“And he thinks you’re the answer to fix it?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s not going to make it easy for you.”
“I know. And bringing you into it—”
I needed to move because I was angry, so I stood and started to pace. “You’re not going to push me out again.”
He didn’t move, but he did grin.
“I’m serious, Brock. I let you push me away last time. I’m not making that mistake again. Whatever your father is up to, we face it together.”
His expression shifted, then grew intense as he stood. But I was pacing and purging, having held it in for so long because the one person I would have unburdened it on was out of my reach. I didn’t even know what was coming out of my mouth; the words were tumbling out faster than I could think of them.
I felt his hands on me, pulling me close, saw the heat in his eyes, and before I could draw a breath, his mouth was on mine. The world stopped rotating, even time stopped, as my brain memorized the moment: the feel of his lips, the soft touch of his tongue along my lower lip, the growl that moved up his throat just before his hand pulled through my hair, cupping the back of my head as his tongue pushed past my parted lips. It didn’t take long for me to participate, my fingers curling around his wrist, my tongue touching his. I’d never been kissed before, and after his kiss, I was glad I waited.
Time seemed to move differently as we explored each other. My body came alive, my longing grew, as his taste saturated my mouth, stirring my very first addiction.
When his mouth pulled from mine, I bit my lip because I didn’t want to stop. He framed my face with his hands and took my mouth again, deeper…hungrier. In my entire life, I would never forget that moment.
I didn’t know how much time passed when he pulled from me again and rested his forehead on mine, his breathing as labored as my own. Minutes passed before he whispered, “Whatever happens, we face it together.”
Mom and I were outside on the patio. The sun was setting.
“I want to tell you something, but it has to stay between you and me for now.”
Mom could tell by my tone it was important. She turned into me and gave me her full attention.
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t delicate, the subject didn’t warrant delicacy. “His father beats him.”
All the color left Mom’s face seconds before red bloomed on her cheeks.
“It started when he was little, mostly verbal, but recently, he’s been hitting him. He usually does it where no one sees, but he was careless the other day. Hit Brock in the face.”
“Son of a bitch,” Mom hissed.
“It was because of his father that he pushed me away.”
Mom pulled a hand through her hair. “That explains a lot.”
“He’s moved out. Staying at the garage where he works.”
“He’s welcome here,” Mom offered and just her offering that had me jumping up and hugging her. She hugged me back.
“I’m so sorry, Cedar. A parent wants to protect their children from the ugly in the world, but sadly, there are so many children whose ugly is at the hands of their parents.”
She pulled back and framed my face. “I know you can’t offer, not without revealing you shared this with me, but if it comes up, make the offer.”
“I will.”
Tears filled Mom’s eyes. “And his mother?”
“Doped up.” I didn’t hide my anger.
“I’m glad he’s out of that house, but…” Mom paused, searching for her next words. “Abusers need to abuse.”
“He knows he’s not heard the last from his dad.”
“Whatever we can do, Cedar. Your dad and I are here.”
Chapter Six
Brock
I’d asked Cedar to come to my work, so she dressed in jean overalls with hearts bedazzled down the one leg, a pale pink tee under it and her floral Doc Martens. Her hair was up, I preferred it down, and her glasses were sliding down her nose as she looked under the hood of the Mustang.
She was fucking adorable.
It had been two weeks since that kiss, one that I repeated as often as I could. Her taste was like her, unique and addicting. There was none of that awkwardness that happens when you first start with someone. We slid into each other’s lives like we were made for one another, and I was beginning to believe we were.
I hadn’t heard from my dad, but it was like the calm before the storm. He was up to something. Being challenged by his son, losing to his son…he wouldn’t let that stand. What scared me was I didn’t know when or where he would strike. What I did know is, when he did hit, he’d be surgical, precise, and it was going to be fucking hard.
“How did you learn about cars?” Cedar’s question pulled me back to her.
“Just kind of picked it up.”
I knew what she was thinking, the sadness behind her eyes. She’d missed it. That was on me, all fucking on me. I touched her chin, lifted her gaze to mine. “Whatever it takes, Cedar.”
She nodded then asked, “Is that what you want to do after school, work on cars or own a garage?”
Her question surprised me. Everyone I talked to assumed because of who I was that I’d be going to college. No one ever asked what I wanted. Why the fuck had I pushed away the best fucking thing in my life? I knew why, but he wasn’t going to win.
“I’m thinking about it, maybe opening my own garage.” I grabbed the rag from my pocket and wiped my hands as I mirrored her stance, with a hip to the car, when I asked, “And you’re going into design?”
“Yeah, NYU has a great program.”
“I imagine they need garages in Manhattan.” The words were out before I realized it. I didn’t have time to regret saying it because her smile was so bright, it was blinding.
“I was thinking the same.”
I yanked her close because I needed a taste. I loved the way she molded to me, how her body fit so perfectly to mine. She tilted her head back, offering me her mouth. My tongue dove in as soon as our lips touched. I moaned because she tasted so good. Her small hands moved around my back, fisting my tee as I took the kiss deeper. The sound of motorcycles pulled us apart. Dax and two of his brothers rolled into the empty bay.
Shutting off the engine, he blatantly took in Cedar, from her head, right down to her toes. I didn’t like him looking, so I pulled her behind me. Dax’s eyes moved to me, a sharpness in his expression, before he drawled, “We interrupting?”