Bri pushes his arm off her shoulder and watches the scene before her with disinterest. “I’m sure if your asshole friend wasn’t such a fucking asshole, I would probably take a second to watch the show,” she tells him. “I might even pretend to enjoy watching you idiots swing your dicks around when they’re so clearly overcompensating for something else, but right now, all I want to do is tear shreds off the piece of shit standing next to me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to grin. Can’t lie, that fiery attitude gets me worked up in more ways than one, but right now, I really don’t know if she’s referring to the essay or the intrusion into her room over the weekend.
Riley laughs. “Have at him, babe. There’s something special about watching you tear that fucker apart.”
I resist glaring at Riley as he steps away, moving toward Hudson to watch the show up close and personal, and just like that, the rest of the world fades away and it’s just me, Brielle, and the heaviness resting between us.
She turns to face me, crossing her arms, the essay awkwardly poking out from beneath her elbow. “We need to talk.”
“The fuck we do.”
The longer I keep my stare on the trucks, the more rage that seems to shoot out of her, and so be it. She finally sighs and drops her arms before stepping out onto the road to turn to face me directly, only a wave of fear rocks through me and I lunge forward, gripping her arm and yanking her back onto the safety of the pavement. “The fuck are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed? One slip and these trucks could spiral out of control.”
“Bit like how you’ve been doing?” she throws back at me before huffing and settling back in beside me. She knows I’m right, but that doesn’t stop her from arguing about it. “If one of those cars is going to spiral out of control, do you honestly think one step further onto the pavement is really going to save me? Jesus, Tanner. You’re not too bright, are you?”
I lower my stare, meeting the rage reflected in her own. “Is there something you need, Killjoy?”
“Yeah,” she scoffs, holding the essay up and practically shaking it in my face. “You can stop messing with my life. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?”
I shrug my shoulders, more than ready to make matters worse. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She gapes at me, and I can see the fury pulsing through her veins, boiling deep in her stomach. “You … You asshole,” she screeches. “It’s one thing to mess with me, to sneak into my room and write shit on my wall and call me a fucking whore for my ex, but this is too far, Tanner. This is my future. Unlike you, I don’t have a long list of colleges begging me to sign on the little dotted line, and I sure as hell don’t have parents who’ll fork out stacks of cash to secure a spot either. My grades are all I have. They’re my only shot at getting into a college and actually making something of myself. Screw with me however you want, call me whatever you want, and use me to rage about your fucking problems—that doesn’t matter to me, but don’t ruin the one good thing I’ve got going for my future.”
Fucking hell. Why does that make me feel like such a low life cunt?
A loud snap echoes through the street and my eyes bulge out of my head. Before I can even think, I reach for Brielle and slam her down to the ground, my body coming down on top of hers just moments before the heavy chain snaps off the tow balls and flings through the air like a rotating blade, destroying everything in its path.
The trucks launch forward as the chain sails right over our heads, whooshing past us and smashing through the front window of Channing’s formal dining room, probably destroying everything inside it.
Brielle stares up at me wide-eyed, her chest heaving with the realization that a split second longer and she could have lost her fucking head. “You saved my life,” she breathes.
I stare down at her, the feel of her body beneath mine doing something to me that scares the shit out of me. “I don’t suppose this makes us even for the essay?”
“Over my dead body,” she tells me as I listen to the sounds of both Jax and Logan trying to regain control of their trucks, both of them probably shitting themselves. I push to my feet, reaching down for her hand and pulling her up and right into me, my gaze roaming over her body, making sure she’s not hurt.
Brielle shoves against my chest, forcing space between us that I can’t stand, and damn it, I hate that I see hesitation in her eyes, but it’s only there because I forced it between us. She’s feeling this just as much as I am and I hate how much I’ve been hurting her, but I’m no good for her, and I think she’s finally starting to see that.
She takes another step away, unable to tear her gaze off mine until Riley slams into her, his hands gripping her shoulders and spinning her around, his stare wide and panicked. “Are you okay?” he rushes out, looking over her from head to toe. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she tells him, discreetly pulling out of his grip as Jax gets out of his truck and checks the back, a booming laugh tearing out of him as Logan just gapes, realizing just how bad that shit could have been.
“HOLY FUCK,” Jax laughs. “Did you see that shit?”
“See that shit?” Logan fires back, his eyes wide. “We nearly killed the new chick.”
“But we didn’t,” Jax says, always trying to find the silver-lining with every fucked-up situation we put ourselves into. “Either way, I was killing it. Did you see that? I was smoking your ass.”
“In what world were you smoking me?” Logan demands, walking back down the street to meet his brother in the middle. “I had you the whole time. I was just waiting for you to figure it out on your own. The Silverado’s got nothing on my RAM.”
And so it starts.
They go at each other, and within seconds, fists are flying, leaving Bellamy to dive in after them, taking an elbow to the jaw, which naturally sends Riley into the middle of it too.
“I, ummm …” Brielle says, watching the fight, not impressed in the least. Her gaze flicks back to me before bending and scooping the essay off the ground. “I’m not sticking around for this testosterone fueled shit, but for the record, you need to fix this.”
She shoves the essay into my chest, and I watch as she takes off back toward the house, more than likely with the intention to ignore the smashed window in the formal dining room. “And if I don’t?” I call after her, knowing damn well that I will. When I changed her essay, we were in a better place. That was before I hurt her, before I crushed her, and before everything I said over the weekend. I owe this to her. Shit, I owe her a lot more than that.
“Then I’ll tear shreds off your ass,” she tells me.
The door closes between us, and with it, she takes my will to resist. I need to make this right. I’ve hurt her over and over again and still she’s right there.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Hudson says, and without hesitation, all four of my friends drop a knee, their right hand resting over their hearts as they bow their heads in commiseration. “Let us all take a moment to remember our fallen soldier. He was one of the best, a fighter, racer, and proud man with balls the size of Texas, yet so easily broken by none other than a lone, stray pussy. What hope do the rest of us have?”