Burnout (Jack 'Em Up Book 0) (13 page)

He leaned down and kissed me as he found both of my hands that were clenched in the sheets. Gingerly, he pried them free and laced our fingers, shifting my arms so our joined fists were next to my face.

I tried to relax beneath him, trust him not to hurt me.

“I love you,” I whispered again, hoping he’d see the truth of that in my eyes.

He squeezed his eyes closed, as if my words pained him. Then he seized my mouth in a fierce kiss and I forgot about everything but him. Only him.

Blake

I
held Delilah as she slept, watching the clock tick away the minutes toward daylight. I knew I had to leave, but I just couldn’t let her go.

She’d given me so much more than her virginity tonight.

She’d shown me unconditional love and I was still processing its aftermath deep in my heart.

She shifted in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her. I pressed a kiss to her temple and extracted myself from her bed as quietly as I could. I stared down at her peaceful face, her dark lashes resting on her cheeks, her lips slightly parted in sleep.

I glanced over as her digital clock clicked over to 3:18. Time to go. I slipped back into my clothes and grabbed my boots to carry out. Unable to resist, I placed another, longer kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too, Princess,” I whispered against her skin.

I let myself out of her room and clicked the door closed as quietly as I could before tiptoeing down the hall. Ornately framed family photos lined the walls, but I couldn’t stop to look, though I knew Delilah would’ve been just as precious and adorable when she was little.

The thick, luxurious carpet squished under my socked feet as I made my way to the stairs and down, feeling my way in the dark. My heart began to pound as I realized how incredibly stupid this was. I should’ve never been here. Even if it was the most incredible night of my life.

By memory, I rounded through the living room and moved toward the kitchen. I had my hand on the door she’d let me in through when the little light over the stove clicked on. I spun around and nearly choked on my tongue when I saw her father—the Sheriff—staring at me, his eyes steely hard, his robed arms crossed across his chest.

I blinked, not sure if I should say anything. If I should run.

But I’d been caught red-handed. I faced him. “Sir.”

His eyes narrowed further. “You’re Dean Travers’ kid, aren’t you?” It was obvious how he felt about that, disgust dripping from his voice like poison.

“Um . . . yeah.” I shifted the boots still in my hand and unconsciously gripped the doorknob.

He stepped forward, his presence menacing. “And just what are you doing in my house at three o’clock in the morning?”

“Uh . . .” I opened my mouth to come up with something, but he put up a hand to stop me.

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.” He studied me a moment, his gaze assessing, angry. “My daughter doesn’t know what she’s doing. But
you
do. Surely, you don’t think you’re worthy of her.”

My mouth gaped open. But he was right. Absolutely right. As much as I wanted to deny it, defend myself, I’d known it all along. I glanced away, feeling the hot sting of shame burning my eyes.

“Go,” he said. “Get outta here. And don’t let me catch you near my daughter again or I’ll find a reason to haul your ass to jail. Do I make myself clear?”

I met his gaze.

“I’m serious, boy. I’ll be watching.”

I nodded once then shoved out the door. I hated how the perfection of my night had just been murdered. I was right back to the ugliness that had eaten me up and brought me here to begin with. Only worse.

I jogged to my car, my shoeless feet numb and freezing. I clambered in and gunned the engine. Glancing back, I saw her father watching me from the window.

I drove away into the welcoming night, wondering how I’d survive Delilah being ripped from my life.

I got home, and thankfully my dad had passed out in his room. His bedroom door was halfway open and his snoring ricocheted through the house.

Silently, I made my way to my room and closed the door. I slid out of my clothes and let them fall to the floor as I plopped onto my back on the bed. I laced my fingers beneath my head and stared up at the ceiling. A million and one emotions filled my chest in a big, tangled mess.

As much as I tried to reason my way out of it, I couldn’t find a way. Sheriff Jackson was right. I had nothing to offer his daughter. I barely skated by with my grades, I made minimum wage at the Super Lube, I was a rebel. Even if she wanted that, it was no life for Delilah. A princess deserved a prince. And I was far from it.

As dawn crept in through my thin blinds, I was still staring at the ceiling. My gaze traced a water stain in the corner. I turned to my side and studied the photo on my dresser of me with my brother and mom. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time. Change things somehow. Maybe then, I’d have a shot at being something other than what I was.

My phone buzzed with a text. I leaned down to the floor and rifled through my jeans to grab it. I glanced at the screen and let out a gust of breath at Delilah’s words.

I love you

I ignored it, not sure how to respond.

I miss you . . . I woke up cold
, she added a minute later.

Yeah. I was cold, too. Freezing. And not from the breezy Texas morning. I turned off my phone and tossed it aside, chilled to the bone knowing I had to let her go.

Delilah

S
omething was very wrong. It had been three days since Blake and I had sex, and it was like he’d fallen off the planet. He wasn’t there when I woke up, and he hadn’t called or returned any of my texts. It was killing me.

Had I given too much, too soon?

Was he the callous player he was rumored to be?

No. I knew better. He’d made love to me like I was the most precious thing in his world. How can you fake something like that?

You couldn’t. Something else had happened. But I’d never know because he wouldn’t talk to me!

A bright, sunny spring day dawned, with not even a cloud marring the perfectly blue sky. I was itching to see him, to get out of the house.

My phone chirped and my heart jumped to my throat. But it was only Rachel. “Hello?”

“Hey, girl!” came her chipper voice. “Any word from loverboy?”

I sighed and dropped to my bed, my gaze still on my open window. I’d told Rachel the whole story the next day—I mean, who keeps something like that from their best friend? “No.”

Her sigh sang across the line. “Well . . . maybe you scared him off by telling him you love him. Guys are slower with stuff like that, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Though I wasn’t convinced. I would’ve bet my entire inheritance that he felt the same way.

“So, what’re you gonna do today? Wanna go to the mall?”

I cringed. “Not really.” I only wanted to be with Blake. I was a sad case.

“Movies?”

“No. Thanks. I think I’ll just . . .”

“Sit and mope all day?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Maybe.”

“Why don’t you just go see him? Find out what’s the deal? At least then you’ll know.”

“I don’t even know where he is,” I whined.

“Well, I’d bet he’s working today. I saw his car outside the Super Lube.”

“I can’t bother him at work.” Yet, I was tempted.

“Why not? He gets a lunch break, doesn’t he? Go wait for him.”

I stood, my gaze landing on the pillow he’d used. Where his earthy scent still clung.

“Go!” Rachel prompted, a smile in her voice. “Then call me and tell me what happened.”

“Okay,” I agreed before I changed my mind. “Okay.”

We hung up and I changed clothes then ran a brush through my hair. I slipped down the stairs, thankful the house was silent. Mom had taken Danielle to some kind of cheerleading camp and Dad was working.

With a heavy heart, I ducked into my car and took off, knowing whatever I found, it would probably change my world forever.

Sure enough, Blake’s bright blue Camaro was parked in the Super Lube lot. I glanced at my dashboard clock . . . nearly noon. I could only hope he got a lunch break soon and I hadn’t missed my chance.

I parked next to his car and waited.

About twenty minutes later, I saw him stroll out of the open bay door, his head down, fatigue or sadness covering him like an aura. I took a breath and stepped outside to face him.

He stopped short when he spotted me, his dark eyes wary.

“Hi,” I said, forcing my voice to be brighter than I felt.

He took a few steps closer. “Hey.”

I hated that he wouldn’t hold eye contact. “Why haven’t you called?”

He froze, his eyes closed as if in pain. Then, without a word, he opened them and kept walking until he was at his driver’s side door. He popped the locks and slid inside.

I couldn’t believe it. Was he ignoring me?

I lunged for the passenger door and ripped it open. “Hey!”

“Get in,” he said, his voice tightrope thin.

I sat heavily, suddenly realizing that he was about to break up with me. There was no other explanation for the haunted, detached look in his eyes.

He glanced at me. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

Hurt roared through me. “Everything? For sleeping with me? For making me love you? What?”