Wreckless

by Bria Quinlan

  “Okay. Got it. Avoid Jake and all Jake-related activities.”

  “I'm not kidding, Rayla.”

  If I saw him—besides on the field—I was afraid I'd throw up. Or hyperventilate and pass out. Or cry.

  It was amazing that, while I was still hurt and embarrassed about Tanner and Leah, I was absolutely destroyed by what had happened with Jake.

  I didn't want to find out what the step below destroyed was.

  “So, he and Mish—are they…?” I didn't want to know. That was the truth of it, but we played Fairview every third Friday, so I might as well get used to it. “Never mind. I don’t want to know anything about him and that—”

  “Seriously? No. No way. He's been all mopey guy. She keeps trying to be sweet, understanding girl. And he finally told her she wasn't even a consolation prize.”

  Ouch.

  “Maybe next week I’ll be ready to talk about it, but right now I just have to focus on getting over him.”

  “Bridget, the guy is stuck on you. He's totally stuck on you.”

  I hadn't heard from him since Monday. If he was so stuck on me, why wasn't he trying to build a bridge?

  I wanted to have enough forgiveness in me for us to talk. I didn’t know if I had anything more than that, but I needed to at least talk. Not yell. Not fight. Just maybe have one last conversation so I could stop feeling sick all the time.

  So I could start being me without this heavy pit in my stomach constantly.

  Which reminded me. “Rayla, I've gotta go. I have to be somewhere tonight.”

  “Oh. No problem. I'll see you tomorrow. Go Hawks!”

  I laughed at her as she disconnected with a, “Woo-hoo!”

  “Mama, you ready?”

  She picked up her purse, her hands tightening on the handle.

  “I hope so.”

  # # #

  I hadn't been to the cemetery since Christy's funeral. I'd always thought it was because it made me too sad, but that week I’d realized something. Something very important.

  I was angry at her.

  And I was angry at myself for being angry at her.

  Jake had been right. I didn't blame her for what happened to her. No one should. She met a boy. He seemed nice. They went on a date. He was evil and hurt her in a way no one should ever be hurt.

  He more than broke a rule. He broke every type of law, legal and otherwise, I knew of.

  But Jake was right too: Christy had broken a rule, too. She gave up. She gave up when she was part of a unit, and she left the unit behind. Decimated.

  I couldn’t imagine what happened to her or how she lived through it or with it. It's not something I pondered because I knew that path would quickly turn back on me like a snake attacking its handler. But I did know that when she left us, it felt—on some level—personal.

  Tanner had asked me if I had enough forgiveness to build a bridge. I hadn't realized I needed to build one here.

  I laid the flowers we'd brought at the base of her headstone and sat cross-legged on the ground next to it.

  “Hey, it's me, Bridget. I bet you're wondering where I've been.” I glanced across her grave at my mother, who watched me with tears running down her cheeks. “I was away because I missed you so much and because I was a little angry. But it took some time for me to see you weren't leaving me. I get that now. I'm really sorry you left. I'm sorry you felt like you had to go. I love you every day still. You're missed a lot, but I hope…I hope you're healed.”

  My mom reached across the distance and I took her hand. “I love you. Okay? I wanted you to know that. I love you.”

  I nodded to my mom and we stood to go. We got a few steps away and I turned back.

  “I love the boots. I think about you when I wear them and they always make me feel golden.”

  When I turned back, my mom was looking at me with this funny smile on her face.

  “You were always both my golden girls.”

  Chapter Twenty

  My dad loved Friday nights. I mean, loved them like they were his second family we didn't know about. I went with him to all the Friday night games each season. Even when Tanner and I had been dating, I still went with my dad. It had just been our thing since I was little.

  So when we settled into the visitors’ bleachers at Fairview, nothing felt wrong. I just had to work very hard not to strain my neck to see all the way to the bench on the other side of the field.

  The game was a good one. I could tell by all the shouting coming from the man next to me I occasionally pretended not to be related to. Jake played the end of the first half. I couldn't keep from watching him. When their safety let our guy through and he flattened Jake, I cringed, feeling the bone-jar when he hit the ground.

  At half time, we got our hot dogs and headed back to our seat just as Rayla caught up with us.

  “Hey, Bridget. Hi, Mr. Larson.”

  “Dad, this is Rayla.”

  My dad smiled and held out his hand. “So you're in charge of the Dairy Queen run tonight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your mama doesn't mind you driving all the way over to Greenville to drop Bridget off?”

  “No, sir. She gave me fifteen minutes on the curfew and said if I got in late with that, I'd lose an hour next Friday.”

  “Fair enough.”

  We half-watched while their cheerleaders did some complicated routine and my dad asked Rayla questions about her family…and her driving.

  Their principal came out to the fifty-yard line with a mic and made some announcements that Rayla joked through. I was laughing as she told my dad a funny story involving the principal’s car and a goat when she stopped mid-sentence. This was a miracle in itself with Rayla. But then she was knocking me in the side with her elbow, and I began to wonder if she'd lost her mind.

  “Hi.” That voice, magnified by the PA system, went straight through my gut, and turned it inside out.

  The entire Fairview population said hi back and Jake kept going.

  “I have a couple things to say. Things I have to say. I hope everyone can give me a minute to say them.”

  The principal had obviously cleared this, because he'd already walked off the field.

  “First off, everyone should know that Bridget Larson is amazing and she did not sleep with me.”

  Oh. My. Gosh.

  My father sucked in a breath next to me. “Am I going to have to shoot this boy?”

  “No, Daddy. If anyone's shooting him, it's me.”

  The principal had done a one-eighty and was heading back toward Jake.

  “Sorry.” Jake put his hand up and waved at him, until the man stopped and stood on the sidelines, arms crossed. “Second,” Jake continued on the field unaware his life was on the line. He turned, scanning the visitors’ bleachers until he spotted me. “Bridget, I am amazingly sorry that I not only let people think that, but that I encouraged it. The next time I take pictures that involve you in any way, they'll be with nothing but the best intentions.”

  My father stood, ready to storm the field and kill Jake in front of two towns worth of witnesses. I grabbed his hand, holding onto him for me as much as for the life sentence he'd be getting.

  “I took a harmless, innocent picture and let people think it meant something else. That wasn't just unfair, it was wrong. And no one should be judging her for that. Also, Bridget.” He was looking right at me now. “You made me happier just by being you than anything else has in a long, long time. You make me smile and laugh. You challenge me. You don't put up with my crap. You let me push you when you need it without getting ticked off. And I'm hoping that I do all those things for you, too. Because there's nothing I'd rather do than make you happy.

  “I'm hoping you'll give me another chance. If you do, I'm prepared to make it up to you.”

  I could feel all the stares coming my way, hitting me like misdirected footballs. At that point, Jake wouldn’t have even needed the mic, it was so quiet.

  On the field, he
shifted from one foot to the other and cleared his throat.

  “I may have prepared a list of reasons you should give me another chance.”

  He tugged something from somewhere on his uniform. From the bleachers, I could see it was small and square and white. Your typical Dairy Queen napkin.

  “First, I think you're hot even when you're wearing two extra layers of clothes.”

  Beside me, Daddy cleared his throat.

  “What?” I asked. “Now you’re going to get angry at a boy for thinking I’m pretty when I have extra clothes on?”

  Obviously there was no right answer to that.

  And I didn’t want to miss the next point.

  “Second, I will never dare you to get naked again. Dares aren't how people should discuss things that are serious.”

  “Bridget?” My father was growling again.

  I couldn’t really fault him on this one.

  “It’s not what you think. There wasn’t any real naked going on. Just, you know…”

  “No. I don’t.”

  I’m pretty sure he grumbled something about Tanner looking good at this point.

  “Mama mentioned to you that Tanner slept with Leah, right? While he was dating me?”

  His brows disappeared under his cap. I patted his arm, trying to calm him down.

  “Trust me, Daddy. This one makes Tanner look like…” I wish I had words. “He’s a good one. He saved me when things were bad.”

  Jake was watching the stands, waiting until he had my attention again.

  “Third, I’ll let you make up crazy rules that make no sense outside your head to anyone except me because I listen to you when you explain them. Fourth, I will not threaten the life of other guys who want to kiss you because I will understand that they just have good taste…as long as they don't lay a hand on you.”

  Another grunt from beside me. My father seemed to approve of that one.

  “Fifth, I’ll let you drive my truck…but not on roads…or after dark…or if you’ve had a drink…or with other people in it. But pretty much any time other than that.”

  I rolled my eyes. So yeah. Sundays after church.

  “Sixth, I'll come to your house and let your daddy grill me so he can see that I'm not a complete jackass like a certain number eighty-three on your team.”

  My dad gawfed. Yeah, he covered his mouth so no one could see, but I knew that was a smile hiding under there.

  “Seventh—and I know how important this is to you—I will always, always keep you safe.”

  He folded the napkin and stuck it back up the sleeve of his uniform.

  “Bridget Anja Larson, what I'm saying is you're right. I was a complete jackass. And I would like to spend every second I have proving that guy is gone. I want to be the other guy. The guy I convinced you I was—he’s the real one. If you'll give me another chance, I'll convince you that what you see is really me. That I’m not lying or hiding anything from you ever again.”

  The field was silent. I doubted anyone was even breathing.

  Jake stood in the middle of the field, mic in one hand, his helmet loose at his side in the other, waiting. “And in case you’re wondering, I knew you were out of my league when you were dressed like a kindergarten teacher.”

  I was scared to death. I was scared it would all fall apart in front of this entire crowd. I was scared it was another joke or that I wouldn’t be able to live up to all that.

  “Bridget, you think you're scared of everything, but you're the strongest person I know.”

  “Oh.” It slipped out. It just slipped out as my heart flipped over. My dad squeezed my hand and gave me a smile even though I knew the grilling Jake volunteered for would be happening in the very near future.

  “We're not going to Dairy Queen, are we?” Rayla didn't look the least bit disappointed.

  I grinned at her and knew that yes, I was going to Dairy Queen. Because while Jake and his big moment were great, I’d learned to value my girlfriends even more.

  But…I might just have to invite Jake along for ice cream.

  I walked down the bleachers, through the path that opened before me, speeding up as I went. By the time I got to the field I was practically running. I forced myself to slow because I had zero interest in looking like a perfume commercial. Jake put his helmet and the mic down and met me halfway.

  “I mean every word. Every word, Bridget.” He grinned that grin, but I saw the worry, too. He really didn’t think I’d take him back. “And maybe a couple I didn't get to say because your daddy was glaring at me the entire time.”

  “It's been a horrible week.”

  “I've missed you. I missed you like I didn’t think I could ever miss anyone.”

  “I can't hurt like this again. Seriously.”

  “I'm sorry, darlin’. I'm so sorry.”

  I watched him watch me, worried he didn’t understand how serious I was.

  “This is your only second chance. I’m not that girl who lets people steer her along their path anymore.”

  His head tilted to the side, looking at me like I was brand new again.

  Maybe I was. Maybe, even after last weekend, he was really just now getting it.

  I kind of loved the idea of being that mystery to him.

  “So are you going to kiss me, or what?”

  “Hell no. You're daddy's still up there glaring at me.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at my dad standing where I'd left him with his arms crossed in a tight X across his chest.

  He was probably going to ground me for this, but...

  I reached up, my hand going around Jake's neck, and pulled him down to meet me, his mouth fitting perfectly over mine again. The heat that rushed through me every time he was near overtook me, blocking out everything around us until the dull roar of cheering broke in.

  Jake leaned back, brushing a kiss across my cheek.

  “You have a game to go play.”

  “You're sitting on the wrong side.”

  “Sorry, I already have a date to the game.”

  “He's the only other guy in your life from now on.” He grinned. “Also, there's a creek I'd like to show you after the game.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’d rather drive your truck.”

  Thanks for reading Wreckless. I hope you enjoyed it! If you’d like to get updates on more of my books, you can join my New Release mailing list HERE or find me at www.briaquinlan.com and on twitter @briaquinlan. I’ve been really lucky to have people review my books at Goodreads. You can find my author page HERE.

  COMING FALL 2013

  SECRET GIRLFRIEND

  Ridge View High is a place teeming with secrets. Amy Whalen should know since her dream guy asked her to be his… but only if she doesn’t tell anyone. Now, the new guy in town is challenging every one of her assumptions about life and love. What’s a girl to think when all her dreams come true if she’s not sure they’re real?

  SECRET LIFE

  Rachel Wells is a liar – big time. No one outside her family knows about the panic attacks or meds, the weekly therapy drive-bys or the “safe” outfit. If she could hide it all from her string of ex-boyfriends and her best friend Amy, then why should anything change? But, when the one guy as messed up as she is blackmails her into helping him, Rachel’s life goes from closely controlled to out of control. Sometimes choosing between sanity and love is the craziest thing of all.

  About Bria

  Golden Heart finalist Bria Quinlan writes Romantic Comedies for teens that take hard topics and make you laugh through your tears. Her stories remind you that life is an adventure not to be ignored. You can contact her find her at www.briaquinlan.com OR on twitter @briaquinlan.

  She also writes sweet & sassy Contemporary Romances as Caitie Quinn.

  Both personalities are represented by the awesomely amazing Laird Lauren Macleod of the Clan…. Oh, wait. Of Strothman Agency.

  Check out her books and join the conversations at Goodreads.

  Ack
nowledgements

  When your first book published isn’t your first book written, the Acknowledgements page can be a bit overwhelming. More people than I can list have touched my writing life in unimaginable ways.

  First off, to The Laird, my agent Lauren Macleod – Her advice is immeasurable, her guidance is remarkable, and it’s always good to have someone else in your life who cuts her own bangs at the worst possible time.

  How to say thanks to Gwen Hayes, my common-law-sister? You’ve been an inspiration and a rock. Thank goodness for magic elevators. I know we have a lot more adventures and brain-sharing moments to come. And Jeannie Lin, the cashew in my trail mix, who reads everything I write and cuts it into prettier pieces.

  Darcy Woods and Jenn McGowan: In everyone’s life, there are friends who do what needs to be done and makes it bearable. Thank you both for the work you did on Wreckless and being phenomiconical. Sandwiches.

  Elyssa Patrick and MG Buehrlen, who always keep me going with words of support & advice, and confidence building pats on the back. Valerie Cole, who else could do the final proof of a hair-centric story? And Jodi Meadows… did you find the cheese? Amanda Brice, one of my go-to question answerers, thank you for all that knowledge in your head! Ladies, thank you for your help and friendship!

  Caroline Linden, I could write an entire book on just the ways you’ve supported and guided me. Thank you.

  Louisa Edwards, that email you sent me? Yeah. It changed everything. Thank you.

  Oh, my Roomers. Let’s be honest, I’d be nowhere without you. Abby Mumford, Alexia Reed, Emily Ryan-Davis, Kimberly Farris, Kristen Koster, and Marnee Bailey. You ladies have seen the best and the worst and kept on keeping on. Thank you!

  And finally, to my secret Sprinters Indie Group. You know who you are…it’s how you put up with me that’s the real mystery. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me.