Aflame

  “But?” he presses.

  I look back at him, distracted by the noise.

  “Hey!” someone shouts. “Check out this video of Trent!”

  I blink, dropping my cup in the sink.

  Ignoring Gavin, I round the corner and go to where the guys are sitting in the living room crowded around an iPad. Peering over someone’s shoulder, I watch footage of Jared—uploaded today, by the looks of it—speeding around a track filled with sharp twists and turns, and even though I can’t see his face behind his helmet, I know it’s him. I’d know his body anywhere.

  I lose my breath watching him as I allow myself a small smile.

  God, he’s beautiful. The way he leans and steers the bike, in perfect control.

  And he’s doing it.

  He’s doing what he wants to do and living how he wants to live. I watch, and no matter how much I still hurt, I’m so proud of him.

  I feel Gavin at my back, but I don’t look. The footage on the YouTube video switches to a commentator, and my stomach knots, seeing Jared in the background.

  He’s signing autographs for some kids as a few race girls—the ones who work the crowd in their sexy outfits—climb onto the bus behind him. Another teammate clutches Jared’s shoulders behind him and whispers into his ear before they both start smiling as if sharing a private joke.

  The guy then pushes Jared toward the same bus as the girls and follows him up the steps, the door closing.

  “Man, that’s the life,” a guy off to my right comments.

  I back away and try to keep an even-keeled expression, even though my heart feels like it’s splintering.

  Gavin follows me upstairs, and I don’t know why, but I take him straight to Jared’s and my room.

  I need to do this. I don’t want Jared anymore. I don’t want the pain. I don’t want to take a chance that I’ll ever be his and go through this again.

  Months of heartache, months of trying to move on, and it still feels like he’s everywhere.

  I’ve made love to Gavin, and now I can make love to him in Jared’s and my bed, and I will have crossed a boundary from which there’s no return. It will kill everything inside of me.

  Gavin starts kissing my neck, and a tear falls down my face. My skin feels like it’s covered in mud, feeling dirtier the more he touches. I don’t want this.

  I shouldn’t do this.

  But I close my eyes and lean my head to the side, inviting him in anyway.

  His hands cup my breasts, rubbing them in circles over my shirt as he takes my mouth.

  He dips a hand inside my jeans, and I suck in a breath. I clench my thighs to keep him at bay, but I don’t know what I want.

  Gavin makes Jared go away. Gavin always makes me forget. I can do this.

  But I still shake my head.

  Every second of this makes me feel worse, and I don’t want to use Gavin. To make what we’re doing dirty, just so I can feel better.

  Jared’s voice pours into my head. “You’ve been turning my world upside down for eight years. I can’t get enough of you.”

  I gasp, choking on tears as I push Gavin away and cover my face with my hands.

  “Tate, what’s wrong?” He sounds worried.

  I shake my head and collapse against the wall next to the bathroom, sliding down to the floor. “You have to go,” I cry softly. “I’m so sorry, but you have to sleep somewhere else tonight.”

  He approaches. “Baby, we can sleep somewhere else. What did I do?”

  I shake my head again. “Please just leave.”

  This is Jared’s and my room. No one else’s. “Please leave,” I cry louder.

  “Tate,” he presses.

  “Now!” I shout. “Just leave me alone.”

  I put my head down on my knees and cry. I don’t know why I feel guilty. I’d only ever had sex with Jared until Gavin came along. I don’t sleep around, and Jared drowned his sadness and pain in plenty of girls before me.

  Why couldn’t it make me feel better, too?

  I cry for a long time, still hearing the music going strong downstairs and not knowing if Gavin left, went back to the party, or found another room.

  A hand touches mine, and I shoot my head up, seeing Madoc kneeling down on one knee.

  My face cracks, and I can’t hold it back. “Why can’t I forget him?” I sob.

  He closes his eyes, running a weary hand through his hair, looking about ready to cry himself.

  Instead he pulls me in and hugs me, letting me release it all.

  “When Fallon was sent away,” he starts, choking on his own tears, “I tried to get lost in so many other women.” I heard him swallow hard. “But it never helped for longer than a day, and I always felt worse later.”

  I look up at Madoc. “It’s been months. Jared’s probably moved on, but I don’t want anyone else.” I’m sobbing, wiping away my tears only to feel more come to take their place. “It hurts. Everything hurts. I almost cut down our tree last fall, Madoc. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get over it?”

  He lifts my chin, tears pooling in his blue eyes. “Do you want to get over it?” he asks.

  I narrow my eyes. “Of course I do.”

  He cocks his head. “I think you still love him, Tate, and I think you know deep down, he’s going to be back for you.”

  I sniffle, dropping my eyes. “I can’t trust him. Too much has happened.” The tears spill over my lips. “Gavin’s a good guy. I need to try to move on.”

  He nudges my chin, urging my eyes back up to his. “You’re forcing it,” he insists. “Do you remember senior year? You were stronger when you stood on your own, Tate.”

  Madoc was right.

  The next day, I broke off my brief relationship with Gavin and joined my dad and Jax in working on my car, and that spring, I started racing.

  It wasn’t until recently—more than a year after that talk with Madoc—that I started seeing Ben, taking it slow but testing out the waters for the first time in a long time.

  I sat in my G8, the cool black interior and tinted windows encasing me in my own private world as Limp Bizkit’s “My Way” droned through the speakers. The crowds milled around outside, already tipping their drinks as they stumbled around the track, and I held back my little grin, not for once feeling bad that I never joined in. Ben wanted me to. He craved the happy girlfriend who could ease in and out of social situations without complication.

  After all, if I was determined to race, why not enjoy the atmosphere and the hype?

  But Ben was far too late to make an impression on my personality. I learned back in high school that I was who I was, and I slept a lot better at night when I didn’t make apologies for that.

  I didn’t need them, and I didn’t even need the win.

  I just need this, I thought as I gripped the wheel and the stick. The blood in my arms felt like it was dancing under my skin, and I was ready.

  Yes, Madoc was right.

  I was stronger when I stood on my own. And when Jax encouraged me to take up some racing at the Loop, I’d found there was one thing that I did by myself—one thing I owned—that put strength in my veins.

  There was no guilt, no pressure—just silence. And I would keep that going when Jared showed up tonight.

  Which he would.

  I hated to admit it, but he’d put a nice little rush in my blood today. And it wasn’t just because of how good he’d looked. Beautiful ink covered more of his arms than it had two years ago, but he still had the same smooth, toned chest that now looked even more incredible, tanned by the West Coast sun.

  And of course, all it took was a look for him to get under my skin.

  At ten years old, Jared was my friend. At fourteen, my enemy; at eighteen, my lover; and at twenty, my heartbreak. I’d known him more than half my life, and alt
hough the roles had changed, his impact was always all consuming.

  Always.

  I leaned over, digging my mom’s Leaves of Grass out of my backpack. Tossing the pack into the backseat, out of the way, I opened the paperback, pressing my thumb over the edges of the pages as I fanned them, the soft breeze of the flutter wafting across my face.

  Finding page sixty-four, I headed straight for the lines my mother had underlined on verse twenty of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself.”

  I whispered, holding the book close to me. “I exist as I am, that is enough.”

  There were many lines underlined and many poems dog-eared in this old paperback, but I always came back to the ones my mother did herself. Maybe she marked them for herself, or maybe she knew I would need them, but they were always right there being the voice for me she couldn’t be anymore. Even though she died of cancer more than ten years ago, I never stopped needing her. So I carried the book everywhere.

  Leaning in, I pressed my nose into the crease and inhaled the scent of old paper as my eyes fell closed.

  “Dude,” I heard Madoc’s voice. “Kinky.”

  I opened my eyes, letting out an aggravated sigh at his big head sticking through my driver’s side window.

  You would think Madoc was my boyfriend, as much as he hovered, but it was useless to try to get away from it. He’d texted three times to make sure I was showing up tonight. I’d never missed a race, but I knew exactly why he thought I might duck out. The moron thought I had no self-respect.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I warned, tossing the book into the glove compartment—which I always did for good luck—and then climbing out of the car.

  “Okay.” He nodded, stuffing his hands into his gray cargo shorts. “But if I see you sleeping with your books, I’m staging an intervention.” He jerked his chin to the backseat, littered with all of my texts for school.

  I shot him a look and walked around the back of my car to attach the GoPro Jax had given me. “I got behind on my summer reading because of my shifts at the hospital,” I explained, bending down to affix the camera, “and I want to get through these footnotes by the time school starts.”

  “You’re reading the books in the footnotes?” He looked at me like I was wearing head-to-toe orange.

  I stood up, placing my hands on my hips. “Considering you’re studying to be a lawyer, it might be a good idea for you to dive deeper into your reading lists as well.”

  He went wide-eyed. “We have reading lists?”

  My eyes rounded, but then he laughed, clearly joking. At least I hoped he was joking. “Well, you’re not going into surgery tomorrow,” he argued. “So take a breath already.”

  “I can’t.” I brushed him off, walking back to my door. “I’m just—”

  “Worried you’ll start thinking about him?” he finished, and I halted.

  I let out a sigh, gritting my teeth. “Not now, okay? Don’t you have better things to do? Like your mission to start a soccer team in the Caruthers household as soon as college ended?”

  But he ignored me. Before I knew what was happening, Madoc darted into my backseat and started gathering my books and backpack.

  “Madoc,” I scolded, trying to grab my shit. “Give me my books.”

  He jerked away from me. “I’ve got them.”

  “Now!” I whisper-yelled.

  “Not tonight.” He smiled, shaking his head.

  “Why not tonight?” I inquired as if I didn’t know where this was going.

  But then a husky voice roared over the loudspeaker, and Madoc and I looked up.

  “Tate!” My name echoed across the track. “Are you here?”

  I grinned and cocked a mischievous eyebrow at Madoc. “Excuse me for a moment,” I said sweetly.

  “Oh, of course,” he cooed, bowing his head in reverence with laughter in his eyes.

  I rounded the front of my car, hopped on the hood, and stood tall. “Here!” I shouted, feeling the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes fall on me from the surrounding crowds.

  Cheers rang out in the night air as people—men and women—howled and clapped, whistled and chanted my name, and I caught sight of Fallon and Juliet over by the bleachers holding up their drinks and screaming their support.

  Zack Hager, the announcer, stood up in the viewing stand with Jax, clearly figuring out the evening’s schedule. They only took attendance when someone had canceled. Seeing as how we all had set times before the day of the race, they needed to figure out who was here, so they could push up racers in the line-up.

  I jumped back down and eyed Madoc, finishing our conversation. “All of you knew he was coming home and no one told me,” I pointed out. “I’m not mad, but I’m not indulging whatever scheme you’ve worked out. I’m a grownup.”

  He pinched his eyebrows together and dropped my back pack. “Puh-lease,” he grumbled.

  And the next thing I knew he grabbed me, hooked an arm round my neck—putting me in a headlock—and scrubbed my scalp hard with his knuckles.

  “Madoc!” I screamed, planting one hand against his back and one against his bicep as I tried to pull my head out of his hold. “You are not giving me a noogie!”

  “Noogie?” he argued. “No, grownups don’t give noogies. And we’re grownups, right?” He carried on, his assault burning my scalp.

  “Madoc!” I growled, my voice deep and labored with the short breaths. “Let me go!” I stomped my foot, finally twisting out of his hold.

  He backed off, and I straightened, trying to catch my breath as he laughed.

  “You’re a jerk!” I pushed hair out of my face that had been tugged free of my ponytail.

  “Yes.” Fallon joined in, walking up with Juliet. “You’re just now learning that?” she teased, winking at her husband.

  I huffed, yanking my rubber band out of my hair, because it was a lost cause now.

  “Ah, that’s better.” Madoc smiled his approval at my hair hanging loose. I just scowled.

  But then something else caught our attention as the crowd around us grew louder, and we all turned toward the track to see what the commotion was.

  People moved to the side to clear a path, and I caught sight of Jared as onlookers cheered and screamed.

  He was riding his motorcycle from high school—the same one Jax kept in his garage now that Jared had better bikes for racing—and he veered off to the side and backed up into a parking space. It took no time at all before he was swarmed with people: old friends, fangirls, and even fanboys.

  I watched as he slipped off his helmet and swung his leg off the bike, flashing a smile to his old friend Zack, and my stomach tightened when I saw a young woman climb off the motorcycle behind him.

  I didn’t recognize her, and I ignored the pang of jealousy that she might be someone he brought with him from California.

  Everyone was trying to get his attention, and once again, he was the center of everything.

  Madoc snapped his fingers in front of my face, reeling me back in. “Are you pissed off?” he asked.

  I pursed my lips. “No.”

  “Well, you should be,” he shot back. “That’s not his crowd. It’s yours,” he continued. “You’re the one they came to see.”

  I inhaled a sharp breath. “I don’t care—”

  “Now, some of them have long memories,” he cut me off, “and maybe they’re interested in seeing what crowbars will fly with you two in the same space, but nevertheless, he doesn’t get to steal the spotlight in your show tonight.”

  I got in his face. “I couldn’t care less about the—”

  But he grabbed my arms, and I was stunned silent when he shook me.

  “What do you care about?” he growled, and I felt Juliet and Fallon still beside me.

  I sucked in air, shocked at his roughness. I barely blinked as h
e grabbed the hem of my loose black tank top and ripped a slit up the side.

  I gritted my teeth together. “Madoc, what the hell are you doing?” I asked calmly.

  He grabbed the two pieces and tied a knot halfway up my stomach. “You’re the queen,” he reminded me and then plucked the backpack off the ground. “You own this track and every driver on it. He’s ignorant of that fact, so educate him.”

  I took a deep breath, not wanting him to see the smile I was trying to hide. Yes, this was mine. The track, the Friday nights, and the wins. I didn’t need to engage Jared. But I was going to keep what was mine.

  Turning around, Madoc barked one last order before walking off. “Juliet, get her some fucking lipstick, too.”

  My eyebrows did a nosedive.

  Asshole.

  Juliet dug in her bag as I watched Madoc toss my backpack into his car, clearly making sure I didn’t have an excuse to be antisocial even after the races.

  I looked down at my shirt.

  Such a jerk. Even if I undid the tie, my shirt was still ripped.

  “Your husband is—”

  “A handful?” Fallon finished, her green eyes smiling. “Yes, he is.”

  I jerked as Juliet tried to get some red lipstick on me.

  “Stay still,” she chided. “Jax hates gloss, so I found this lipstick that doesn’t get him all sparkly when I kiss him. He loves it, but if it smears on your face, it’ll take more than a little spit to get it off your skin, okay?”

  I let her put the damn lipstick on because—I didn’t know why. Maybe it was added armor. Maybe I wanted to be pretty for Ben.

  Or maybe I saw Jared take a seat, leaning back on the bleachers, while a girl—a different one than the one I’d seen him arrive with—draped a hand on his knee, interest flaring in every one of her mannerisms.

  Maybe I wanted to show him that I didn’t need him to make an impression of my own.

  The friend he’d arrived with sat on his other side, looking bored and disinterested. Purple streaks flowed through her jet black hair, and glancing up and down her body, I took in her alternative appearance and wondered at how Jared’s taste had changed.