42. Dane
42
DANE
The car eases to a stop, and Reese lifts her head to peer out the window. I pretend to observe the scenery until she glances my way. Her bottom lip trembles. She sniffles, then rubs her eyes with the inside of her wrist.
She’s been doing that the entire drive.
It took all of my willpower to focus on getting us here in one piece without pulling over to the shoulder once. I don’t know what happened with her sister last Saturday. She hasn’t said anything since she left the sorority house crying her heart out. While it kills me to be left in the dark this past week, she’ll tell me when she’s ready. I know she will.
Now that we’ve arrived at the track, the gut feeling to do whatever I can to figure out what’s wrong is barely outmatched by the need to put an end to those tears.
“Reese,” I say, drawing her attention toward me. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not feeling up to it.”
With another sniffle, her watery smile gives way to a sad, mournful grimace. “I’m up to it,” she insists, as her shoulders droop. “ I am . I swear.”
“Baby, we can always reschedule and come back another day?—”
“No.” Her head shakes vehemently. “We’re going to have fun. I’m not going to be a buzzkill, so move aside, Danny boy, and I’ll prove it to you.”
Her eyes glitter through her tears when she finally meets my gaze.
“Danny boy?” I huff, the edges of my mouth tilting up into a smirk. She blinks innocently at me, and I chuckle. “You’re lucky I find you cute.”
“Enough to let me get away with singing about how the pipes are calling?”
“Baby, I will turn the car around the second you belt out the first word of the song,” I warn her and break into a lopsided grin as a full-blown smile steals across her face. Then she laughs for the first time in days, and it’s so damn sweet. “There she is. There’s my Reese’s Pieces.”
Her expression softens into something bashful. Ducking her head, she plays with the material of her sweater. Then she inhales softly when I reach over and wipe away the stray tear trickling down her cheek.
She redirects her focus toward me as I leisurely stroke the rise of her cheekbone.
“I hope she stays around a little longer,” I continue, “but I understand if she needs some more time to herself.”
Her eyes alight with amusement, and after a drawn-out beat, she leans into my hand. I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t.
She doesn’t have to. We sit there in comfortable silence. My thumb continues to caress her cheek while she holds my gaze. Her eyes are starry-soft, her lips curved into a gentle smile.
With an audible swallow, her hand wraps around my wrist and gives me a gentle squeeze before she pulls away from my touch. “Let’s drive.”
“ Let’s ”—I reach into the backseat—“make sure you drink some water first.” My heart swells at the immediate grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make sure you had some water after you cried?”
Taking the plastic bottle, she beams. “You should consider getting a reusable one. It’s better for the planet.”
“With the cars I have?” I deadpan. “Don’t know if it’ll do much, but I’ll get right on it.” I hike my chin toward the window. “You wanna take the first lap?”
Twisting the cap off, she shakes her head. “You should go first.” She pauses, sheepish. “I kind of want my eyes to stop feeling so scratchy before I drive.”
“All right, Snack Mix.” I lean back and grab the helmets stashed in the backseat—her brows furrow when I hand her the smaller one of the two.
“We have to?—”
“We have to.”
“Really?”
“ Yes .” My voice is firm.
“But the movies?—”
“I’m not driving over eighty without you wearing one,” I growl. “The movies are bullshit. This is real life. I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt because of me.”
“Okay, okay.” She giggles softly and drains the rest of her water. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”
With a lopsided grin, I help secure her helmet over her head, check her seatbelt, and chuckle when she hooks her pinky around mine before I’m able to settle back in my seat.
Once I’ve secured mine on and readjusted the side-view mirrors, I look ahead. The ribboning track sprawls before us, every inch of tarmac being mapped out under my direct gaze.
The rush of anticipation greets me when I turn the key. The instant the clutch engages, I let off and give it plenty of gas, met with the gratifying rumble of Ol’ Reliable’s engine.
With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shifter, the scenery fades into the backdrop as my vehicle sets off and accelerates down the stretch. Screeching tires fight for traction and bite into the paved surface as the vehicle swings along the hairpin turn.
My adrenaline builds; my pulse thrums. My heart soars as the air turns charged within an electrifying moment. It’s heaven. Euphoria. Fucking exhilarating.
It’s just me and my girl, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You don’t have to drive fast, speed demon.” I chuckle when Reese shoots me a sidelong glance and sticks her tongue out. “You know it’s just us right now. We’ve got the track to ourselves for another hour, so feel free to go slower than an electric scooter if you want.”
“I will be faster than that,” she replies, leveling me with an utmost solemn expression. “I’m thinking of coasting along at e-bike speed.” At once, something serious flickers across her features. “Do you really trust me with your car?”
“Do my carburetors have a return spring?” When I’m met with a blank and confused look, I hold back my snort of amusement. “I trust you with all of them.”
“But what if I?—”
“You’re not going to crash it,” I assure her. “You can go as slow as you want. There’s no shame in that.”
Her gaze softens, and I grin. “Before I forget,” she whispers. “Can I go fifty-five in second gear?”
My smile takes on a very strained edge as my brows slowly crash together. “Well, yes.”
Amusement tugs at her lips as she leans in closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Should I go fifty-five in second gear?”
In response, my face becomes utterly impassive, and I give her a humorless stare. “What do you think?” I ask blandly, and she dissolves into giggles.
Picking up her helmet, she adorably taps it against mine. “I got this.”
I don’t respond. I just look at my girl and take in the sight of her steeled shoulders, her furrowed brows, and the way her lips twist into a determined grin.
Right then and there, my pulse kicks up a few notches, as if my heart’s firing on all cylinders. “Fuck yeah, you do.”
“Fuck yeah, I do.” She beams at me something brighter than the sun while she lifts her helmet above her head. “I so got this.”
“I mean it. Your motorcycle is next ,” Reese sings while she enters her apartment first. Her hair is slightly wet from the sudden rain we were caught in, and her cheeks are still flushed with the afterglow of adrenaline.
“You got it.” I flash her a thumbs-up after I twist the lock and secure the deadbolt, and her eyes crinkle. The second she steps away, my arm hooks around her midsection, and she shrieks when I hoist her into the air. “How does next week sound?”
“I’ll have to see if I’m working.” Her forefinger traces a heart over my chest, then another. “I should feed the cat.”
She captures my lips with a kiss that ends far too soon when she peels away and wriggles herself out of my embrace. I reluctantly set her down.
“Thank you again for today. It really took my mind off…” Her sentence peters out as she grabs the bag of kibble.
“Glad it did.”
“You don’t have to keep doing this.” Her rasp deepens her husky voice. “Taking me out on these expensive dates or getting me expensive things.”
“Root beer dates are expensive now?” I tease, eliciting a weak smile in return, and my smirk fades away. She won’t meet my eyes. She peers at her shoe rack for a long minute before her gaze snaps to mine.
“I don’t want to be your sugar baby,” she blurts, and I bite back my groan of frustration. The entire purpose of the racetrack today was to cheer her up; not make her feel more guilty.
“You’re not my sugar baby.” My voice is firm and unwavering while I bridge the gap between us. She hugs the cat food to her chest and reroutes her focus to her coffee table. “You’re my girlfriend. Someone I like to treat to make up for all the bullshit she has to put up with ’cause of me. I’m kidding. I just want you to be happy. That’s all.”
She spares me a rueful glance, then pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “I… I’m sorry. I know. I appreciate everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve gotten for me. I…” She trails off, and her cheeks turn splotchier. “Thanks for being a great boyfriend.”
Her words would be more convincing if she weren’t on the brink of tears. It doesn’t help one bit that her voice breaks at the end of her sentence.
“I love the enthusiasm,” I say teasingly, only to frown when she hastily wipes at the abrupt tear streaking down her cheek. “Will you tell me what’s actually upsetting you, Reese?”
“I… found out…” She hiccups. “I found out that Caleb was paid to go out with me.”
A hoarse exhalation slips free. “ Fuck ,” I mutter, and she doesn’t resist when I fold her easily into my arms and stroke her back. “When did they tell you?”
“ They ?” She tenses against me and jerks her head back, and her teary eyes collide with mine.
Fuck . I try to backtrack, but the words stick in my throat. Air seizes in my lungs as horror slowly dawns across her face.
“You… knew.”
“Baby—”
She wrenches herself out of my embrace and frantically scuttles backward. I move one step forward, only for her to add more distance between us until her back thumps against her bedroom door.
“You knew?” Her visible distress is eclipsed by the hurt inflicting her tone. Pure devastation racks her small frame, and she whimpers when I try to draw nearer.
Flinching, I stop partway. “I can explain?—”
“ You knew ?” she cries out. “Since when?”
I hesitate, and my throat bobs with a rough swallow. The few seconds bleed into endless eternity. “For a while.”
My admission is met with radio silence and wounded eyes. My gut clenches at the sight, and guilt settles thick in my heart when they start to glisten in the dim apartment lights.
“Since. When?”
Panic grips my chest. I don’t want to lie to her—I don’t want to be the one who hurts her—but it’s too little, too late for that. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. Anything but the whole damn truth would just be me digging a deeper grave.
“Before we started dating.”
The living room falls into heavy silence. It’s so unnervingly quiet that you can almost hear the low purr from the tabby as he slinks over to the food bowl.
“Did they pay you to go out with me, too?”
I almost frown. “Does it look like I need the mon?—”
“Or are you, like, only dating me because I’m a charity case?—”
“A what ?”
“—and you feel bad for me?” she stammers. “Is any of this even real?”
The sting in my chest gives way to an overwhelming ache. Disbelief clouds my features. “How could you even ask that? Of course, it’s real.”
“You’re lying. Nothing about this is genuine. You just feel bad for me like everyone else and-and—Oh God.” Her focus slices to the whiteboard beside her, and something stricken washes over her profile and crushes my heart into a pulp. “You owe me a favor?—”
“I’m not with you because I owe you one,” I insist, and she shakes her head in response. “Baby, I know you’re upset, but what we have is real. I promise you?—”
“ Leave . Please go.” Her despair comes off her in waves, hanging palpably in the air. “I want to be left alone?—”
“Baby—”
“ Please .” The raw anguish settling on her face kills me. It fucking kills me. “I can’t look at you right now.”
My breath freezes in my lungs, and I’m terrified at the path lying out before us. I’m fucking terrified this is how it’ll end.
This isn’t what I want. Not in any shape or form. I don’t want it to end like this. I don’t want her to be left alone when she’s on the verge of breaking down into tears. I don’t want to give her up.
But I’ve already caused enough damage.
“I’ll leave,” I begin, shoving my hands into my pockets and ignoring how every part of me is silently screaming in protest. “If that’s what you want?—”
“It’s what I want.” She hiccups just then and presses her palm to her cheek as a tear spills freely down her face.
I suck in a sharp breath. “But I promise you,” I swear, “that everything I’ve felt about you—everything I’ve done for you—has always been sincere. It has always been real.”
Her lower lip trembles, but she doesn’t respond. She just sniffles and casts a glance at the floorboards by her feet.
“I’ll give you some space,” I add, even though my heart drums incessantly in objection. I can’t leave her here by herself. Not while she’s upset. Especially not while she’s crying.
I want nothing more than to comfort her. Cheer her up. Do everything that I can to put an end to her pain. But nothing comes to mind except her one request, as much as I hate to admit it. As much as I know it’s the right thing to do.
“And you know that I’ll be here for you the moment you need me,” I continue roughly. “You know that. You have my number. Doesn’t matter if it’s three in the morning. Text me when you need me, and I’ll be right over.”
Still, she doesn’t say a word. The silence is killing me, along with the very fact that she refuses to look me in the eye. I can feel the one and only good thing I have going for me slipping through my fingers as I force myself to walk away.
I’ve barely taken two steps toward her door when she wheezes.
“I thought you said you’d never lie to me?”
“ Never .” At once, I regret that word as I swing around to face her.
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” comes out in a mere whisper.
A pang of regret ricochets through my chest. I wish I knew how to answer that question without fucking things up like I always do. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“I thought you said I was strong.”
“You are strong.”
“Do you even believe that?” Her choked sob breaks free and shreds my heart into pieces. I barely edge forward and halt mid-stride when she holds her palm out. “Are you just making things up for me because you feel bad for me?—”
“No.”
“We don’t have anything in common,” she rasps. “Why are you even with me?—”
“You see the good in me.” My voice holds firm, and her breath hitches. It takes every ounce of my willpower to remain rooted in place. “You’ve always seen the good in me, even when no one else did. Even when you heard that I was dangerous, you looked past that. You never believed that. You’re so damn kind and sweet and good to me, and you’ve never once made me feel like crap about myself.” I pause. “Except for right now, of course, for obvious reasons, which I deserve.”
A quiet snort escapes her. The corner of her lips twitches as she fights her smile. “Don’t make me laugh, Kingsley,” she grumbles. “I’m mad at you.”
“You have every right to be,” I reply. “I feel like absolute shit for not telling you the truth about Blue Balls sooner. I should have told you the moment I found out what was going on.”
She hugs her arms to her chest and casts a sidelong glance at the cat. “And… when did you find out?”
“Right before I hit on you,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck.
She blinks against her shock and furrows her brows while she processes my words. “In the back?” Her thumb goes over her shoulder. “While you were escaping the cops?”
I open my mouth to object, but she fixes me with an incredulous stare, and I wince. Yeah, I was trying to ditch them that night. There’s no point in denying it.
“At the party. One of the sorority girls told me what they did. How they paid him to go out with you,” I clarify. “Why’d you think I made a jackass out of myself in front of everybody that night?”
“Oh my God?” she strangles out. “ That’s what that was?”
With another wince, I scratch the back of my head. “If it makes you feel any better, I was pissed when I found out about their plan. I wanted to tell you right away, but… fuck . She didn’t want you to be devastated. I didn’t, either. And you looked so happy with him?—”
“Who, Caleb?”
“You wouldn’t stop smiling and laughing at all the boring ass shit he said,” I mutter. “You just looked so damn happy with him, and I didn’t want to be the guy who took it away. I like seeing you happy. The world feels brighter when you’re happy. It always has.”
Holding my gaze, she brings her wrist to her cheek and dries her tears.
“If I could go back to the night of the party,” I go on, “I’d give you a heads-up about him.”
Her hand stills. “Like how you went up to me and loudly?—”
A long groan expels from the base of my throat, and she presses her lips together to smother her laugh. “I’m never going to live that down, huh?”
“I don’t think so.” Her mouth hitches at the corner, and I let loose a chuckle.
“I wouldn’t be that tactless. I would have texted you to meet me outside so I could tell you to dump the loser.”
“You did tell me to dump him,” she mutters, clearly lost in thought.
“Reese, I swear to you,” I continue, “it was never my intention to hurt you. I wanted to tell you, but Kayla?—”
“Karla?”
“Her,” I confirm. “I wanted to tell you, but Karla said it would devastate you, and I didn’t want to do that to you. I didn’t want to be the asshole who broke the news to you and hurt you in the process.”
Her attention drifts to her fridge. To the fucking I owe you one message still scrawled onto the whiteboard. “You weren’t in on it?”
“Paying fucking Blue Balls?” I scoff, and she redirects her focus toward me. “Fuck no. I would have told the girls to get the fuck out of here with that nonsense and gave you the real first boyfriend experience you deserved.”
“I mean… you are my real first boyfriend,” she points out softly as her lips wobble. “If you think about it.”
My mouth curves into a hesitant grin. “I’m honored to be your only boyfriend.”
She snickers and shakes her head. Her smile lingers for a fleeting moment before it fades away. She peers at the floor.
I wait patiently for her to say something else, but she doesn’t. When an entire minute passes, it’s obvious she’s got nothing left to ask.
Reluctantly, I break the silence. “Still mad at me?”
She swallows audibly. “Not really? I don’t know. I’m so overwhelmed,” she admits. “I’m hurt you didn’t tell me, but you were caught between a rock and a hard place. I can see why you didn’t tell me… I wouldn’t know what to do if I were in your shoes.”
The knot in my chest begins to unravel. She’s too damn reasonable and kind. She always sees the good in people—always sees the good in me. “That’s fair, Snack Mix. Take all the time you need.” I hesitate. “Do you still want me to leave and give you some space?”
Her response is instant: a quick shake of her head. It relieves some tension from the line of my shoulders.
“Do you want me to stay?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers, and I don’t miss the reluctance in her voice.
“I’ll sleep on the springy futon if it comes down to it,” I offer, grinning when she spares me a snort. When I take a step toward her, she doesn’t seem to recoil or flinch, which is a massive improvement from a few minutes ago.
“I’m extremely embarrassed right now,” she admits as she walks into my embrace.
“That’s okay—you can feel however you want to feel.”
“You must think I’m such a loser?—”
“Hey, don’t diss my girl by calling her that,” I say, looping my arms around her waist. “I won’t allow any more slander to happen on my watch.”
“But I am one,” she mumbles into my chest. “My sister and her friends paid a guy to go out with me.”
“You’re not a loser,” I argue. “They’re losers for doing that to you. They had no right to do that to you.”
Her head pulls back, her long hair brushing my knuckles while she scans my face. Uncertainty creases the lines of her eyes. “You didn’t date me because you feel bad?—”
“Baby, I’ve wanted you for much longer than that,” I cut in. “Before I even found out about him.”
“You did?” Surprise registers on her face. “Really?”
“I’d never lie to you.” I flinch at my words, and my body becomes taut while she pulls away completely. Even though my statement is nothing but the truth, now’s not the time. “I mean it. I would have pursued you relentlessly if things had been different. If you never had a crush on Blue Balls in the first place? I would have been all over you .”
Her brows knit together. “Really?”
“Cross my heart. I didn’t want to get in the way of what you wanted, even if it sucked. You asked for my help to get some idiot who couldn’t recognize how great you are. His. Fucking. Loss. You’re the best thing to happen to me. You’re a great girl, Reese. I’m lucky as fuck just to have you in my life.”
With a soft inhale, she offers me a watery smile while her eyes begin to glisten.
My throat tightens as I reach up to gently wipe her tears away. “I mean it. As fucking ridiculous as it sounds, I’m glad I met you that night behind the coffee shop, even if it meant getting my ass curb-stomped by two whack jobs. If that night had never happened? If they had never chased me into that alleyway? We might not have ever met and, well, that’d be a crying shame.”
My grin is tentative, but it broadens when she leans into my touch.
“You’re really sweet,” Reese whispers, and she gnaws on her bottom lip for a contemplative moment. “You don’t have to leave, Dane. You can sleep on the springy futon if you want.”
I eye the furniture warily with as much reluctance as the cat did with the bell collar. It beats going home. Even if it means my back will become reacquainted with that damn spring. “Really?”
“No.” She lets out a dry laugh. “I’d like some cuddles from my boyfriend. I feel extremely lousy right now, and he’s the only person in the world who doesn’t make me feel bad at the moment.”
“I’ll give you all the cuddles you want. We can even watch one of ’em movies you like, too.”
“I’m not really in the mood for that.” Even though she hasn’t cried for a short while now, her voice is still huskier. At a lower register. “Can we watch a movie you like?”
“Don’t really have one,” I say, eliciting a horrified gasp from her, and I snort in response.
“We can watch car flicks then.”
“I’ll complain the whole time,” I warn her.
“That’s okay,” she says. “I’ll complain about the bad acting and the terrible amount of camera cuts the films manage to have in under half a minute.”
I’m unable to hold back my smile. It graces my lips as something sweet crinkles the corners of her eyes. She doesn’t flinch or pull away from me when I draw her into my arms. In fact, she falls into my embrace so easily that my heart gives an easy beat.
“Sounds like a date.”