Chapter 93
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
RUSH
I gripped the steering wheel and drove around Redwood’s coastline, glancing over at Astrid. Waves crashed against the jagged rocks at the Overlook, midnight beachgoers jogged across the road toward the dunes, and people exited the popular bars.
She was quiet. Too quiet.
Astrid was always running her mouth. Teasing and challenging and stirring up shit.
But now she sat in the passenger seat with her legs bouncing, swimming in my oversize sweatshirt. She stared out the window like she wasn’t really here, and I didn’t blame her.
Moonlight bounced off the streets, the night swallowing everything else around us. The hum of the engine drifted through my ears. I told myself that this was all to clear my head, but I couldn’t be around the others right now.
We had almost lost her, and while I wanted to blame them, this was all my fault.
If I hadn’t done those stupid fucking races, then Astrid would’ve never been harmed.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
She looked over at me, surprised. “For what?”
“This is all my fault.”
“What?”
“Them kidnapping you, them almost”—I gripped the wheel even tighter—“killing you.” Tears welled up in my eyes, though I didn’t let her see them. “I almost lost you. I almost fucking lost you, Astrid.”
I kept my eyes on the road, shoving away my feelings. If I looked over at her, I’d break.
She stayed quiet for a moment, then placed her hand on my forearm. “Rush, it’s not your fault.”
Fuck.
“Rush, please, pull over,” she murmured.
I wanted to keep driving, to speed up, but I didn’t plan on wrapping her around a pole. I could do that on my own time, risk my own life. So, I pulled over on a side road across from the beach.
“It’s not your fault,” she repeated.
My heart pounded hard inside my chest, and I stared ahead through the windshield, not daring to look over. My eyes were burning.
“Look at me,” she pleaded, hand on my chin. “Please.”
When I didn’t, she took off her seat belt and crawled into my lap, so I was forced to meet her stare, to look at the girl I almost had gotten killed.
“It’s not your fault, okay?” she whispered, her hands on my jaw.
“It is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“The guys who took you only took you because they were pissed at me. I should’ve quit street racing. I should’ve—”
“Stop it, Rush,” she murmured, swiping tears from my cheeks with her thumbs. “Stop it. You didn’t cause this. I don’t blame you.”
I gripped her waist tightly. “You should.”
“No, I shouldn’t, and I won’t. You protected me. You killed someone. For me.”
“I’d do it again,” I said. “I’d do worse. I’d burn the world down for you.”
Her fingers brushed against my cheeks again. So warm, so small. Yet she didn’t say anything.
“Killing him wasn’t enough for me. I want them all to pay for what they did to you. I want them to hurt. To cry. To plead. To beg for their lives. Then I want to take away what matters most to them.”
“Rush, I don’t want you to hurt anyone for me,” she whispered. “But I appreciate what you’ve done.”
“You don’t get it,” I murmured, brushing some hair off her face. “All these fucking years, I’ve felt so dead inside. I haven’t felt as alive as I have after I met you. And I can’t lose that. I can’t lose you. I fucking love you, Astrid.”