Falling Away (Fall Away #3)(53)
Author: Penelope Douglas

But she nodded her answer. “Yes, I’m coming. Of course.”

I pushed off the wall, sliding my feet back into my shoes. “Just come with me now. We’ll shower, get something to eat, and go together.”

Her sigh was thoughtful. “I want to.”

“But?”

“Shane’s leaving for California soon,” she explained, sounding apologetic. “I should spend the afternoon with her.”

And I just wanted to chuck the whole damn day and crawl into bed with her. Turn off phones, strip off clothes, abandon food …

“Not to mention,” she continued, “that I want to get pretty again before I ogle you tonight.” She came up, clutching my belt in her fingers. “If I go home with you to get cleaned up, you’ll just get me all messy again.”

I laughed. “True.”

As much as I’d like to claim that I wouldn’t prey on a barely experienced girl who was on the rebound and probably sore, I wouldn’t be able to take a shower with her and not … yeah.

I held the side of her face, arching an eyebrow. “I don’t want you in his fucking car. You got that?”

She saluted, clearly biting back her smile.

After about five more minutes of making out, I led her down the stairs—no way was I doing the slide—before we really got caught. I’d paid the kid taking tickets not to let anyone else in, but if Fallon slipped through his fingers, we didn’t have long.

We headed out into the late-afternoon heat, hand in hand and smiling. The blush covering her face, her long brown hair shining in the sun, her body glistening with my sweat … Without a doubt, I fucking liked her.

Too damn much.

“K.C.?” I heard a woman call, and my gaze shifted to the side as Juliet halted and her fingers tightened around mine.

“Mother,” she replied flatly, and I turned wide-eyed at the older version of Juliet. The hair was a vibrant black, but the eyes were the same.

She was beautiful. And very fucking clean.

Her face stiffened in anger. “What have you done?” she accused, taking in her daughter’s appearance. The dirty, smudged clothes, the sweaty hair, and the owner of the hand she held. Her pained eyes left her daughter’s and flashed to me, raking her eyes up and down my body.

Only, with me, her lips turned down in disgust. I wasn’t sure if it was the way I was dressed, the way I wasn’t dressed, my long hair, my piercings, or the clear evidence that we’d just been all over each other, but one thing I did know.

It was definitely the sight of her daughter’s hand in mine that made her worried eyes turn angry and her fists clench.

“What have you done?” She looked straight at me, accusing. “What have you done to her?”

I gritted my teeth together, remembering those same words on another day. The same words spoken by my father. By Jared.

Those fucking words that told me I was a dirty, shit kid who had blood on his hands and skeletons in the closet.

“What have you done?”

CHAPTER 16

JAXON

I sat on the hood of my car, earbuds in and listening to Apocalyptica’s “I’m Not Jesus,” while I stared at the layout of the tracks on the iPad.

The dirt and sweat were gone. I’d showered when I got home from the carnival, scrubbed my skin till it was red and washed my hair twice, but I still couldn’t sit still. There was still dirt under my nails.

“What have you done?”

I tapped my foot, feeling the weight of my phone in my pocket.

Don’t call her. Don’t text her. She’s coming. She said she would.

And as soon as I saw her, got a chance to wrap my arms around her little frame, I’d forget the way her mother had looked at me. I’d forget the knife in my other pocket, the one that said I’d hurt anyone who made me feel dirty again.

She could touch me. She could touch any part of me, and that was it. Just her.

So I swallowed the jagged pill in my throat and gripped the iPad, forcing myself to focus. The Loop. The track. The money.

“Heads up!”

I jerked my head, seeing Fallon just in time to catch the water bottle she tossed. Holding it up and offering a tight smile, I watched her smile in return and walk back to Madoc, who leaned against his car, waiting for the races to start.

About a year ago, I had started working with Zack Hager, the Racemaster, who’d run races here on Friday and Saturday nights. Things were amateur back then. Mostly local high school kids racing their fancy toys that Mommy and Daddy had bought them around an unstable dirt track. My brother, Madoc, and Tate had all raced here during that time. They were illegal events on private property that everyone knew about but no one cared to stop.

And why would they? It was boring as hell.

For me, anyway. It was like watching NASCAR. Left turn, left turn, left turn. Guess what’s next. Yeah, left turn.

But cars interested me. Racing definitely interested me. So Zack and I had pooled our resources and stepped up the game. High school races Friday nights. College-and-beyond races Saturday nights. We struck a deal with Dirk Benson, the farmer on whose land the track sat, and got permission to pave it. Only instead of being a rounded square circling a pond, the track now had kind of a Hershey’s Kiss–looking top. We’d included the long driveway leading into the track as part of the race now. Drivers did their turn around the track and ended by racing to the end of the driveway, skidding to a turn, and racing back to the finish line.

We’d also constructed another dirt track through the forest between his farm and the highway and incorporated off-roading races as well. Sometimes they ran simultaneously, but we usually tried to keep them separate.

Best of all, the races were almost fully legal—except for the betting—and now they were wired in as well. GoPro cameras were installed on all the vehicles before the races so viewers could access footage on their phones and iPads with the Web Site I’d created. This feature was especially important for the off-road races where the viewers couldn’t venture.

Zack took care of scheduling drivers, making sure they signed our disclaimer forms, and the money. I took care of the tech stuff, planning new events, and alterations to the track.

After all, this would eventually get boring, too, so things had to keep changing.

And thankfully this kept me busy. During the school year, when I attended college, my class load, plus the track, was enough to keep me out of trouble. The fall and spring were my safest times. School was in session, and the weather was good for racing. The winter and summer were shaky. Either school was out or the track was dead.