Deep 6 (Multiple Love)

I glance back to the race.

Lightning wins.

It was as Damien predicted.

If winners need to be the ones who aren’t afraid to walk the line between life and death, I think I'm always going to be a loser.

19

ANDREW

Just standing next to Sandy is driving me crazy. She's wearing this soft blue sweater with a sequined heart on it that skims over all her curves in a way that's modest but tantalizing. A minute ago, Tina was practically draping herself naked in front of me, but my mind was on Sandy and all the things that I know she's got going on under her sweet preppy clothes.

She's not all sugarplums, though. Underneath, she's a girl with a strong backbone and enough sass to keep us all on our toes.

We don't need a pushover.

We need a girl who has the gumption to keep six men inspired and tethered. That isn't an easy job. In fact, I'm doubtful that it's possible, but that's just me.

Out of all of us, I'm the one thinking with his head, not his dick or his lonely heart. I'm the one who's pondering over all of the things that can go wrong rather than imagining how it's gonna feel so right.

And it will.

Taming this girl has my dick twitching in my jeans in a way that hasn't happened for a while.

I just don't trust that Tyler knows what he's doing.

It's not that I don't love him, far from it. I'd take a bullet for the guy, but he's never been one to think things through. He acts on impulse. He lives life close to the edge. It's almost as though he likes to tempt fate or death, or whatever power there is out there who gets to decide how long we have on this crazy planet.

So, here I am watching Tyler get ready to race. I don't know if Sandy's conscious that she's moved closer to me and Damien the nearer it gets to Tyler racing. Her arms are wrapped around herself as though she's braced against the cold, but to me, it looks more like she's trying to hold herself together.

Leaning in closer to her, I breathe in her sweet floral scent. "He'll be okay, you know."

"Will he?" Her pretty eyes stare into mine, searching for how I really feel. She doesn't buy the platitudes. She wants the truth.

"I'm hoping that you being here will make him think before he acts," I tell her.

"You're hoping that I'll be an incentive for him not to risk killing himself in a race that doesn't matter?" There's anger in her voice, and something scathing and sharp that I realize comes from fear.

"Yes. He needs you. Always has."

Sandy shakes her head, and I get an urge to stride over to Tyler's car, yank him out by the scruff of his shirt and tell him to sort his shit out.

Somehow, he's managed to sleep with Sandy without telling her what's kept him away for four years and managed to encourage Greg into sleeping with her too. This web is already tangled, and it's only going to get worse because I know Tyler. He doesn't talk about what's in his heart. He buries everything, then acts out because of it.

But is telling Sandy how much Tyler needs her the right thing to do?

Who the fuck knows? It's not like I'm in charted territory here.

The race begins, and Tyler is the fastest over the start line. Arden and Able have moved to the finish, but I've kept Sandy here just in case. If there's any kind of accident, we'll be too far away to witness it in detail.

"He's not going to win," Damien says, shaking his head.

"How can you tell?" Sandy asks.

"I just can." Damien glances at me, and when our eyes meet, I see what he's trying to convey. Somethings different now Sandy's here. Tyler's different.

For the first time since Sandy walked through the door of Deep Repairs and I found out who she was, I wonder if Tyler could be right. Maybe she is what we need—the glue to fix our individual wounds that can also solidify our bonds as a group.

Sandy shivers noticeably, and it's an instinct that drives me to put my arm around her shoulder and pull her closer. She doesn't resist but gazes up at me, her eyes filled with something I can't define. It's not fear or wonder or awe or anticipation but some strange mix of all of that. It's what I feel in my gut too, a sense that I'm standing on the precipice of something, about to tumble forward so fast that I won't ever find a way back.

There's an explosion of cheers for the other rider as he hits the finish first. I see Greg swear under his breath, his competitive spirit caring more for the short-term win than the longer-term gain.