As it was parked at a curb right in front of him and all of his friends. Yeah, great moment.

  But I played it off. Got out of the car barking at him about his lousy driving and that he better have good insurance or I was calling the cops.

  Everyone laughed, and he asked me out.

  We spent some time together, went back to school to finish the semester, and reconnected when we came home for summer break.

  Since we’d gone to high school together and actually had a date senior year that ended pretty badly, it was kind of fun to catch up after so much time had passed. We got to know each other, and I enjoyed the time we spent together. It wasn’t pedal to the metal from day one. Ben was slow.

  And calm.

  It was always when I was ready. Not when he was ready.

  And I was nowhere near ready yet, so that was a relief.

  And the best part? He wasn’t intense. He didn’t get angry or rude. He didn’t have problems that would make me unhappy, and I didn’t have to worry that he would have so much of a pull on me that I would make decisions based on him.

  He never pushed or challenged me, and I liked that I dominated the relationship. I never took advantage of it, but I knew I was the one in control. It was comfortable, but more than that, it was easy. I was never surprised with Ben.

  He was safe.

  He’d finished his bachelor’s degree in economics at UMass in May and would be going on to graduate school at Princeton in the fall. I’d be heading to Stanford for medical school, so we were looking at more time apart. I wasn’t sure if the relationship would continue, but right now, I was content to keep things light and easy.

  He’d already hinted to me that I should move to New Jersey with him and apply to medical school there or somewhere at least in the vicinity. I’d said no. I’d compromised my college plans once—for a good reason—but I was sticking to the plan this time. Come hell or high water, I was going to California.

  “Will you be at my race tonight?” I asked softly.

  “Aren’t I always?” he answered, and I knew there was a sigh that he’d held back.

  Ben hated that I raced. He said he hated the crowd, but I knew it was more than that. He didn’t want the girl he was dating racing the boys while he sat on the sidelines.

  But even though I liked Ben, I wasn’t quitting the Loop, either.

  Wisely, he never asked me to stop—just suggested—and I expected that he thought it was something I would grow out of or give up when I went off to Stanford.

  But I wouldn’t stop for anyone or anything. I wouldn’t stop until I was ready.

  Madoc whined about my safety, my father chided me about the car costs when I needed parts or repairs, and at least a dozen assholes made snide remarks when I climbed into my car every weekend to race against them.

  But none of it made a difference. That’s the beauty of knowing your own mind. No one tells you what you can and can’t do. Once you’re sure of something, it really is that easy.

  “I’ll meet you at the track, then.” I circled his neck and leaned in for a kiss, his gentle lips leaving a feathery kiss on mine. “I need to shower and clean up after I leave here.”

  He leaned over, nuzzling my ear. “And then after the race, you’re mine, right?”

  I could hear the playfulness in his voice, but my heart still skipped a beat anyway.

  Mine.

  A shiver ran down my arms, and I closed my eyes, feeling a hot mouth move across my cheek and then his breath glide over my lips.

  I want to feel what’s mine. What’s always been mine.

  Heat fanned across my face, and need gripped me low in my stomach. His lips brushed mine, never taking, just teasing, and I inhaled a shaky breath as excitement burned under my skin after so long.

  It wasn’t Ben.

  It wasn’t his lips or his breath that I dreamed about.

  I want to touch you.

  I pushed up on my tiptoes, pressing my body into his and pulling him close. Jared.

  And just like that, I melted at his memory.

  “It’s too late to beg,” Jared whispers as his hand threads through the back of my hair, gripping it tight as he pins me against the wall of the janitor’s closet. “This is what you get when you eye-fuck me in the middle of class.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and squirm as he pushes his hand inside the front of my jeans and dips his fingers inside me, bringing the wetness back out to swirl around my clit.

  “Oh, God,” I whimper, my breath shaking as I clutch his shoulders. “Jared.”

  He leans in, and I can feel his breath hot across my lips. “I want you naked, Tate,” he commands. “Everything off. Now.”

  I brushed my nose against his neck, smelling Ben’s exotic cologne instead of Jared’s woodsy body wash with that hint of spice I still remembered.

  I lowered myself back down to my feet, releasing Ben.

  Dammit.

  Why did the memory of him get me more excited than anyone else could in the flesh? Ben treated me better. His easy demeanor was no threat to me. There were no expectations, and the conversation was safe.

  But old habits die hard.

  I craved dirty words and rough hands, possessiveness and everything that wasn’t Ben’s style. I missed being the breath in someone’s body and being craved like water.

  It was dangerous, but that was young love, and once I had been nearly consumed with it.

  “You okay?” Ben asked, looking concerned.

  I gave him a casual smile. “I’m fine,” I assured him, leaning in for a quick kiss. I might not feel the fireworks with Ben that I wanted yet, but there was no rush. Never any pressure.

  I pulled back to say good-bye, but he dove in for another quick peck on the lips before walking back down the hallway, leaving me smiling at his easy attitude.
r />   After logging out on the computer, I jogged to the locker room for my backpack and keys, dumping my scrub shirt in the laundry basket which left me in my super-stylish matching blue pants.

  The wind was calling, and I couldn’t wait to get outside. I could already feel the chills of anticipation running through my body.

  I sent a mass text to Madoc, Fallon, Juliet, and Jax, letting them know I’d be skipping dinner to tweak a few last things on my G8 before the race tonight. I’d meet them at the track.

  As soon as I walked through the automatic doors, I broke into a run and couldn’t help the laughter that escaped. I’m sure I looked ridiculous, giggling like a child.

  But I loved my damn car. It was fast and hot and all mine.

  I’d owned my Pontiac G8 since my senior year of high school, and I would admit it only to myself, but it owned more of my heart than Ben did right now. Driving was like a drug. Climb in, sit down, shut up, and hold on. It was the only time in my life when I felt like I was moving but also didn’t need to work to accomplish anything. I was going places but not really getting anywhere. For hours on end, I’d drive and listen to music—lost in my own head—but I always seemed to find myself, too. My shower used to be the one place I’d escape to. Now it was my car.

  Sliding into the driver’s seat, I threw my backpack—loaded with some books and a change of clothes—onto the passenger seat and set down the sushi I was probably going to give to Madoc. I started the car, rolling down the windows and jamming up the music. Saliva’s “Click Click Boom” raged out of the speakers, vibrating off my body, and I inhaled the sweet, early evening summer air. It was a little after five, but the sun still shone bright in the sky, and the warm breeze blew through the windows, tickling my hair.

  I tightened my hands around the leather wheel, cruising down the two lane highway well over the speed limit and feeling so much more alive behind the wheel than I did anywhere else. This was the one thing I did with my time that I loved.

  It wasn’t always like that. Two years ago I was connected to everything, each day built the foundation for a tomorrow I couldn’t wait to jump into. But now . . .