Falling Away (Fall Away #3)

“Maybe I pushed you,” she teased. “Anyway, I like it when you push me.”

And then she pulled back, slipping into her shirt.

“I’ve got the Loop tonight.” I pulled out my hair and refastened the tie. “Tell me you’re coming.”

She slipped her feet back into her flip-flops, not looking at me. “Depends on how late my date goes.”

I rushed her, using my body to bully her into the wall again, and she laughed. “Watch it,” I threatened with a smile.

Her little grin was so cute. “I’m teasing,” she said sweetly, kissing my lips.

“For your sake, I hope so.”

There was no way in hell she was still on a fucking date.

But she nodded her answer. “Yes, I’m coming. Of course.”

I pushed off the wall, sliding my feet back into my shoes. “Just come with me now. We’ll shower, get something to eat, and go together.”

Her sigh was thoughtful. “I want to.”

“But?”

“Shane’s leaving for California soon,” she explained, sounding apologetic. “I should spend the afternoon with her.”

And I just wanted to chuck the whole damn day and crawl into bed with her. Turn off phones, strip off clothes, abandon food …

“Not to mention,” she continued, “that I want to get pretty again before I ogle you tonight.” She came up, clutching my belt in her fingers. “If I go home with you to get cleaned up, you’ll just get me all messy again.”

I laughed. “True.”

As much as I’d like to claim that I wouldn’t prey on a barely experienced girl who was on the rebound and probably sore, I wouldn’t be able to take a shower with her and not … yeah.

I held the side of her face, arching an eyebrow. “I don’t want you in his fucking car. You got that?”

She saluted, clearly biting back her smile.

After about five more minutes of making out, I led her down the stairs—no way was I doing the slide—before we really got caught. I’d paid the kid taking tickets not to let anyone else in, but if Fallon slipped through his fingers, we didn’t have long.

We headed out into the late-afternoon heat, hand in hand and smiling. The blush covering her face, her long brown hair shining in the sun, her body glistening with my sweat … Without a doubt, I fucking liked her.

Too damn much.

“K.C.?” I heard a woman call, and my gaze shifted to the side as Juliet halted and her fingers tightened around mine.

“Mother,” she replied flatly, and I turned wide-eyed at the older version of Juliet. The hair was a vibrant black, but the eyes were the same.

She was beautiful. And very fucking clean.

Her face stiffened in anger. “What have you done?” she accused, taking in her daughter’s appearance. The dirty, smudged clothes, the sweaty hair, and the owner of the hand she held. Her pained eyes left her daughter’s and flashed to me, raking her eyes up and down my body.

Only, with me, her lips turned down in disgust. I wasn’t sure if it was the way I was dressed, the way I wasn’t dressed, my long hair, my piercings, or the clear evidence that we’d just been all over each other, but one thing I did know.

It was definitely the sight of her daughter’s hand in mine that made her worried eyes turn angry and her fists clench.

“What have you done?” She looked straight at me, accusing. “What have you done to her?”

I gritted my teeth together, remembering those same words on another day. The same words spoken by my father. By Jared.

Those fucking words that told me I was a dirty, shit kid who had blood on his hands and skeletons in the closet.

“What have you done?”

CHAPTER 16

JAXON

I sat on the hood of my car, earbuds in and listening to Apocalyptica’s “I’m Not Jesus,” while I stared at the layout of the tracks on the iPad.

The dirt and sweat were gone. I’d showered when I got home from the carnival, scrubbed my skin till it was red and washed my hair twice, but I still couldn’t sit still. There was still dirt under my nails.

“What have you done?”

I tapped my foot, feeling the weight of my phone in my pocket.

Don’t call her. Don’t text her. She’s coming. She said she would.

And as soon as I saw her, got a chance to wrap my arms around her little frame, I’d forget the way her mother had looked at me. I’d forget the knife in my other pocket, the one that said I’d hurt anyone who made me feel dirty again.

She could touch me. She could touch any part of me, and that was it. Just her.

So I swallowed the jagged pill in my throat and gripped the iPad, forcing myself to focus. The Loop. The track. The money.

“Heads up!”

I jerked my head, seeing Fallon just in time to catch the water bottle she tossed. Holding it up and offering a tight smile, I watched her smile in return and walk back to Madoc, who leaned against his car, waiting for the races to start.

About a year ago, I had started working with Zack Hager, the Racemaster, who’d run races here on Friday and Saturday nights. Things were amateur back then. Mostly local high school kids racing their fancy toys that Mommy and Daddy had bought them around an unstable dirt track. My brother, Madoc, and Tate had all raced here during that time. They were illegal events on private property that everyone knew about but no one cared to stop.

And why would they? It was boring as hell.