Chapter 24 Amy
Amy Hitman!”
I’m washing my hands in the kitchen when my sister comes bursting through the door. I wince inwardly. I’m in the bitchiest mood ever, and it sounds like she’s feeling the same. This can’t be good.
My shoulders stiffen as her footsteps draw near. Just what I need before heading down to work with Esteban.
“So!” she starts brightly. “I heard some interesting news today.”
I wipe my hands dry. “Did someone tell you that no, singing to your vagina will definitely not make for a smoother birth?”
“What the hell is Esteban Flores doing in Sycamore Heights?”
My smile evaporates. What? How the…
Of course Raven was going to find out about Esteban at some point—of course she was.
He’s been working away downstairs for the better part of a month now, after all.
I just hadn’t expected her to find out so soon.
I warned him to stay off the radar, just to buy myself a little time before dropping the bomb.
“Why is he here?”
She doesn’t know he’s working in the garage, then. Which means she didn’t spot him herself—somebody must’ve told her.
“Who told you he was here?”
“Lewis. I just bumped into him at the mall. I guess you can imagine how I felt when I heard.”
Great! Conley strikes again. He ghosts me for weeks, but he still makes the time to drop me in shit with my sister. What a guy.
“Did you forget why we had to leave Brooklyn in the first place?” Raven yells.
Because of me? That’s not strictly true, though, I remind myself. It was because of him, too. Because he was always mixed up in my crap.
“I really think you need to chill, Ravy. He came down to help RJ with some cars—not because he wants to get back together.”
“Bullshit! The guy can’t stay away from you—never has.” There’s a hard glint in my sister’s eyes. “I’m warning you, Amy. I want you to listen very carefully—if you start seeing him again, you’re on your own this time.”
“You sacrificed so much for me, and I’ll never forget that.” I push past her, suddenly desperate to get away from the kitchen. “How could I? You remind me every fucking day.”
“I’m so sorry for giving a shit,” she drawls. “That guy is bad news, and you know it. And I don’t give a crap that Dad liked him, by the way—I don’t want him anywhere near you.”
How many times have we had this conversation? I’ve lost count. All I know is that Raven blames everything on Esteban. Always has. But my fuckups are mine to own.
“Look, I’m not feeling great about it all, either.
” I shrug. “But guess what? Sometimes you just have to roll with it. Now if it’s okay with you, I need to get back to the shop, and I guess I better just tell you straight-up—yes, I do have to work with him.
The sooner we get through RJ’s to-do list, the sooner he can head home.
” I give her a hard stare. “Because despite what you think, I don’t want him around, either—trust me on that one. ”
I slam the front door shut, my pulse throbbing in my head. I hate when Raven and I fight, especially when it’s over all the stuff that made us leave New York.
Esteban is waiting for me in the shop, his arms draped over the railing, and I know he had a front-row seat for the whole show.
“Your sister’s still my biggest fan, huh?” He laughs.
I recoil. I’ve done everything in my power to avoid being alone with him, but tonight I have no choice—RJ is working on-site, so it’s just me, Esteban, and the cars. If I didn’t have this Buick to finish, I’d be out of here like a shot.
I’ve tried my best to turn him off. I tapped into my pissy mood—thanks for the source material, Conley—and I’ve tried treating him like shit, but he’s had fifteen years to learn how to ride out my bitchiness. I hate my life.
“I got the muffler fixed up,” he says.
“Amazing. I’ll take it from here.” I swing around to him. “Why don’t you take the night off and head back to New York?”
“I’m good.” He grins. “I could do with getting under something—haven’t done that with you in a while.”
He nods at the Buick, but I know that’s not what he means.
“I think you should do some pumping.”
“Oh, trust me—I’ve done more than enough of that.”
I roll my eyes, grab my tools, and duck under the car.
“Remember that song you used to listen to over and over, back when you were fourteen?”
“Nope,” I say.
“Yeah, you do—quit acting like you’ve forgotten everything.”
I watch his feet as he paces around the car.
A few seconds later, guitar fills the air.
I wasn’t acting like anything—I really had forgotten the song, but all it takes is the opening bars, and the memories come flooding back.
Me and him, hanging out in his room. Him the bad boy, me on tenterhooks, waiting for a sign—the green light to throw my arms around his neck.
Being a teenager is the worst. Something stirs in my chest. It feels like those days were forever ago.
He rolls down and along the floor, until we’re lying there side by side. He turns to look at me.
“You remember,” he murmurs.
I shut my eyes. All these hours we’ve spent working on these cars the past few weeks…
It’s like I’m right back there, in that different place, some other time.
Who am I kidding? I don’t hate Esteban—I’m just scared of what he stands for, and maybe it’s because Lewis has let me down, but I suddenly feel so tired of denying the closeness I know we had for all those years.
This is a bad, bad idea—him lying there snug against me, his face an inch away from mine.
A bump of the past. A hit from another time.
Everything I swore I would never go back to.
“It’s good to see you again,” he whispers.
I can’t say it back, though I feel the same.
I wish he were somewhere far, far away. The truth is that while Esteban belongs to the past, he’s no stranger.
And that’s exactly why I was so upset to see him wash up here.
I don’t want him anymore, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that once upon a time, he mattered to me.
He was my friend when my dad died. He was my boyfriend when Raven got kicked out. He was always there for me. Always.
I can’t help but wonder how things would’ve worked out if I’d stayed in New York, and I guess it’s written all over my face, because he leans in for a kiss.
I turn my face away. Stop, Amy. Stop this.
Esteban is the same as he ever was—but I’m growing into someone new.
Everything I left behind me needs to stay back there in Brooklyn, and that includes him.
I’ve tried too hard to let him draw me back now.
I focus on the part I’m changing. The quicker I get this done, the sooner I can step out for some air.
“Tighten it a little.”
I raise an eyebrow at him and he winks.
“You—”
“Seriously, shut up!”
“Yeah, I remember. No chatting while we work, right?”
I know what you’re thinking—I’m the same old Amy Hitman. But you’re wrong.
As soon as I’m done, I roll myself back out from under the car and scramble to my feet. All I need to do now is change the two front tires, and the Buick is good to go.
I make a start on the screws, when my phone buzzes into life. I crane my neck for a glimpse of my screen and nearly drop my wrench when I see who just messaged.
It only took you another week…
I wipe my hands down on my jeans. It’s Lewis, and that surprises me, because not only have I been low on his radar this past month, a little online stalking earlier today showed me he should be in a game right now.
LEWIS: You free in an hour?
AMY: Don’t you have a game to play?
LEWIS: Yeah, heading back on court now.
My eyebrows shoot up. He messaged mid-game? Relief washes over me. Him going low contact was driving me crazy. He was just way too busy with life stuff, that’s all.
I need to work around that and remember that he does want to spend time with me, despite it all—even if it might not feel like enough.
LEWIS:??
Relax, man.
AMY: OK.
LEWIS: Amazing. I’ll come over when I’m done.
I think for a moment. Considering how late it is and the fact we’ll be hanging in my room, I’m guessing he’s not coming to discuss training, which suits me just fine—I’ve been sex-starved for a whole month now.
AMY: Sounds good. Let me know when you hit the road.
He doesn’t reply, which means he’s back on court. I toss my phone to one side, jerking my head up when I realize Esteban is standing right there behind me. Our eyes lock.
“All the guy has to do is send you a message, and that’s it? You spread your legs—just like that?” He snaps his fingers.
I don’t care if he wants to trash-talk me—I do care that he was reading over my shoulder.
“Get the fuck away from me and mind your own business,” I snarl.
“What’ve you got going on with that guy?”
“What’s it to you?”
“You gotta be kidding me.” He laughs. “Don’t tell me you fucking like him?”
I bristle. “What’s your problem, Esteban?”
“Since when do you do jocks?”
“What part of ‘mind your own business’ don’t you get?”
He falls silent, and I dart into the back room to check the tire stock before heading for the Buick.
“I’m gonna finish up here alone,” I say. “You can go now.”
He nods. “That makes sense. You wouldn’t want your boyfriend catching me here, right?”
Right.
“We’re done here.” I shrug. “So just leave.”
He’s not budging, and I’m suddenly so tired of the whole world being against me today.
“Please,” I add.
Slowly, he seems to cave. He stoops to gather up his things and turns to the front door, before stopping in his tracks and spinning around to face me.
“You can keep kidding yourself about that Lewis guy, Amy. You can carry on pretending like being here means something.”
He circles the air with his arm, and I know he doesn’t mean RJ’s shop. He can’t stand it, I realize—he actually can’t stand that I left Brooklyn.
“But you’re not fooling me,” he continues. “I know exactly who you are, Hitman. And that’ll never change.”
His words cut me to the core. I stay as still as I can.