#Swag (GearShark #3) (23 page)

“I know.” She shouldn’t
have
to handle it.

“John said the reaction to my announcement wasn’t good in my division. It surprised me.”

“Who the fuck is John?” I burst out.

Her head lifted off my shoulder. She was so close I could make out all the shades of green in her eyes. “The guy who interviewed me.”

Oh. Right. “He’s an asshole,” I declared.

“Have you ever met him?” she wondered.

Why did I need to meet him? “You agree with me.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, well, I talked to him.”

“Good enough for me.” I shrugged and then pushed her back into my shoulder. “So the asshole said that and you were surprised.”

Look at me keeping up with the conversation. I was proud of myself.

“They don’t even like me. I would think they’d be glad to see me go.”

“They’re butt hurt,” I told her.

“What?” She started to look up, but I wouldn’t let her. I liked her weight against me.

“Maybe they don’t like you, but they don’t like the fact you’re leaving either. It’s an insult to them you would leave the top after you made it in. It’s like saying they aren’t good enough for you.”

“John did make out like I was giving up something amazing to go to the NRR.”

“You kinda are.”

“No,” she intoned, absolution in her voice. “And I thought you hated the pros.”

“I do. But it’s a legitimate division. Only one of its kind. A lot of people still view it as the only division with real drivers.”

“That’s a bunch of shit.”

I smiled over her head.

“I thought I’d get some more acceptance and respect with the crossover.”

“But you haven’t.”

“Not even you think I should drive. Right after you implied my father bought my way in, you said so in
GearShark
.”

Well, fuck.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”

She retorted, “Why, because you want to get laid tonight?”

I stiffened beneath her. “No. Because it was an asshole thing to say.”

“Yeah, it was.”

I could have said sorry, but what was the point? The words were out there. Saying I’m sorry wouldn’t make up for it. She might not admit it, but I could tell the words hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her. “You’re a good driver.”

She laughed, thought I was teasing.

“Seriously.” I squeezed her. “I’ve seen some of your races. And tonight with the Lotus.”

Her dark head lifted. I met her eyes so she could see the truth.

“You’ve watched some of my races?”

It was something I didn’t plan on telling her. But I kinda owed her after putting her down in a national magazine. “I watched some tapes, uh, last week.”

Her smile was brilliant. Made me wonder why I ever thought twice about admitting it. “You did? Thank you.”

“I’ll still smoke you, though,” I added.

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll see.”

“Does your dad know how it’s been for you in the pros? The reason you want to cross over is because you hate it?”

She ceased breathing for a long moment, like she was stunned I laid it out like that. Stunned I picked up on the fact she didn’t like the pros. Josie loved driving; that much was crystal clear.

But the pro division?

It was squashing her. I had a feeling if I’d met her years ago, before she’d signed, I would have met a completely different woman.

Josie was feisty and stubborn by nature. She was also jaded; that came from life.

I was surprised when she didn’t deny it. I thought she’d argue and tell me I was wrong.

She didn’t.

“Not completely.”

“Does anyone know? Hopper?” I pressed.

“No.”

I could feel her holding something back. Like it was right there and she wanted to dump it all out, but she didn’t.

Even though Josie hadn’t said everything, she’d still told me a lot. I didn’t think I quite realized how weighed down she was. How tired. I wanted to scoop her up and protect her. But she wasn’t that kind.

In a way, it was good because shielding people was also tiresome. “I know what it’s like to always be the strong one, too, to bear responsibility and never say too much.” She might not want my protection, but some understanding might go a long way.

“Tell me about it.” Her voice was soft, and she pushed her face closer into my neck. The soft strands of her hair caressed my skin.

I glanced down, trying not to be so affected by her. By our exchange of words.

Talking felt more intimate somehow, more so than sex. Because baring your body in front of someone was a lot less scary that baring your innermost thoughts.

Her legs were covered in goose bumps. So were her arms.

“Josie, are you cold?” My voice was harsh.

“It’s a little chilly just sitting,” she said. “No big deal.”

I made a noise and pushed her away from my body. She scrambled up. I pushed to my feet, crowding her in the narrow space between the rows. Swiftly, I yanked off the cotton jacket I was wearing.

Already, she was shaking her head.

“Sit down,” I ordered, patting my lap again. Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you sass me, woman.”

She sat down, resuming the same position she’d been in just seconds ago. I draped the jacket over her side and part of her legs.

Her silent sigh went unheard, but it brushed over my neck when her face pushed close.

“I lied earlier,” I said. “When I said no one asked about us. Someone did.”

“Who?”

“My father.”

“I’ve always gotten the impression you don’t have much of a relationship with him.”

“I don’t.” My voice was clipped, and it was work to unhinge my suddenly tense jaw to explain further. “He never liked my interest in cars or that I street raced. It didn’t fit in his business world.”

“I’m sure that went over well,” she said knowingly.

I smiled to myself. “Pretty much. I did what I wanted anyway. We settled into a tolerable relationship, and he bailed me out of trouble a few times.”

“Like criminal trouble?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve done some shit I probably should have done jail time for.”

“What kind of shit?” she asked, looking up.

“Illegal betting, fighting…”

“I don’t think you can go to jail for fighting.” She pointed out.

“When you almost kill some people, you can.”

I watched her eyes widen. I measured her reaction to my words. I’d never told anyone that before, that I’d beat someone almost to death. It was a sworn secret between my father and me and only those involved. Everyone was paid to shut the hell up about it. I wasn’t even sure how much Arrow knew.

“Did they deserve it?” she asked softly, still staring unflinchingly in my eyes.

“Oh yeah.”

She nodded once. “Okay.” Then she tucked her head back into my neck.

I wasn’t shocked very often, but I was just then. My body went slack, all my energy going to process her reaction. Even the arm holding her fell away.

Such easy acceptance.

No fear.

Not even when I outright admitted to being violent. Granted, it was provoked.

“Jace,” she whispered.

Both my arms tucked around her. My head turned enough so I could rest my chin on her head as I gazed out over the empty track. Down below, my car was a bright spot, the white paint standing out in the night like a neon sign.

“A couple years ago, my dad did some things, said some shit that ruined our tolerable relationship.”

“Did it have to do with Arrow?”

I paused. “You know he’s gay?”

“Is it a secret?”

“Not really,” I murmured. But it wasn’t something we announced.

“Hopper asked about him, you know,” she mused, interest in her tone.

My attention zeroed in. “What the hell for?”

“Maybe he’s interested.”

Uh, what?
“Hopper is gay?”

“Yeah,” she answered.

“He’s too old,” I announced. He could forget it right now, and he could also never look at my brother again.

Josie burst out laughing. “Old!”

I made a sound.

“He’s twenty-six.”

“Arrow is twenty,” I replied, tight.

“Age is just a number…” she mused.

“No,” I barked.

She just giggled. “Testy.”

“My brother’s been through a lot of shit.” My voice was hard. “My father only made it worse. He’s damaged now. I won’t stand around and watch him get hurt again.”

“Ahhh,” she said, knowingly.

Her tone annoyed me. “What?”

“The people you almost killed… Did that have to do with your brother?”

“Yeah,” I said, not wanting to say anymore. It’s not really something I liked to think about. In fact, some nights it haunted me in my dreams.

I might have almost killed some guys, but I was no killer. That experience would be something I would never forget.

“Sometimes I wonder if my father had let me go to jail, if I would feel—” My lips slammed shut. I hadn’t realized I was speaking out loud.

“Less guilty?” she asked, soft.

I nodded.

“Look, I don’t know what happened. I could probably guess, but I won’t.”

“You wouldn’t be right. Someone as light as you could never imagine something so fucked up.”

She paused, sat up, and looked me in the eye. It wasn’t hard because when she sat straight, our eyes were level.

“I’m not so light.”

Oh, Josie. What the fuck have they done to you?
I brushed my hand over her hair. “To me you are.”

“We walk around a lot of stuff, don’t we?” she asked, her mouth turned up slightly.

“Sometimes you don’t have to come right out and say everything to understand,” I murmured.

“Your father asked about us?” she asked.

I nodded. “He summoned me to his towering offices, and there was our magazine on his desk,” I explained. “I didn’t even know it was out.”

“I don’t know how they got it out so quickly,” she mused. “I looked up in Target one day, and there it was.”

“Did you buy it?” I teased.

She blushed.

It made something inside me feel warm.

“He thought we were dating,” I said of my father.

“I think everyone assumes that.”

I shrugged. It didn’t bother me. In fact, I was glad. Having someone like Josie at my side could never be considered anything but a blessing.

“I think it was the first time he was happy with one of my decisions,” I mused.

She laughed. “Then you told him we weren’t together.”

“I told him I was working on it.”

She pulled back, surprise written on her features.

I winked.

“He told me he was proud of me,” I admitted quietly. The words felt like a heavy weight. “I don’t remember him ever saying that to me before.”

Her hand came to rest on my jaw, lightly rubbing over my stubble.

“It made me suspicious, you know?”

She nodded. “Like he wants something.”

I nodded. That was exactly it. “He says he wants to make amends and he’s sorry for being a shitty father. He claims he checked out when my mom died…”

“Your mom died?”

“When I was six.”

She snuggled back into my chest. This time her arm came up to loop around my neck. It was sort of odd to be comforted. No one had ever comforted me before.

It was kinda nice.

So I picked up her hand, kissed the palm, then laid it back around my neck.

“Arrow’s mom raised me really. She’s a good woman; she was good to me. But it was never the same.”

“Can you forgive him?” she asked, cutting right to the heart of things.

I’d asked myself that a hundred times since I saw him.

“For being a shit father to me? Yeah, I guess. But what he did to Arrow… that I can never forgive.”

Her arm tightened around me. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me about it.”

“Someday, I will.” I promised. But not right now. Right now I felt like I’d laid out so much I had to keep something in reserve.

Just like maybe someday she’d tell me what kind of hazing she’d gone through.

“What does Arrow say?” she asked.

“I, uh, haven’t talked to him about it. I’ve been avoiding it.”

“You protect him,” she said simply.

“He fights against it. He wants to stand on his own.”

“He’s strong.”

I agreed. “Way stronger than he looks.”