Until You (Fall Away #1.5)(32)
Author: Penelope Douglas

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 f**k 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 f**k 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 f**king 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 f**king involved.”

She inhaled a sharp breath, and her shoulders straightened. Her eyes stared at me with hurt and shock, and I’d f**king 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.

Chapter 29

I barreled out of the driveway and drove hard. Down the street and to the edge of town where the lights didn’t reach.

Driving helped clear my head, and it was now a mess again because of Tate. I wasn’t running. I was detaching.

She wouldn’t understand, and she would sure as shit see me differently. Why didn’t she see that it wasn’t important?

I could’ve been gentler about it, I guess, but she kept prying into shit that wasn’t her business.

I strangled the shit out of the steering wheel, willing myself to stay on the gas and not turn around.

I couldn’t go back. She’d want to know it all, and the shame I felt for what I’d done to my brother outweighed the shame I felt for what I’d done to her.

Didn’t she see that some things were better left buried?

“Go. Help your brother,” my father tells me, too gently.

My hands are shaking, and I look back at him.

What’s going on? I ask myself.

“Don’t act like you have a choice.” He gestures me on with the bottle in his hand.

The wooden stairs creek with each step I take, and the small light below offers me no comfort.

It’s like the creepy light coming from an old furnace, but I can feel the air getting chillier the more I descend.

Where’s Jax?

I look back at my father, where he stands in the kitchen at the top of the stairs, and feel more and more like I’m being sucked into a black hole.