Burnout (Jack 'Em Up Book 0) (15 page)

I indicated him with a tip of my chin. “Blake’s friend. His name’s Jesse.”

She ignored me and placed her order for a hot fudge sundae. Ha.

Once we had our treats, we settled into a table on the other side of the building. I purposely avoided looking at Jesse . . . all he did was remind me of Blake.

A few minutes later, a shadow fell across our table. I glanced up into Jesse’s face. “Hi,” I squeaked.

“Hey, Delilah. How are you?”

“Fine.” I saw his glance shift quickly to Rachel then back. “Jesse, this is my best friend, Rachel. Rach, this is Jesse Joyner.”

She smiled like a shy schoolgirl, then focused back on her dessert.

He faced me again and ran a hand down his face. “He’s miserable, you know.”

My heart seized painfully. “Who?”

Jesse shifted his weight to one hip and furrowed his brows. “What do you mean ‘who?’ Blake. What happened?”

What should I say? “Nothing happened,” I forced out. “We broke up, that’s all. He’ll get over it.”

He was quiet a moment and I focused on my melting ice cream. I darted a glance back up.

“I think it’s more than that,” he said. “He’s been a pitiful asshole for the last week since his dad got arrested.”

Rachel and I exchanged a surprised glance before I focused back on Jesse, sympathy for Blake rushing through me. “His dad was arrested? What for?”

Jesse shrugged on shoulder. “Same old shit. They got into it over something, but this time it got physical. Blake’s sporting quite a shiner and a couple nasty gashes.”

“What?” I shot to my feet, though I’m not sure where I thought I was going. Blake didn’t want me anymore.

And, still . . . I gave Jesse my full attention. “Will you take me to him?”

“Uh . . .” He glanced at Rachel. “Sure.”

Rachel waved us away. “Go. Make sure he’s all right.”

I thanked her and followed Jesse out into the clear spring night. Silently, he helped me into his truck. He pulled out onto the road and I shivered even though I wasn’t cold, wondering if I was an idiot. “Does he hate me?” I made myself ask.

His jaw ticked. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

He glanced at me then back to the road. “He hates himself. Not you.”

I bowed my head. I’d known that was true in my deepest heart, but it killed me that there was nothing I could do to fix it. Blake had to learn what a treasure he was all on his own.

We were silent the rest of the way as Jesse’s truck sped down the highway then bounced over potholes as we entered a trailer park. I looked around and realized that I’d never been to Blake’s home. Never seen how he lived. A flickering streetlight was the only illumination, but the poverty was clear. Trash lined the street, beat up cars sagged in driveways.

Jesse turned right onto the back street and pulled in front of a tired looking trailer. My eyes were automatically drawn to Blake’s Camaro, its vibrant blue muted in the darkness. I thanked Jesse and hopped out, making my way toward the wooden porch steps and lone light burning outside.

I knocked, waited. Knocked again. I glanced behind me and Jesse was still there.

The door finally swung open and I spun to face him. But the Blake Travers I knew and loved was gone. In his place, a pale, unshowered wretch stood with alcohol fumes radiating off him. A small cut was dried with old blood on his temple, bruises marred the dark eyes I loved that were no longer haunted . . . they looked dead as he stared at me, emotionless.

“Princess,” he said, his voice gravelly. “What are you doing here?” His gaze darted to Jesse’s truck behind me and his jaw tightened.

“Jesse told me about your dad. I came to make sure you were okay.”

A mirthless laugh puffed past his lips, bringing with it another gust of liquor fumes. “I’m fine.”

I stood frozen, staring at him and trying to reconcile this person with the guy I’d given my virginity to. The guy I loved.

I couldn’t.

I took an involuntary step back. He made no move to stop me. I choked back the sob building in my chest and ran back to Jesse, diving into the truck.

It was truly and forever over.

Blake

I
watched my princess run away from me like I was the devil. Hell, maybe I was. I stood there like a statue until Jesse’s truck disappeared down the street, carrying her away from me. I knew it was permanent this time. No way she’d ever see me again now.

I slammed the door and sunk onto the couch, eyeing the bottle of whiskey I’d been sucking on, trying to drink away my pain. But all I’d managed to do was make myself feel like rat shit. I was quickly beginning to realize I couldn’t medicate myself like my father. It simply wasn’t working.

And I was a fool for trying.

I laid my head back and ran a hand down my unshaven face. I couldn’t even remember the last time I ate. Yesterday afternoon after I called in sick to work, maybe?

I made my way lethargically to the kitchen and scrounged up a can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and forced it down with a glass of water. With my stomach churning and my father’s hateful words echoing in my mind, I crawled into bed. But the weirdest thing happened . . . as I stared at the ceiling fan whirring above me, Delilah’s words began to crowd out the muck.

. . . Don’t for one second believe I think you’re trailer trash. You’re too good for that, Blake. I love you, damn it!

I love you . . .

Did she still?

Did it matter?

I had no idea. But something that felt a lot like hope buoyed through me as I drifted off into a heavy sleep.

I woke up with heavy eyes and my tongue thick and fuzzy like a caterpillar. I groaned and rolled out of bed. In the bathroom, I showered, then brushed my teeth. I stared at my reflection as the dream I had the night before slid through my mind in hazy bits and pieces. My mother. Delilah. Their tears. Their begging me to stop . . . stop hurting them, hurting myself.

Dee reaching out to me in love.

That faint glimmer of hope was still there, buried deep under the debris of my heart. But what to do with it? Did I have a chance?

But she’d come to me yesterday, my mind screamed. She’d. Come. To. Me.

I spit out the toothpaste foam, my mind waking and swirling with possibilities. But they all centered around one thing . . . Delilah.

I spun and headed to my closet, finding something clean to wear. As I slid on my T-shirt, that sliver of hope began to bubble up and grow like a balloon. Who the hell was my dad to keep me from a future? Trace had called me “lucky.” Maybe I was. I had two strong hands, I knew a helluva lot about cars, and I knew I could learn more. I could make something of myself. Or die trying.

I ran a comb through my hair, grabbed my wallet, phone and keys. As I stepped out into the March sunshine, I let the warmth seep into my tense shoulders a moment. With a deep breath, I hopped into my car. It was time to be a man and step up.

As the car warmed up, I fiddled with my phone, suddenly nervous.

I’m sorry
, I texted.

It took a minute, but Delilah’s response warmed me more than the sun.
Me too

You have nothing to be sorry for . . . I was an asshole

I stared down at the screen, willing her to text back that she forgave me. Instead, my phone rang. I hit ‘accept’ as quick as I could. “Hello?”

“Hey.” Her sweet, unsure voice cut me to the quick.

I swallowed, not sure what to say now.

“How are you? You didn’t look so good last night.”

“I’m . . . better. Thanks.” I shifted into reverse, but kept my foot on the brake. “Listen, I need to talk to you. Can you meet me somewhere? The beach?”

I heard her soft intake of breath, felt her uncertainty cut across the phone line. “Okay,” she finally said. “When?”

“Now?”

“Oh. All right. Our usual spot?”

I loved that we had a spot. I smiled. “Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“See you soon, Princess.”

We hung up and I sped to the beach, my head full. My father sat like the devil on one shoulder, accusatory and hateful, yelling at me that I was no good and wouldn’t amount to a thing. But Delilah’s sweet voice whispered into my other ear that she believed in me. She loved me. I hung onto that until I got there and parked, my heart as speedy and anxious as a runaway freight train.

Everything in me calmed the moment I saw her pull in, her gorgeous, perfect face silhouetted by the late morning sunshine. Unable to help myself, I jumped from my car and ran to her, meeting her just as she stepped out.

She lifted startled eyes to me, and in them I saw all the love and emotion I’d been craving. Everything she was to me. I cupped her neck with both hands and kissed her for all I was worth.

She hesitated only the briefest moment, then her arms were around me, yanking me closer.

I swallowed her little moan and dove deeper, trying to satisfy myself with her taste and pour every bit of what I felt into her.

It was like a tornado had been unleashed between us. Her fingers clutched at my shoulders, as if she couldn’t get enough of me—like she was afraid I’d slip away. I nipped tiny kisses to the corner of her lips, her cheek, the dip in her throat just below her ear. She pressed her hot mouth to my collarbone, my Adam’s apple. I sucked in a ragged breath and laid my forehead to the top of her head.

“I love you, Delilah,” I whispered, my voice tight and emotional with the tears burning in my throat.

Wide eyes studied me when she lifted her head. “You do?”

I nodded, still cupping her jaw. “More than you know.”

A smile quivered on her lips. “I love you, too.”

“I know.” Running my thumb along her lower lip, I searched for the words. “I’m sorry I ran. I told you I have a lot of shit in my life and I let it get to me. I used it to push you away. And I can’t promise to never do it again, but I’ll try.” I pressed another fierce kiss to her lips. “I’ll try for you.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

“I know that now.”

“Say it again,” she said, whisper soft.

“Say what?” I moved to cradle her hips in my hands. As her gaze turned gooey soft, I knew. “I love you, Princess. As deep and wide as my heart goes, I love you.”

She melted into my arms and we stood there in the salty ocean breeze for a long time, wrapped up together like we were one person.

“So, listen,” I said, my chin tucked in by the crown of her head. “I need to tell you something.”

She tensed in my embrace. “What?”

“I want to be the man you deserve. I want to give you a future. I do. But I don’t think I can go to the Marines.”

Her head tipped up so she could face me. “You changed your mind?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Her gaze flitted to the ocean. “So . . . what do you wanna do then?”

“I was thinking of studying auto mechanics, maybe get a degree and a job doing that. Maybe have my own shop someday.”

A smile bloomed on her face. “That’s perfect! You’re so good with cars. I’m proud of you.”

How could this girl know and love me so well? “Thanks.”