Chapter 12 Amy
Every race puts me in this same kind of nervous state.
They mess with my head—pins and needles, cotton mouth, and this fleeting, feverish feel.
Throw in a little adrenaline and the excitement of a solid challenge, plus memories of all those times I would sneak out of bed to watch Dad race, and I know the drill.
I know these feelings like the back of my hand, and yeah, I’ll admit it—I missed them.
I stomp my feet to work off the tension and glance over at my car. Lewis is still sitting there. He probably needs a moment to take it all in, and I don’t blame him.
We won.
We came in first.
I like seeing him in my Pontiac like that, I realize.
Before I have time to dwell on it, I’m being swept up by the crowd. I keep my eyes on Tyler. There are too many people around for him to try any funny business, and I know he’s harmless, really—but I plan on watching my back all the same.
I’m still staring him down when I see Lewis picking his way through the knot of fans, yelling something at me I can’t understand. He’s moving too fast for me to make sense of it.
And too fast for me to respond when he swoops in for a kiss.
It’s barely anything—just a feather-soft, sweet brush of his lips against mine—but my head spins anyway. And suddenly the day feels like too much—too loud, too fast, too full of him.
I don’t know if this is something he actually wants, or if I’m just the nearest place to unload all that coiled tension inside him, but my heart is beating so hard it’s painful.
I freeze-frame his smile, the happiness shining in his eyes, tucking it away in my memory, because I already know I’m going to need it later.
Then I shove him away.
This isn’t me. I am not this girl—the one who melts at kisses. I can’t be her. Not now.
I put more distance between us before I can change my mind.
“Let’s get the key they had made, and get the hell out of here,” I suggest as I stride over to the Dodge. “Hang back, Conley. Just hold your horses until I figure this shit out.”
“You are such a buzzkill.”
My steps slow the closer I get to Tyler. He’s eyeballing me, jaw tight, nostrils flared. People are flocking in a circle around us, and the moment is perfect.
“You put up a good fight,” I start, sizing him up.
“How’d you do it?”
“You thought a pickup would be enough to take me down?”
I shoot him my nastiest smirk before jerking my chin at the Dodge. Tyler glances this way and that, looking for backup.
Not happening, buddy.
Even his actual friends are nowhere to be seen. Everyone stares at him expectantly. We all know the rules—and anyway, this was his challenge. A bet he threw down on the table. Game over, bitch!
He tosses me the key, which I fling back over my shoulder to Lewis, watching as he catches it in midair, clinging to it for dear life.
Our eyes meet. He’s holding up well. Sticking to the plan, doing what I told him to do.
But I can tell he’s this close to falling to the ground and covering the key with kisses. What’s with the kissing obsession, Amy?
I shake off the memory of Lewis’s tongue in my mouth, and turn back to Tyler. I won—true. But I need to make sure word gets around that I’m not doing this again. This run was a one-off, and this is where the fun and games end. I’m not playing anymore. Not with Tyler, not with anyone.
I stretch out a hand and smile, and I can tell he wasn’t expecting this. He’s dropped his guard, I realize. And that’s always, always a mistake. I thought losing would make him a little warier of me, but it looks like he’s as stupid as he ever was.
Somewhere over his shoulder, I swear I hear Emil snickering. He knows the score—all my old friends do. They all know I’m not the kind of girl to shake hands with a car thief. Especially not one who tried to fuck me over with some rusty-ass pickup.
He takes my hand in his. “No hard feelings, huh?”
“No hard feelings.”
And with that, I yank down on his fingers, snapping his wrist back.
As he tries to wrestle free, I loosen my grip, letting him think he can shake his hand free.
All I’m doing is tweaking my angle, though, and the next thing he knows, I’ve got him in a headlock, my knee landing square in his balls.
His lungs drain of air as he gasps for breath, and the crowd watches on in shock.
Message received, loud and clear.
I bend down to his ear. “That’s for playing dirty.
Just be glad I didn’t mess your face up,” I snarl.
“This is your first and last warning. Next time I find you all up in my shit again, I won’t go so easy on you.
” I glance up at the onlookers. “And as for you guys… I want you to listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once.
From tonight, Sycamore Heights is out of bounds.
As in, completely out of bounds.” I widen my stance.
“So, pass it on. If I catch anyone on my turf again, they’ll pay.
I don’t need to remind you who my dad is.
All I’ll say is this—the Hitmans know how to handle themselves. ”
Cries start up all around me.
“?El Mago! ?El Mago!”
That’s the spirit.
I turn back to my car.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I say to Lewis, slinging an arm over his shoulders. “It’s time to go home. Meet you back at that motel in Deodate?”
His eyes flick from Tyler to me, and back again.
“Gimme a second.”
I don’t have time to ask what for—I don’t need to. Suddenly, Lewis is lunging for him, punching him straight in the face before Tyler can even sit up. Lewis winces, shaking his fist loose, and spits on the ground before swaggering back over to me.
My jaw is somewhere near the floor.
I guess we’re both just loose cannons.
My heart is lodged in my throat, fluttering hard. It’s like I’ve unlocked a new side of Lewis—sharp and reckless and dangerous—and let’s just say my body seems to like that.
Who knew watching him punch someone in the face would get me all lit up like this…
I stare after him in shock, watching as he slides into his precious Dodge, slipping me a wink as he fires up the engine and thunders off into the night.
“You sure know how to pick your amigos,” Emil murmurs.
I glance at him. “Like I said—no es mi amigo…”
It’s not exactly a lie. Friends definitely don’t get your heart racing like this.
“Got time for a drink, mi pequena pilota?”
“Got a long drive ahead of me. Thanks for the West loop, by the way.”
“Least I could do.”
“Make sure word gets around about the new no-go zone,” I add. “I can’t promise not to lose my shit next time.”
Emil flashes me a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the whole state hears. Fuck, that old man is lucky to have you.”
“RJ?” I brighten. “That reminds me! He said to wish you a bad case of the shits.”
“?Me cago en su madre!”
“It’s so cute how you guys pretend to hate each other’s guts.” I smile. “Anyway, I’m outta here. ?Cuídate!”
“Tú también. And if you ever decide to come home, call me. We can get married.”
I tap the side of my head, like I’m committing it to memory, and turn back to my car.
I’m ready to hit the road and get the hell out of here, but some guy’s slouched against my trunk—eyes cast downward, a faded cap pulled low over his curly brown hair. Great timing.
I did everything I could to forget him, but I guess we were destined to cross paths tonight. News travels fast here, I know—some things never change. It was easy to put him out of mind in Sycamore, but now that I’m back here, I’m stuck.
Even when my fingers brush against the door handle, he doesn’t look up.
“A little bird told me Amy Hitman was running a race. Right here in town.”
That voice. It’s unmistakably him.
“I could hardly believe it,” he says.
“Been a while, Esteban.”
“Been eight months. I tried calling you… way too many times than is healthy.”
He tilts his face up to meet my gaze, and his green eyes spark something in me.
“You just vanished, baby.”
I know. I know I did.
“It was time for me to get out of town,” I say simply. “I was treading water here; I was messing up. My life would’ve been screwed if I’d stuck around.”
“I’ve missed you, Amy. You broke me when you left,” he says softly.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice is whispering that I’ve missed him, too. But that voice isn’t one I answer to anymore.
“I was worried,” he continues.
“You knew where I was.”
The second I say it, I wish I could take it back, because it sounds like I’m giving him an in, nudging open some invisible door. I would never want Esteban to come looking for me in Sycamore Heights. He stands for everything I left behind me.
A smile plays on his lips. As sexy as ever…
He takes a step toward me, and the memories come flooding back. I suddenly feel powerless to stop him.
“Don’t tell me you’re heading back already?”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing. Raven wants me home.”
He laughs. “You think I was born yesterday? Raven doesn’t know you’re here, Amy.” He brushes a hand through my hair, his fingertips whispering against the nape of my neck. “It’s late. Why not spend the night with me? For old times’ sake.”
Whatever we were back in the day, it wasn’t exactly deep, but I can’t help how my body instinctively responds to him, how comforted I feel by just how familiar this all is. It’s easier than Lewis—easier than the unknown.
Lewis.
I take a step back and yank open the car door, putting up a barrier between us.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I shake my head. “I came here on business. Nothing has changed.”
He arches an eyebrow. “You must really like Sycamore Heights, huh? In a real hurry to get back…”
“It’s a nice place.”
“Nice place, or nice guy you found yourself out there?”
I bite my tongue. Esteban knows me like he knows himself. I can’t give him an inch, because he’ll take more than a mile—every time.
“Look after yourself, Es.”
“Don’t you worry about me.”
I slide behind the wheel and gun it, putting distance between us, my mind clearing with every mile.