“Surviving,” I tell her, not expecting the raw emotion welling up inside of me.
“If you ever need to talk or just want to get something off your chest, even if it’s to complain about the ridiculousness of my son, I’m here. No matter what, you can always count on me.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “That means a lot. I’ve never had someone that I could talk to like that.”
She takes me by the shoulders and holds me back to look me in the eyes. “Consider yourself my new adopted daughter,” she tells me proudly before looking across at her son. “Cruz, meet your brand-new sister.”
I bite my tongue at the horror that stretches across his face. “No,” he says, shaking his head and grabbing my arm. He steps into me and murmurs, keeping it loud enough for his mother to hear. “Back away slowly. Girlfriend, fuck buddy, even enemies I’m okay with, but I draw the line at siblings. It ain’t gonna happen.”
His mother laughs, but before I can say anything else, he’s pulling me back the way we came. “Where’s dumb and dumber?” he asks her.
She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulder. “Who would know? You know how your brothers get when we come back home. They’re probably over with the Winston boys again. Who knows? But if you happen to see them, send their butts home. Their bedrooms are a mess and they’ve tracked dirt all through my living room.”
“Will do,” he says, pulling me out before I even get a chance to say goodbye.
Cruz drags me through his home, getting faster and faster by the second. “Where are we going?” I ask as he makes it far too obvious that he has a destination in mind.
His eyes light up like New Year’s fireworks as he beams back at me. “I’ve been dying to show you this.”
I groan as he doesn’t give away a damn thing. He stops by a door, and without giving me a second to catch myself, he pushes straight through to his massive garage, and I gape at the collection of bikes that take up the far side.
He hurries through the garage still holding onto me, but this time he doesn’t need to drag me because I think I might even be going faster than he is. “What the hell, Cruz? You’ve been hiding all of this in here this whole time? Fuck me.”
My greedy gaze sweeps over his impressive collection, and I watch as he walks straight to the Harley Davidson that sits front and center, matte black just like my Ducati. “Check her out,” he says, running his fingers over the sleek curves and practically drooling. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
Damn. Is it possible to be jealous of a bike?
He looks at it with such adoration that I can’t help getting a little closer. He straddles it and I instantly climb onto his lap. He reaches around me, and I feel the vibration of the bike shoot straight through to my core. “Wanna ride?”
“Don’t I always?”
A grin kicks up the side of his mouth and he holds me tight as the garage door slowly peels open. I go to twist around him to sit behind, but he doesn’t let me go. “Stay,” he dares, knowing damn well that I wouldn’t be able to resist.
And just like that, Cruz goes flying out of the garage with me sitting in front of him, and my legs wrapped securely around his waist. The wind hits the back of my head and whips my hair over my shoulder, only just missing Cruz’s face as he reaches around me and grips the handlebar.
We hit the main road and I can’t help but laugh, only now just realizing that in all that, I never actually learned his mother’s name. I’ll have to ask later, because right now, Cruz is taking me for the ride of my life. I know it’s fucking stupid and just asking for trouble, but I trust him blindly with my life. He won’t let me fall. Besides, how could I possibly resist the joy that spreads across his face while having his two favorite things between his legs and the opportunity to forget the damaged world around us?
CHAPTER 17
My bedroom door swings open, and I fly up out of bed only to find Ember standing in my doorway. “What the fuck happened yesterday?” she demands, walking straight in and dropping onto the edge of my bed. She crawls in beside me and lays her head down, only to cringe when the massive lump on the side of her head presses against the pillow.
She sucks in a sharp breath, her hand falling to the side of her head and gently feeling the evidence of yesterday’s attack. She meets my stare, her eyes filled with panic. “Please tell me that’s a zit the size of an egg on the side of my head and not a fucking lump from getting punched by a psychotic douchebag.”