Chapter 9
Bailey
Professor Stratford’s TA, Kady, walked down the aisles between chairs and handed back tests. Some students looked eager, some nervous, some depressed.
I didn’t feel anything.
I wanted to care, but I just…didn’t.
Kady paused between me and Iris. She handed my test to me. “Shocker. You’re average.”
I glanced down. There was a big red C minus scribbled across the top of the page.
Not failing, then. That was good.
Beside me, Iris groaned with dismay as she glared at her test paper.
“See me if you’d like some extra tutoring,” Kady said, sounding almost nice. I glanced over to see her giving Iris a sympathetic smile. “You can do this, girl. We got you.”
She squeezed Iris’s shoulder before moving on. Iris raised her eyebrows at me.
I mouthed, Hot for teacher?
Iris snorted and rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. I leaned over to get a peek at her grade. A low D. Ouch. Iris was passionate about becoming an engineer. She’d never wanted anything else.
But calc was kicking her ass, big-time.
Professor Stratford droned on at the front board, but I didn’t bother to listen. I couldn’t learn this way. Shiloh had sent me some YouTube links that used practical, real-life scenarios and more visual aids. When I watched those, I could at least grasp the concepts. Class was a waste of time.
I fidgeted, spinning the thick silver band on my middle finger while the minutes ticked down. When that got too monotonous, I snapped the rubber bracelet on my wrist.
Iris kicked my ankle just before class ended.
“Ow.” I glanced over. “Must you always choose violence?”
“Baby,” she scoffed. “Want to grab a coffee and go over our test results? Figure out where we went wrong?”
I hesitated. Iris was cool, and ordinarily, I was happy to highlight shit and pretend I got it, but today, I shook my head.
“Maybe you should take Kady up on her offer.”
Iris winced. “You think I’m hopeless.”
“No, I think I’m a shit study partner,” I said.
“You got a better grade than me.”
“Yeah, but that’s just it. I can’t help you. I can barely help myself.”
“Rude,” she muttered under her breath.
I shoved my notebook into my backpack and slung the bag over my right shoulder as I stood. “This is important to you, Iris. Do it right. Take Kady’s help.”
I started down the stairs. As I neared the front door, Professor Stratford called out.
“Mr. Steele?” I paused and looked over. “Can I have a word?”
Shit. So close to escape.
I detoured to his desk. “What’s up?”
“You’ve missed a lot of classes this semester.”
I grimaced. “Yeah, sorry. I…” Shit, I couldn’t even think of an excuse. “I’m still adjusting to college, I guess.”
He tapped the C- on my paper. “You’re just getting by. But you can’t half-ass your way through a degree program. Eventually, it’ll catch up with you.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I know.”
He gave me a considering look. “A lot of kids switch majors. Maybe you haven’t discovered what’s right for you.” He shrugged. “Then again, college isn’t for everyone either.”
My chest tightened. “What are you saying? I don’t belong here?”
“I certainly am not. No one can decide if you belong here but you.” He patted my arm. “So figure it out, all right? Don’t waste my time or yours if you’re just going to phone it in.”
“Yes, sir,” I said quietly.
“Good. If you stay in this class, I expect to see your ass in the chair more often. Now, go. I’ve got other students to worry about.”
He turned away, and I slunk toward the door, feeling about two inches tall. Professor Stratford was right. I was taking up space, just coasting along as best I could, and that could only take me so far.
But what was the alternative? He said no one could decide if I belonged here but me. I already knew I didn’t. But if I dropped out, I’d break Holden’s heart.
It was a no-win situation.
I walked out of class, out of the building, and back toward the dorms. I didn’t have another class for almost two hours.
I pulled out my phone and texted Owen.
You get that nitrous oxide injector yet?
I made it all the way back to my dorm and dumped off my books before he answered back.
Not yet.
Damn it. I needed a distraction. Too many thoughts crowded into my head. I could hardly breathe for feeling trapped.
I grabbed my keys and went out to my car, with no thought except to escape for a while. To get away from school, from my apathy, from my professor’s insight into the situation.
From the reality that no matter what I did, someone would be unhappy.
I got into my Camaro, which I’d spent months rebuilding. The deep maroon paint gleamed under the sun, and nostalgia washed over me.
I’d been so damn happy when I’d restored this car.
I’d found her in the junkyard, a beautiful girl in an ugly dress of flaking paint, rust spots, and dents.
She’d needed a new transmission, new belts, a new timing chain.
I didn’t stop there, though. I wanted her to look her best, so I watched online tutorials and rented the equipment to knock out her dents, strip her old paint, sand her down, and repaint her.
I’d loved restoring a car from the ground up. It was the first time I’d done it, but there was something amazing about seeing a project through from start to finish.
My car had been transformed—maybe I had too—so I’d named her Monarch.
I unlocked the door and slid into the bucket seat. When the engine roared to life, my chest loosened a fraction.
I reversed out of the parking spot and navigated my way off campus. I cruised side streets, keeping to a nice, moderate speed until I got to the highway. Once there, I opened her up and let her fly.
I’d told Owen I’d never race her, and that was true. I’d never risk my car’s pretty new paint job by speeding down dirt roads, hitting ruts, risking collisions, spinouts, or worse—rolling the damn thing on a tight turn.
But I loved the open highway, just me and Monarch, eating up the miles together, pretending we were free.
With each mile, I breathed easier. And before I knew it, I was approaching Riverton city limits. Shit. I hadn’t meant to drive all the way home.
I’d let my mind drift while driving, and it had carried me here.
I checked the time on the dash radio. Too early to go home. Holden would know I was ditching, and I didn’t want to deal with a grilling about why I’d shown up out of the blue.
I passed the turn to Forrester Auto and parked at Ball Breakers Bar & Pool Hall instead. It was too early for any of my brothers to be there. They’d be busy at the auto shop.
My fingers flexed on the steering wheel. It’d feel so good to lose myself in work right now. But not with my brothers hovering around me, asking questions, telling me I should be in school.
No. A few games of pool would have to do instead. My second-favorite pastime.
It’s funny. Before I went to school, I wouldn’t have said that pool came in second. In fact, I’d grumbled a few times about how hard I had to work in the shop. It was my job then, and it wasn’t until it was gone that I realized how much I loved it.
Not precisely the mechanic work, though I loved that, but being with my brothers. Feeling like a valuable part of our business. Just like with Monarch, I’d helped take something that was in disrepair and rebuilt it into a thriving business.
I missed that feeling of accomplishment.
No class or grade could compare. Our auto shop was the real world.
College was a fantasy land full of people who were dreaming about their futures.
Trouble was, I already knew mine. I just didn’t know how to tell Holden my future wasn’t going to match up with his vision.
The owner, Leo, was behind the bar when I stepped inside. He dipped his head in greeting. I sent him a sloppy salute in return.
The place was fairly quiet, but it was only four thirty. I went to the pool table and racked the balls.
I set up trick shots for a couple of hours, challenging myself, until a guy came up to the table. He was big, a little rough around the edges, his hair a windblown mess that told me he rode his bike without a helmet. His face was weathered from years of doing it.
The scent of leather clung to him like a second skin.
“You must think you’re pretty good,” he rumbled.
I straightened and turned toward him. “I do okay.”
“I could beat you.”
“Yeah?” I was tempted to take him up on it, but he’d seen me practicing. He knew I was no beginner. He might actually have the skill to back up his words. I shrugged. “Good for you.”
He chuckled. “Smart-ass. Want to play a couple? No money. Just for fun? I want to see what you got.”
“Sure.” I grinned. “I’ll even let you break.”
“Oh, a sweet talker,” he said. “All right, but I might not be as hopeless as you seem to think.”
“I don’t think that,” I said. “I want to watch you break so I can assess your play and then destroy you.”
He lifted his beer, pointing it toward me. “Ruthless. I like it.”
He racked the balls into place, then stepped to the wall to select a cue and chalk the tip.
He bent over the end of the pool table, squinting one eye, sizing up his shot. His stance wasn’t bad. His hold was steady.
He had a strong break, sending two solids into opposite pockets on the table.
I nodded as he straightened and circled to look for his next shot. “Okay. Not bad.”
He smirked. “Glad to get the approval of a goddamned baby.”
“This baby will kick your ass,” I growled.
He chuckled. “Oh, you can try.”
He made two more shots before one went awry. I was annoyed, so I sank my next shot, then the next, then the next, wiping the floor with him.
His smile dropped. He scowled. “Yeah, you’re a hotshot. Let’s go again.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Your funeral.”
We played again and again, exchanging names and small talk but mostly focusing on the pool as the next couple of hours slipped by.
Leo brought me a soda on the house, and Teddy laughed. “Jesus Christ, you really are a baby.”
At some point, I noticed Flynn come in with a group of guys. He didn’t seem to notice me, but my attention slipped.
Teddy went in for the kill. Actually managed to win, too. He crowed. “I knew you weren’t invincible.”
I scowled, my pride smarting. “Want to put some money on that?”
He cocked his head. “Nah. I’ve bested you already.”
He sauntered off, smug as all get out, and I huffed an annoyed breath. I’d just lost in front of Flynn. I couldn’t let that stand—even if he hadn’t noticed me.
I scanned the room for another taker, and a wiry, mean-looking guy caught my gaze. I nodded toward the table.
He came over. “Didn’t Teddy just teach you a lesson?”
“Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment.”
He gave a raspy laugh. “Well, I don’t play for funsies like him. I play for cash.”
I dug into my pocket and pulled out a fifty. “Good enough?”
“Not as good as a hundred, but it’ll do.”
I slapped my fifty down on the edge of the table. He did the same. While we racked the balls, I made small talk to put him at ease and make him think I was an easy target.
“Where you from? You and Teddy are just passing through, right?”
“Yep. Though we look like we belong here a lot more than you do, college boy.”
That threw me for a minute. Had I started looking like the kids at Thurston? I forced a chuckle. “You got me. I’m looking for a distraction from studying. God, I hate it.”
It was incredibly freeing to just say the words out loud.
My opponent snorted. “Well, get ready for a whole new type of schooling.”
He broke, the balls rolling every which way, and I knew this would be child’s play. I glanced over my shoulder and caught Flynn’s gaze.
Yes. He was watching.
With a grin, I went to work teaching yet another man not to underestimate me.
I lined up my shot and let fly.