Wreck (Fuel Series Book 2) Read online

  “Fine.” She shoves her hand back into the center of my chest and I stumble a step backward as she marches through the crowd, back toward the Supra. The ooohs sting a little and I feel heat hit my cheeks.

  “Dustin, why did you come?” Bailey’s voice lulls me to turn to my other side. I don’t have to put the same guard up with her, and frankly, I’m embarrassed from the smackdown. I shrug as I square myself with her, my mouth a crooked and very guilty smile.

  “In town to deal with Colt,” I say.

  That’s not what she means.

  “You didn’t have to be here, though. This is hers.” Bailey’s hair is shorter now, almost a pixie cut. She’s wearing silver crosses in her ears and I catch a glimpse of what I think might be a tattoo of a word on the inside of her wrist. Her parents must hate that she ever went away to college.

  “This place used to be mine.” My palms are sweating in my pockets, but I leave them there. I feel safer somehow.

  “It did. And then you left.”

  Bailey’s arms cross her chest and I note the accusatory tone in her voice. She’s not wrong. I did. It’s just, I can’t understand why nobody seems to get all the nuances that came along with that decision. I know the details weren’t public, but they had to see Colt around town when he got out. I read about the big arrests that came a year after he was out of prison, about the plea deal he took to take out some of the major cartel players. Simple math explains how dangerous it was for me to be around that. To expose Hannah to that.

  “Nice tattoo.” I nod toward her wrist, changing the subject. I’m being a bit self-righteous in my response. I’ve got Hannah’s initials over my heart, buried under the vibrant T-shirt hugging my chest.

  “Thanks. Hannah and I got them together, when she was at rock-fucking-bottom.” She tightens her grip on herself, rolling her wrist inward to bury the word against her body. She’s hiding it from me, which makes me wonder if it’s all a bunch of bullshit and her tattoo is something frivolous and Hannah doesn’t have one at all.

  “Oh, yeah? What does it say? Nowhere but up from here?”

  Fuck, Dustin. That was shitty to say.

  Bailey’s eyes harden and her body flexes with a deep breath before she unfurls her arm and holds her wrist out for me to read.

  “Mine says TODAY, because I need to learn to live the moment.” Her mouth twitches angrily, and I soften a little.

  “That’s . . . nice. I like it. Sorry.” I scratch at my chest, where Hannah’s initials burn my skin.

  “You want to know what hers says?” Bailey pushes into me a step, cutting off my air and my sense of escape. I glance around, and thankfully everyone nearby seems to be minding their own business.

  “It’s okay. It’s personal. If she wanted me to know, she’d—”

  “Hers says TOMORROW. Because she needed to learn how to live until it came. Over . . . and over again.”

  My mouth goes dry and my throat closes. I shut my lips and briefly flit my gaze to Bailey’s as I nod. Why didn’t her dad tell her the truth? Why did he let her suffer so much, be so sad?

  “I see,” I utter.

  “Yeah. You see. Your eyes are wide open now, aren’t they? I never should have called you. It was wrong of me. You should have stayed gone. If you have any heart left at all, Dustin—”

  “I understand. I’ll take care of my business and be gone in a few days. I’m . . . I’m sorry. Tell Hannah . . . you know what? Don’t tell Hannah anything. You’re right. I shouldn’t have come.”

  I pull one of my hands from my pocket and hold up a palm. My heart squeezes so hard I swear it’s shrinking, shriveling into itself. Bailey put me in my place. This was so unfair of me. It was selfish. Because I’m ready to move forward with Hannah doesn’t mean she is. I’m armed with the truth, and she still only sees the pieces. I’m not sure how to let her in, though. No matter what, at the end of the day, I left. I left without warning, and without a word. Warranted or not, she has every right to hate me for it.

  The roar of engines fills the air as I sulk back to my rental car. Instead of slipping inside, though, I pull myself up on the hood and lean back to look at the stars. It’s a special kind of dark out here. That’s the one thing this place has in common with Uncle Jeff’s land in Oklahoma. Wide open skies filled with diamonds.

  I’ll keep my promise. I’ll leave. I’ll be gone before Hannah sees me again. But I’ll be damned if I’m not going to stick around and see my baby girl race. All the Colt Bridges in the world can’t keep me from this.

  2

  I swear, if Bailey asks me if I’m all right one more time, I’m going to push her out of the car when I make the flip and revel as she tumbles down the road.

  Wow, that was dark.

  Ignoring her last words of concern, I turn my attention over to the feeling. Am I vexed a little? Sure. Dustin showed up after four years of complete and utter silence, and I’m about to rev his old car up to one-eighty in the dead of night with my best friend in tow. She may have a reason to be concerned. But I’m fine.

  “I’m fine.” My response is so delayed it causes a major brow scrunch on Bailey’s forehead. I meet her stare. “I’m just anticipating you asking again. For last time, and for the time coming up—I’m fine.”

  My palms are sweating and it makes things feel off. My bare legs glisten with perspiration too because it’s hotter than an engine block outside. I can’t run the air because I need every ounce of power to compensate for my shifting. I’m rusty. It happens every time I’m gone for a semester. One or two races, though, and my groove is back.

  It wouldn’t be a big deal if I didn’t have a mountain of pride to defend tonight. I’m not worried about winning. Dustin’s car could probably take this kid on its own, driven with nothing more than a garden shovel jammed in place to hold the gas pedal down. It’s more than showing off what I can do in his car. This is about showing him what I can do without him. It’s about proving I’m still whole, that he didn’t break me.

  Only, he did.

  Dustin Bridges broke me into a thousand and one pieces. And rather than putting them back together, I merely swept them to the side and invented a whole different me. His presence ruins that. Seeing him is a reminder of who I was before he left. It stirs feelings, scratches at memories, and hollows out my insides. I can’t afford that.

  Tomorrow.

  That’s what it’s been about for the last four years. Learning how to put one foot after the other, how to get through one task and on to the next. I’ve found a balance between excelling at school and living on the edge. If Dustin knew the kinds of things I’ve done while he’s been away, he’d see that I’m not the same girl at all.

  This Hannah Judge isn’t afraid of swimming naked in front of frat boys. She thrives off of their attention, especially knowing that she’ll never give in and say yes to any of them. She walks through fire, literally. Twice—because someone dared her to. And she’s getting ready to leap from an airplane for the third time next fall, only one jump away from getting to do it solo. Roaring down the Straights in the middle of the night isn’t about venturing to a wild side for me, not anymore. It’s about keeping up my skills, scratching an itch, and reminding myself where center is. Racing is the only thread I’ve let remain that connects me to Dustin. And now that he’s shown up and ruined it, I think it might be time to cut ties there too.

  “You ready, lady?” Ava’s lips pucker as she pats my window frame. I give her a confident smile.

  I roll the window up as she walks around the front of the Supra and crosses the short distance to the new kid, Kyle. He’s wearing gloves, which Bailey cannot stop laughing about. My best friend has been with me for every dangerous step of my journey. I’ve leaned on her, needed her. But I think this has been good for her in a way. She’s blossomed. In the last year, she’s stood up to her parents, resisting their demands that she study law and follow in her father’s footsteps. She wants to go into psychology, and I think she’s meant to. Sh
e has this deep understanding of what makes people tick, and her advice—and her welcoming ears—have made a world of difference for me these past four years.

  I give a polite nod to Kyle. I’ll give the kid this, at least he seems to treat me with respect. I’ve raced a few other teen drivers who have wandered out here over the summer, bored and looking for a thrill. They’re quick to comment on me being a woman and somehow that makes a difference in my ability to shift and haul ass. Kyle’s a local boy, though. New, but he’s learned quick. Maybe I won’t totally embarrass him.

  Ava saunters through the dust lit up by our headlights, and she turns to face us when she’s a few dozen feet out in the road. My body still doesn’t feel right, but there’s no time to dwell on it. I blow on my palm since everything else on me is soaked with sweat and I caress the shifter knob, settling into my zone.

  Like Dustin, my instincts take over as soon as Ava’s hand drops, and I compensate for my slippery palm within seconds by gassing my way up over sixty in a blink.

  I didn’t realize how homesick I’d become for the vibrations of the Supra’s engine until now. It tickles my chest, and my lips buzz with the pleasing numbness that comes along with the hard ride. I crack one-twenty, and am starting to see separation from Kyle. I quit focusing so much on my competition in my periphery. It slows me down. This world, it’s about trusting yourself, trusting your skills. That’s something Dustin taught me. Tommy, my brother, honed it for me.

  “He’s toast,” Bailey shouts at my side. The perk of having a passenger is an extra set of eyes.

  My chest opens up and my shoulders automatically relax with the knowledge that the pressure is off. Once I make the turn, Kyle won’t be able to hang. I wouldn’t be surprised if he just keeps on driving. The satisfying smile that lives on my lips every time I conquer something begins its initial stretch, and I sit up and flex my muscles, readying my body for the turn.

  “Oh, fuck! Hannah, stop! Stop, stop, stop! Kyle flipped. Kyle fucking flipped!”

  It takes my body a few seconds to understand the signals my brain is sending, my mind still unraveling the reality of Bailey’s warning. For a moment, I’m not even sure who Kyle is or where we are. I’m simply living the moment and feeling the numb bliss that accompanies driving so fast.

  I fishtail to a stop when her words register, and we both fling open our doors and burst out onto the road, hands on our foreheads as our senses take in the clues. The burnt rubber stench is strong, and there’s the faint glow of smoke in the moonlight. The road is lit up enough to show that it’s clear, which means Kyle is off to the side.

  “Get in,” I command, rushing into the driver’s side and shifting to drive. Bailey climbs in and leans forward, her palms flat on the dash as her eyes scan the roadway. Headlights flash ahead in pairs, and I know others saw what happened. They’re coming to help. Someone’s called nine-one-one.

  “I see him! There!” Bailey points ahead, to the left, and the faint outline of a spinning tire and the underside of a Honda Civic comes into view. I pull to the side of the road and we both rush out of the car, sprinting to the driver’s side of Kyle’s vehicle.

  “Kyle! Are you okay? Can you hear me?” Bailey screams, her voice wavering. We’re both in shock.

  I tug on the door handle, but it doesn’t open. There’s movement inside, though, and a smear of blood across the glass. The front windshield is blown out, almost completely. I’m about to snake my way along the ground to reach Kyle when someone literally lifts me in the air and carries me several feet away.

  “Bailey, get her out of here! Go!” Dustin points toward the Supra, his eyes glowing, teeth gritting. He rushes back to the flipped car and slides on his stomach through the broken glass until he reaches Kyle. He grips his forearm and pulls, and groans echo in the night air.

  “He’s okay. Hannah, he’s okay,” Bailey stammers as she clutches my side.

  I take long backward strides, not wanting to leave the scene but understanding what Dustin’s worries are. I smell it. Gasoline.

  Sirens whine in the distance, and as much as law enforcement looks the other way when it comes to the Straights, it’s not a great idea to be hanging around. A few more guys have shown up to help Dustin pull Kyle free, so we wouldn’t be abandoning him. We’ve made it back to the car, and the engine is running. It would be the responsible thing to gain some distance, to make room for the fire engine and the medics.

  Something has me glued to the scene, though. Yeah, to an extent I feel responsible. But it’s more than that. It’s . . . someone.

  My head swings toward Bailey, her eyes glued to the now-flaming scene in front of us.

  “Take the car.”

  She jerks her head to face me.

  “Not without you.” Her lips pucker and eyes draw in tight, but it’s no use. I’m not leaving. I have to make sure Kyle is okay.

  I have to make sure Dustin is okay.

  “Bailey, go!” I bark at her. She blinks rapidly, and I can tell she’s torn.

  “I’ll be right behind you. I have to help.” I don’t bother elaborating, packing on about my concern for Kyle. She’d see right through it. She must sense my resolve, because she growls out in frustration and rounds the front of the car to the driver’s side.

  “I’m not leaving until you meet me back at the start.” She points at me for added impact. I get the undertone—I’m not going home with Dustin.

  “Okay,” I agree. I mean it, too. I appreciate her looking out for my heart, but I’m not the frail heartbroken nymph I was when he left town. I’ve got calluses, hard-earned ones. Painful ones. I don’t intend to waste them by letting Dustin gain space inside my heart or my head. I just have to make sure he doesn’t get physically hurt. That’s all.

  Bailey makes a U-turn and stares at me pointedly as she drives by slowly on her way back to the start. I’m sure the crowd has thinned. No doubt Matty has gone. He has the most to lose. Ava’s probably holding down the rest. She can’t help but feel like the mother of all of us. She’ll want to make sure the kid is all right.

  I remain several yards away, the smoke building and the smell toxic. I pull my T-shirt collar up over my mouth and nose, holding it to my face with cupped hands. My eyes stay on Dustin as he works to get to his feet, Kyle clutched in his arms. Jimmy and a couple of other regulars out here helped clear out the glass, but blood drips down Dustin’s forearm. He didn’t wait for it to be safe; he went in and got him.

  Firefighters rush from the truck that pulled up, and two of them go to work unraveling hose right away. The others race toward Dustin and Kyle with a backer board, meeting them a safe distance from the overturned car, but not quite to me. My vision tunnels, and my knees buckle a little. I catch myself before I fall, though. Turning my back to the scene, I pace away. I’d like to think it’s the smoke getting to me, but I know better.

  I was holding my breath.

  I was imagining the what if.

  I mentally saw Dustin lying there on the ground, medics cutting open his shirt and calling for air transport.

  “Hey, they’ve got this. Come on.” A familiar touch accompanies the voice that still haunts my dreams, and I shirk away.

  “I’ll walk,” I say, not bothering to meet Dustin’s eyes.

  His arm is bloody. If I see it close up, I’ll want to care for it. And I don’t want to care about anything having to do with Dustin ever again.

  “You’re being irrational. Let me take you to Bailey. My car’s right here.” His steps match mine, and I know if I run I will either look ridiculous or he’ll run right along with me—and we’ll both look like lunatics.

  “Fine. I’m riding in the back, though.” I turn on my heels and march toward some family sedan-looking thing that puts a superior smile on my lips. “Nice car, by the way.”

  Dustin chuckles behind me, but before I can rip open the back door on my own, his arm crosses my path, his palm covering the handle.

  “My other car seems to be occupied,�
�� he says.

  I blink at his hand, hyper-focusing on his knuckles that are only mildly gashed from the glass-covered roadway.

  “You lost that car when you abandoned it.”

  My front teeth come together and my nostrils twitch with my brewing resentment. There’s double meaning in my words. Dustin knows it, too. His hand slips from the handle and his feet drag along the blacktop behind me. He moves to the driver’s side and gets in, shutting the door but not leaving without me. The engine is still on from when he drove up. My chest heaves twice, the last emotion I’m going to let myself show for this moment. I let the stench of burning oil cover anything alive in my soul then tug open the back door and climb inside.

  We’re maybe a mile from everyone. Probably less. The distance seems to double every few yards we travel. Dustin is purposely driving slow. Partly because of the situation, I’m sure, but I also think maybe he’s prolonging time with me. It’s no use. I haven’t inhaled once since I got in the car. If I can make it, I’m going to avoid breathing the same air as him. I won’t share anything with him. Ever.

  “Looks like almost everyone’s gone. Have Bailey take you straight home.”

  My eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and squint. Regardless of the temptation to respond to him with a million retorts, I don’t take a breath or part my lips. I’ll go where I want. He doesn’t get a say in that. I’m not a naïve teenager anymore.

  His eyes flit up to meet my gaze and rather than pull away, I keep my focus right where it is. After a few seconds he breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, shifting in his seat and propping his wrist on the steering wheel.

  My hand reaches for the door handle as we close in on Bailey, Ava, and the few others remaining, and I open the door before he comes to a complete stop. I stumble a little as I exit, but I cover it with a jog, slamming the door behind me as Dustin shouts, “Hey!” I suck in air, filling my lungs and mentally congratulating myself for holding my breath. Such a stupid victory, but still, one that’s mine. Every victory counts.