Love Tap (17 page)

“I don’t care, I’m not leaving.” I rub at my sore forehead, staring her in the eyes.

So many unspoken things are said between our silent stare. I try to fight it, try to keep hold of the resentment toward her.

“I care, Camden. Go, if anyone catches wind that you were here this will blow up and become twisted in so many ways,” she continues, and the anger I was trying to hang on to... vanishes. I clench my eyes shut, mentally cursing myself.

Opening my eyes I glare at the guy who probably has a concussion. Maybe I shouldn’t stay. If I’m here when the cops show up this could be bad not only for me, but for Tate and her family. I have seen articles get so twisted and far from the truth that it’s just not right. I can’t do that to Tate and her family.

“Fine,” I whisper reluctantly. Getting some space from Tate is probably for the best anyhow.

Stepping over the unconscious asshole, I race toward my house covered in blood and bruises.

Chapter Twelve

17 Years Old

Tate

“I don’t think this is a good idea Camden.” Biting my nails I eye the green T-bird.

“Babe, how are you ever going to learn if you don’t try?” Camden opens the driver side door with a lazy grin spreading across his face. His blond hair is long and falling in his eyes effortlessly. Seriously, how did I get so lucky to land the ruggedly good-looking Camden Steel? Of course I don’t ask him that, his ego is big enough. I’ve had my permit for a while now, but with Mom’s death I just didn’t ever get around to getting my license. Camden has been up my ass about getting it.

“What if I wreck it?” I worry.

“Then you’ve added some character to it,” he laughs.

Knowing I’m not going to get out of this, I slide behind the wheel. The seats are clothed and soft, and the steering wheel is worn from previous drivers. It took Camden years of saving to get a car. He’s worked at a mechanic shop learning how to fix cars, and has saved every paycheck.

Turning the key in the ignition it starts with a clank.

“Now, just pull out and drive around the block some,” Camden suggests, climbing to the passenger seat.

Looking in the rearview mirror, I pull out slowly. The car bouncing when I hit the curb.

“Shit!” I hiss.

“It’s fine, I hit that curb all the time,” he lies, trying to make me feel better.

Putting the car in drive, I slowly head down our street.

“Turn left.” Camden points toward the main street.

“You sure?”

“You got this babe.” He grabs my thigh, giving it a squeeze. Butterflies fill my stomach having his palm on my bare skin.

“You have to move your hand, I can’t concentrate.” He laughs arrogantly, and moves it.

“Did any colleges write you back? I know you said your dad was having you fill some applications out.” Looking at him I grimace, not really wanting to talk about it. It’s a sore subject for everyone involved. “Yeah, I got a couple offers, Dad wants me to take the one in LA.”

“LA?! You’ll be so far away Tate.”

“I know, but it’s supposed to be the best school. Dad thinks if I’m going to have any chance at a normal college experience I should go there,” I explain, my focus completely off the road. My chest literally aches that I may be leaving, but I know it’s for my best interest. What hurts the most is that Camden can’t come with me. He has so much going for him here that if he follows me, he’ll give it all up. A selfish part of me doesn’t care though and just wants him to be there with me the whole way. He’s more than my boyfriend, he’s my best friend.

A horn honks, and I swerve trying to miss it, placing me on an off ramp.

“Baby, turn around!” Camden’s voice is frantic, causing my heart to accelerate.

“I can’t turn around!”

“Pull over!”

“I can’t, there’s nowhere to pull over!” My eyes fill with fearful tears as I look out my side mirrors.

“Ok, ok, turn your turn signal on and get over easily,” Camden instructs, looking all around us.

Flipping the turn signal on, I get over onto the highway, and a big truck blows it’s horn making me scream and let go of the wheel. My heart is beating so hard against my chest I feel like I may pass out.

“Don’t let go of the wheel!” Camden grabs ahold of the wheel.

Quickly, I grab it from him and jerk it, causing us to swerve off the highway and onto the grass.

My chest is heaving in panic, tears streaming down my face.

Camden is gripping the dashboard, his face pale as he stares at the windshield.

“I don’t want to go,” I cry, as a tear slips across my mouth. The panic in my chest not really coming from the almost car wreck, but the wreck happening inside of me right now. The one I’ve been holding in.

Camden looks my way, his face softening.

“Dad is making me, said I need to get away from this town and make something of myself. It’s what Mom would have wanted.” Camden scoots over, and wraps his arms around me.

“You don’t have to go Tate.”

“I do, and he’s right, she would have wanted me to go.” I sob onto his shoulder, and my heart literally breaks right there on the side of the highway.

He pulls back and searches my face. “How do you know that is what she would want, she’s gone.”

I shake my head, and sniffle. “Mom set aside a savings for my education Dad said.” I shrug, and he wipes a tear slipping down my cheek. “Who knows maybe I’ll like it ya know?” I’m trying to convince myself, because I know I’ll hate it.

“I’m going with you,” he whispers, and my eyes widen.

“No, you can’t. You have your first fight coming up, and sponsors that you were told were sure to sign you. You can’t leave.” My voice rises, my hands grasping his harder than I expected.

“Ok, ok, calm down,” he grabs my face, trying to calm me. I take a deep breath, locking my emotions up tight. This is going to hurt so bad.

His brows furrow, as he pulls me close. I close my eyes, and inhale him in. Our time together is literally ticking away.

Chapter Thirteen

Tate

Sitting in the waiting room, Journey eyes me from across the room.

“What?” I can’t help the venom dripping from my voice. I can’t believe she brought that punk to dinner. If she would have just listened to me the first time, and stayed away from Scotty, this would have never happened.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles under her breath. She looks down, her blonde hair shielding her face.

Sitting forward, I rest my elbows on my knees. My anger dissolving instantly, I hate how she makes me feel like a jerk so easily.

“Don’t be sorry, just… tell me you’re done with that prick,” I sigh.

Her head jerks up. “Oh, I am so done,” she chokes with emotion. Her eyes filling with tears.

Nodding I rub at my left eye, the one Scotty managed to hit, it hurts.

“I’ve been hearing stories that you’re out of control, Journey. How many guys have you been with?”

She crosses her arms, giving me a sideways glance. I feel like her mother, but if Dad isn’t going to dive into her personal life to sort out the crap, then that leaves me.

“How long has it been going on for?” I continue.

She shrugs, looking down at the floor. “Since before you left.”

I hang my head in my hands. “I never should have left.”

Journey scoffs, her feet coming into view as I look at the floor. She sits next to me, shoves my shoulder.

“Stop. You and I both know you couldn’t have stayed even if you wanted to. Dad had it in his head that if you went to college that it would somehow make up for his lack of parenting while he was away at fights.”

I sit up and eye her. I could have done more, but I didn’t.

“Yeah, but when I left I didn’t look back, Journey. I should have tried to stay in your life more.”

“You tried. You called, texted, you even sent money on occasion. It—it’s not you. It’s me, I just—” Her eyes gloss with unshed tears, and I wish I could take all of her hurt and confusion away this second.

“You had nobody, and it’s like you’re trying to make up for that by seeking out attention from anyone that will show it to you.” I fill in the missing pieces, telling her exactly what is going on. No sugar coating it.

She picks at her dress mindlessly and I know I nailed the problem.

“Yeah, maybe,” she mutters.

“Have you thought about therapy?” It sucks, but it can help. I went on occasion at the college, it helped some, but only briefly.

“Ha! That costs money. Believe me I’ve looked. Drugs on the street are cheaper.”

And… I’m pretty sure Mom just rolled over in her grave.

“You know Dad would help you get into therapy, he himself went for a while.” I remember Dad going for an hour a day the week Mom died. I swear it made him angrier though.

She sits up, her eyebrows pinching forward so hard her face scrunches.

“Tate, do you know how much debt Dad is in? All the doctor bills from Mom, and treatment facilities, and that funeral… he’s about to lose the house!”

My stomach knots. “How do you know that?”

“I was cleaning up while he was in the hospital and found all the past due bills stashed in a drawer.”

“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. “We can’t lose the house, it’s the only thing left we have to remind us of Mom.” When I was little Mom told me the story of how she got the house. Mom spotted it and knew it was the one, but it wasn’t even on the market. Dad found another house across town and right before Mom and Dad made an offer on the house across town, the one she wanted went for sale but was out of their budget. Mom sold her car, which she worked for everyday as a teenager, just to get the house. She said she knew it was the one to raise a family in. There were so many flaws, but her and Dad fixed them all over the years to make it our home.

“Davis?” A doctor in a white coat calls from the double doors. Journey and I both jump up and head toward her. Her black hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she’s got wrinkles under eyes from lack of sleep.

“Davis, that’s us,” I inform, reading her name tag. Dr. Angela.

“Right, your father has suffered a mild heart attack, he seems to be fine but we want to keep him and run some tests. Also I will be prescribing him some nitro pills just in case this should happen again—”
“Again, this will happen again?” Journey panics.

“Well, unfortunately after they’ve had one, they’re more susceptible to having another. It’s just for precaution at this point, after we run more tests we should know what we’re dealing with a little bit more,” Dr. Angela informs us kindly. My head hangs, I can’t lose another parent.

“Can we see him?” I ask, wanting to see him alive, my only comfort at this point.

“Yes, go ahead.” She smiles, and makes her way to the nurse station.

“Tate?” Turning, I find Camden. My body temperature instantly rises seeing him here. I can’t help but rake him from head to toe. His hair is wet from a fresh shower. He’s wearing a fitted blue shirt and dark jeans with a brown belt. You can’t even tell he’s been in a fight, unless you look at his knuckles. They’re bruised with fresh cuts. “I saw them wheel your dad into the back of the ambulance. Is he okay?” His forehead wrinkles in worry and I realize he didn’t even know why I was fighting Scotty in the first place.

“Go ahead, I’ll be right in,” I instruct Journey.

Turning, I step closer to Camden so everyone in the waiting room doesn’t hear our business.

“Yeah, he had a heart attack. Scotty punched him in the chest, and I just… lost it on him.” I close my eyes, replaying everything in a blink of an eye.

“Good thing I didn’t know that, I’m not sure Scotty would be breathing right now,” Camden informs casually as he slips his hands into his jean pockets.

My chest constricts as I fall in love with Camden all over again. His need to protect my family the most romantic thing ever.

“Well, the doctor just said he’d be fine.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

Camden reaches for my face, his fingers trailing under my left eye. His touch leaves behind a blazing trail of desire, and I hold my breath.

“You’re going to have a black eye, you should put some ice on that.” His jaw ticks, as his eyes harden. He drops his hand and I finally breathe. The way just one touch from him affects me bewilders me. My body has never responded to anything or anyone like it does with Camden.

“My first black eye, I guess I can say I’m well on my way to the pros, huh?” I try to make light of the situation, but my eye really does freaking hurt now that he points it out. Placing his hands in his pockets, he looks the other way. He’s not seeing the humor in it.

“Hey, Dad wants to see you,” Journey grabs my attention from the double doors.

Looking back at Camden I ask, “Do you want to see him?”

He glances down at his feet. “No, you have your time with him I just… I just wanted to check on you.” He doesn’t make eye contact when he says it, but his words hit me in all the right places. I feel fuzzy, and can’t help but smile.