“Excuse me?” she asked quietly.
“Give me your car key, Natasha.”
“Daddy, you don’t—”
“Young lady. We had an agreement. You deliberately defied me. Give me the key.”
“I understand,” she answered patiently. I sure as fuck didn’t understand. “But I need my car for a while longer. How else will I drive to school? To work?”
“M-me.” I had a car. I could drive her wherever she needed to go. I hated the idea of her begging her father for anything.
Her eyes tracked up to mine. I stroked her cheek tenderly, saving my anger for the two pricks in the room.
“You have mmme,” I murmured, my mouth wrestling with that pesky M.
“Thank you.” She said it so softly, I almost didn’t hear it. Then she pulled the fancy digital key fob from her pocket and pressed it into my palm. I was so damn proud of her. I tossed the fob onto the marble floor. It skidded to a stop at her father’s feet. Then Tasha and I walked to the door.
I used to believe she was a daddy’s girl who would do anything to please him. Seemed to me Morton had been trying to control her with money instead. That was the wrong tactic for a woman like Tasha. He could’ve won her loyalty by showing her respect. It was a lesson I’d recently learned myself.
I shut Tasha inside my car, seething as I climbed into the driver’s seat. Every part of me wanted to march back into that house and separate Tony’s head from his skinny neck. Tasha must have noticed the tension stringing my arms, because next she rested a hand on my chest.
“Breathe.”
I took one deep breath.
“One more.” Her touch went a long way to calming me down.
“That’s better,” she said before leaning over and placing a kiss on my lips. I savored it before taking another deep breath and filling my chest. “Where are you taking me?”
“Surprise.” I turned over the engine, not trusting myself to attempt a complete sentence.
“Oh! One sec.” She ran to her Z4, returning with her backpack. She sent me a brief look of apology, but I didn’t argue. I took the pack, thought of the straws and books inside, feeling differently about it. Now her pack was a symbol of how she’d risked everything—including her father’s approval—for me.
I set it on the backseat, feeling a lump in my throat form. She cared. About me. About helping me speak again. She’d put me ahead of herself. There was only one woman in my past who’d cared about me more than herself. Joyce.
Guilt needled me as I backed out of the driveway. I hadn’t been very nice to Joyce since I learned she wasn’t my real mom. In retrospect I understood that she’d been trying to protect me. She loved me, after all. I promised myself I’d remedy our relationship soon.
Tasha
My hair whipped in the wind as the miles sped by to our undisclosed location. I still couldn’t believe Cade had walked into my father’s house with no fear or reservations whatsoever. He’d spoken in my defense, a big deal considering he refused to speak in front of anyone in case he stumbled. I was so proud of him.
I was also worried about his promise to be my personal Uber. I knew he meant well, but did he really want to spend part of every day shuttling me hither and yon? But damn, it was so worth the moment he’d thrown the key down like a gauntlet.
The sun was setting, the sky fading into pastel purples, oranges, and yellows the way it did this time of year. Cade was in his element behind the wheel—either in my smooth-as-butter BMW or in a Camaro with a blubbering motor. He was born to drive.
He navigated out of the pretty part of town and into the more rundown part, until we arrived at a destination familiar to both of us: Alley Road.
The site of his accident. An accident I’d witnessed from far away, my blood going as cold as the icy winter wind that night. Everyone had scattered after the ambulance had been called. Most of that crowd had been drinking alcohol or had weed in their pockets, and nearly all of them had placed bets on the race. Alley Road wasn’t where a college student wanted to be when the authorities arrived. It was as if a mutual understanding had been reached. Cade had been the sacrificial lamb.
I hadn’t scattered that night. I vaguely remembered the friends I’d arrived with hanging around long enough to ensure I was all right, but when the sirens came closer, they’d bolted too. Miraculously, Cade hadn’t died or gone to jail. My chest swelled with gratitude so acute, I squeezed his arm as a physical reminder that he was still here.
He pulled to a stop and parked in front of the fire hydrant that had stolen his voice. I threaded my fingers with his and waited for what, I didn’t know. We sat in silence for so long that when he spoke, I jerked in my seat.
“I was truh-trying to save him,” he said softly. Tightness pulled his mouth into a flat line.
“Who?”
He took off his sunglasses and threw them onto the dashboard. His light brown eyes flicked to mine. “Dad.”
“Well. You did. He’s not gambling anymore. He’s doing well, isn’t he?”
“Y-you tell me.” Cade rubbed his fingers together, the universal symbol for money, and I knew he was referring to the envelope Paul had offered and I had refused. Embarrassed, my cheeks warmed.
“I couldn’t accept it after you kissed me. It felt wrong. And I wasn’t about to stop. I liked kissing you too much.”
“I like kissing yuh-you, T-Tasha.” My name was said on a low whisper as he lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles along my cheek. He sucked in a frustrated breath, I assume because of his prevalent stutter.
How could I have ever thought I hated him?
“Did you t-talk to him about me?”
“Paul?” I asked.
Cade shook his head. “Dumbass.”
“Oh, you mean Tony.”
A low laugh came from Cade’s throat, and gooseflesh cropped up on my arms. I loved his laugh. Loved the dimple that appeared when he laughed. Loved the way the sound eased the tension in the air. Well. Not all the tension. There was a lot of sexual tension in this car.
“I might’ve let him believe we’d…you know.” I looked at my hands.
Cade lifted my chin. His gaze burned into mine when he whispered, “I want to.”
God, me too.
His mouth slanted over mine. I’d never been kissed the way Cade kissed me. His lips were confident and sure, their firm insistence unyielding. I knew he wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want him to. Except for the mirror thing, and he’d eroded my resistance in a matter of seconds. His motivation had been pure—he’d done that for me.
I couldn’t believe I’d squandered so much time on Tony Fry. How had I convinced myself that he was worth the sacrifice of my own self-esteem? How had I let him take chunks out of me and accepted his opinion as the cold, hard truth? And to think I’d once considered a future with him.
Cade pulled his lips from mine. Frowning, he murmured (stutter-free, I might add), “Where do you go when I kiss you?”
I blinked up at him. “I—nowhere.”
Like he wanted to hear my rambling regrets. Or how every time I thought about my future I saw Cade with a big question mark following.
“Stay with me,” he murmured against my lips. Given my scattered thoughts, for a second I thought he meant that I should stay with him for good. Then he closed his lips over mine and I knew he meant during the kiss. One of his hands threaded into my hair as the light scruff on his jaw scratched my chin.