“Thanks for picking it up from Krista’s. Since the accident Mom is even more set against me doing this.” His stuff was at her house? A spike of jealousy rolled my shoulders back. Why was I here if he were hooking up with her? “What happened to Megan and Krista?”
“What do you think, man?” Jones tipped his head at me.
Did they hate me that much? Did she think I was encroaching on her territory? Was I going to have to watch my back? Was a possessive girlfriend or ex-girlfriend coming after me?
“Don’t worry.” Hunter noticed my distress. He tossed the bag over his shoulder. “I need to change. You got her?”
“Yeah,” Jones replied.
“Stay with them.” Hunter’s hand slipped down my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I’ll catch you after the race.”
I nodded. “Good luck.”
He stared at me for a beat as if he wanted to say or do something. He abruptly circled around and rambled off.
I watched him walk away, his broad shoulders and firm body were all I focused on as craziness swirled around, slowly enveloping him.
Friend. Friend. Friend, I chanted to myself.
Nothing was working.
The lights flooded down on the bikers, people chanting and yelling, while music thumped in the background. I soared along with the collective high of the room and rode the swell, as if I were back on morphine.
“He’s there.” Jones leaned over, yelling into my ear. I followed Jones’s finger to the figure in the middle. The number eight stood out on his chest, and the blue, black, and silver bike vibrated below him.
A barely dressed girl walked out onto the track, holding up a sign with the number thirty on it. The engines revved louder with the excitement in the room.
“Means they have thirty seconds before they start. When she turns it sideways, they have about five,” Jones explained, pointing at the girl.
A few beats after she turned it the individual gates in front of the contestants folded down, letting the bikes loose. Dirt, engines, and screams billowed in the air, stoking my feet to dance around. The announcer’s voice sped as fast as the bikes. Hunter quickly gained speed, lurching into the front of the pack.
“Yes! He got the holeshot,” Jones exclaimed, cheering. I gathered it was a good thing. Hunter’s number was in the lead, curving around the first corner.
“What’s a holeshot?”
“The start is the most important part, it can set the entire race. You want to be the first one to get around the corner and ahead of the rest who are all fighting to do the same thing. If you get it, it’s called a holeshot.”
“Got it.” I nodded, watching Hunter’s bike bounce over a dozen tiny mounds, other riders catching up to him.
Doug slapped his hands on the rail. “Dude, that asshole is such a goon rider.”
“Zack?” Jones seemed to know exactly who he was referring to.
“Yeah.” Doug nodded. “Hate him.”
“Wait… Zack?” I repeated. “You mean the douchebag who was at the hunt last night? He’s out there?”
“Yeah, number fifteen.” Jones jerked his head toward the racetrack.
Now Zack’s quips in the maze and his Neanderthal knuckle-dragging made sense to me.
The motorbikes moved through the course, a few nipping at Hunter’s back wheel. Nerves gnawed at my stomach lining while my nails dug into my palms. “Come on, Hunter,” I screamed.
His motorbike went high in the air, and he gripped the handles and twisted the frame of the bike right and left.
“See that?” Jones indicated at Hunter. “It’s called a whip.”
Whatever it was called, it was impressive. “He’s really good at this.” It wasn’t a question.
“Are you kidding? Your boy—” Jones caught himself. “He is one of the best in the state. Before the accident he was on his way to the championships. He was being looked at by the top factories to become one of their riders.”
“Before? Can he get back there again?”
“It’s what tonight is for, to get back in the ring. This is his first race since the accident.”
“First? Tonight?” He gave no hint how important the night was.
“Yup,” Jones confirmed. “He could go professional someday.”
My head could not wrap around this new side of Hunter. At school people treated him like a loser. They had no idea outside those brick walls he was worshipped by men and fawned over by women. Seeing him out there was as if I had finally walked through the dark tunnel into the light and saw the real Hunter. Entered Wonderland where everything was the opposite of what I thought. I was honored he allowed me to see it, be a part of it.
The buzz of all the engines made it hard to talk, but I was solely focused on Hunter anyway. The way he shifted, soared, and curved around the route. A biker hovered close to him, riding his butt as they started to curve around another corner.
“Zack is trying to block pass. On a corner,” Doug shouted out, waving his arm in the air with irritation.
I saw Hunter’s helmeted head turn to look over his shoulder, pushing his bike faster to get away from him. Zack swerved, nipping at Hunter’s back tire, and the wheels collided again. A crunching sound broke through the engine wails. My heart faltered in my chest.
The two motorbikes slid out from under the riders as they rounded the turn and smashed into the wall. Another bike tried to veer out of the way but twisted too sharply. He and his bike crashed to the ground, skidding into the wall, right where Hunter was.
I heard a gasp from the crowd and from myself.
“Number 8, 20, and 14 are down,” the announcer called over the speakers. “This is disappointing for The Haze, just returning. He needs this win to get back on the circuit.”
“Jaymerson!” I realized I was running when I heard Jones call my name. My shoulder bashed against people as I tore through the crowd. “Jaymerson, where are you going?” I ignored him and kept going, trying to get myself as near as I could.
“Dude, girl... you can’t go out there.” Jones grabbed my arm as he caught up with me.
“Is he okay?” Panic strained my vocals. “I can’t see him!”
Doug rushed to the other side of me. I pushed up on my toes to see the track better, scanning the chaos circling the fallen drivers. Paramedics with portable emergency treatment bags ran out.
“There he is.” Doug pointed. In a black, white, and blue uniform, number eight lay on the ground, an EMT squatted next to him as they pulled a bike off him. He was not moving.
Oh god. No. Please, I can’t lose him. Once again I was running for Hunter, not thinking, merely acting.
“Miss? Miss? You can’t go out there,” staff members shouted at me, their hands stretching to grab me, but I slipped through, dodging their reach.
I ran to Hunter and skidded to my knees through the dirt as I got near.
“Excuse me. You shouldn’t be here,” the EMT shouted at me.
“Hunter?” I ignored her, reaching for him. “He’s been in a previous accident and had injuries in his lower spine and legs. You need to look for swelling—”
Hunter’s hand grabbed my wrist, stopping me mid-sentence.
“What are you doing?” he muffled through his helmet. “Taking this woman’s job?”
A relieved laugh popped out. “Are you okay?”
He reached up to slip off his helmet. The EMT stopped him. “We need to check you out first.”
“I’m fine.” He pushed past our hands and tugged off his helmet, sweat lined his face and patted down his hair. Of course, it only made him sexier. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”
“I really should—” she started again.
“No. I’m fine.” He pushed himself up, both of us rising with him. “Seriously.”
The paramedic hesitated but nodded and left us.
“You should have told me you wanted to play doctor.” He peered down at me with a grin, then looked over my shoulder. “It’s okay,
she’s with me.”
I twisted my neck to see a security guard walking up. He nodded and changed direction.
“Sorry. Growing up with my father.” I shrugged, embarrassed.
“No.” A bad-boy grin curled the side of his face. “I like that you’re worried about me. But I’m fine. I’ve taken a lot worse hits in my career.”
“So…are you out of the race now? The announcer said this was your return. You needed to win to continue on.”
“Because of my status they’ll give me LCQ.” He noticed my furrowed brown. “Means last chance qualifier. Gives those of us who had a bad first heat a last chance to qualify for the main event.” He lifted his gaze, looking into the stands, the crowd cheering and chanting. “Now get your ass off the course, Jaymerson Vanessa, because if the guards don’t drag you out of here, I will. You and I are too reckless together to be around a dozen moving motorbikes.”
“And the winner of the Tenth Annual AMA Supercross Finals...” The announcer punched each word with a higher emphasis. “Hunter “The Haze” Harris!” Hunter’s bike sailed over the finish line, shooting into the air. He threw his arms out, holding on to the bike with his thighs. His hands returned to the handlebars the moment the front touched the ground.
Jones whooped next to me. “Fuck, yeah!”
The crowd went insane—screaming, cheering, and jumping up and down. It reminded me of when our football team won state. Now TV cameras, magazine reporters, and fans all tried to get to Hunter. He got off the bike, and a staff member took it from him. He held up his hands in victory, and the fans screamed louder. He then jogged to the sidelines and scanned the area where we were. My intestines squeezed, folding in on themselves. Was he looking for me? He found me, his eyes latching on to mine.
He wiggled his two fingers, motioning me to come.
“Go.” Jones nudged me.
I pushed through hordes of onlookers. The crowd seemed to understand and parted, making room for me to get through. The energy buzzed in me; the adrenaline of the race rushed in my blood. He stood a few feet away, and I rushed into his arms. He picked me up, swinging me around.
“So proud of you,” I whispered into his ear. His only response was to grip me tighter, his head digging in the crook of my neck. I could feel his breath. His body dirty and sweaty. It was heaven.
He set me back on my feet, his hand brushing across my face, his gaze dropped to my mouth. The outside world disappeared, blurring around at the edges. Sound became distant and muffled.
We can’t do this.
I know.
The memory of our words whispered in my ear.
It was like he heard them as well. He stepped back and tore his gaze from mine to the dozens of people trying to get his attention.
“Hunter. How does it feel to be back on top after such a horrible accident?” A beautiful brunette stuffed her microphone into his face. Her camera man came around, knocking into me.
Hunter turned to her with a flirty smile. “I won’t lie. It’s awesome.” He continued to rattle on, answering more of her questions. Her body language was fully turned to him, her eyes sparkling with attraction.
I stepped back and let the crowd absorb me.
We kept pretending we were friends, hinting at more, then backing away when daylight forced us to acknowledge the reality of our situation. Too much stood between us. Emotions we could not deny. History we couldn’t forget.
Hurt speared at my chest, and I tried to shove it away. This was his moment, and it was amazing. It stung to watch him, his eyes scanning the girl interviewing him. She was young and sexy, dressed in tight black jeans and a red tank top, her long hair curled in waves.
It’s for the better. He should be with someone like her. My feet moved back, veering me to an exit. Air. I need air. When I reached the way out, instinct turned me to look at him once more.
His interview was done, and several promo girls were hanging on him for pictures. The blonde next to him grabbed his face and kissed him. The crowd went crazy. He pulled away, gazing into the stands with an enormous grin. Then leaned back in, kissing her. Hard. The crowd cheered even louder.
Emotion strangled my windpipes. I whirled around and broke through the large doors to the other side.
It wasn’t fair to be angry. I recognized that, but my pain didn’t care. I bit back the tears wanting to explode from under my lids. No. I will not cry. The frustration at the fact I didn’t have a right to cry prodded me more. I ran to his truck, falling against it. I leaned over my knees, sucking in gulps of cold air. It stung my lungs, but I liked it. Woke me up.
“Jaymerson?” My name came through the night.
Even though a tear hadn’t fallen, I automatically wiped at my eyes, brushing the emotion off my face.
“Jayme?” Jones called again.
“Yeah?” I straightened, forcing my voice several levels lighter than I felt. “What’s up?”
Jones’s black Converse shoes scraped over the concrete as he walked to me. “I saw you run out here and I thought…?”
“Thought what?” I smiled. It felt false and wrong. My “everything is okay” demeanor was like trying to wiggle back into an outfit I had outgrown.
Jones tilted his head. He wasn’t buying it either. “You want a ride home?”
He had thrown me a raft. The sudden urge to hug him took over, but I kept the impulse in check. “I left my car at Hunter’s.”
“No worries. I’ll take you there so you can get it.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” I nodded. “I actually told my family I’d be home early so we could celebrate my birthday. Cake or something.” More lies.
“It’s your birthday?”
“Yeah.” I blinked and stared at the moon.
“Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”
“My car is this way.” Jones pointed to the far end. “Way out there.”
We finally found Jones’s black Honda Civic covered in logos parked in the back part of a field. The inside was clean, which surprised me. We climbed in, and he turned on the engine. Hard rock music blared from the stereo. Guitars wailed, a man roughly screaming lyrics, with a strong drum base in the background.
“Sorry.” He twisted the knob.
“It’s okay. Driver has full music control.”
He smiled and nodded, but he kept the music low. We stayed wordless most of the drive, though I could feel Jones wanting to say something by the way he looked over at me and stirred in his seat. He turned up the steep curving road to the Harris’s house, and he cleared his throat.
Here it comes.
“Hunter’s a good guy. One of the best.”
My gaze went into my lap, my fingers twisting together.
“But after everything, he’s not thinking clearly.” Jones stumbled around his words. I could tell he was trying to get out his thoughts while not offending me. “Between Colton, the accident, his parents, and...” Jones sucked his bottom lip in, then blew out. “I think you are confusing him.”
“Confusing him?”
“I get you’ve gone through a lot, too, but I know him. He may appear to be fine, but believe me, he’s not. I can see why he would turn to you. But—”
“But he shouldn’t,” I finished for him.
“No.” Jones’s face filled with regret. He turned the car into the Harris’s driveway, the house sat dark and forbidding. Jones idled his car behind my Jeep. “Sorry, but I think you are making it worse. When he sees you, he sees Colton. Maybe being around you is his way of not feeling so guilty or accountable.”
“Like he is taking care of Colton’s girl?” Irritation and guilt set my jaw together.
“Or in a small way, being with Colton again. You guys share those memories. Reliving the past.”
But it was exactly the opposite of Hunter’s and my relationship. We avoided and barely ever dwelled on memories of Colton. Our relationship did not stem from a need to live in Colton’s memories. Still I understood what Jone
s was saying. Here was another person telling us what we were blind to the unhealthy connection between us. After a while there were only so many warnings you could push away before you started to listen.
“Hunter’s life is very complicated. So I’m saying this for you too. He couldn’t be the person you’d want him to be. He can’t…” Jones dwindled off. It seemed like he was holding something back. More secrets. “Even if he wanted to be.”
“Thank you for the ride, Jones.” I pulled the handle, opening the door. “And I appreciate your advice. You care about him. I do too.” I took a breath then climbed out of the car. “I want the best for him too. I’ll back away.”
“Thanks,” Jones responded. “I like you, Jaymerson. You’re different from what I thought, but he’s like my brother. I look out for him first.”
“As you should.” I pushed the door shut. “Night, Jones.”
I didn’t let him respond before I walked around my car and opened the door. The car headlights flickered over me as he reversed, pulling out, and driving down the road. The sound of his music suddenly filled the night with screeching, thumping, and wailing.
Just like my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I pulled my jeep into the driveway, my parents’ car absent, Grandma Penny’s at the curb. I got out, locking my door. Walking up the drive, the sound of a car rumbled behind me. Twisting, I glanced over my shoulder. Hunter’s truck screeched to a stop behind my car.
Thump. Thump. My heart threw itself against my ribs.
He climbed from the truck. His bike was thrown hastily in the back, not even tied down.
“What the fuck, Jaymerson!” He stomped up the path, storming over to me. “What the hell happened to you? You take off without telling me?”
Indignation ran frenzied up my spine and out my mouth. “I can do whatever I want without having to ask your permission.” I shot at him. “We are not together. We’re not even friends.”
“What?” His lids narrowed.
“Go home, Hunter.”
“What is going on?” Fury blazed in his eyes. “Did Jones say something to you?”
Shattered Love (Blinded Love Series Book 1) Page 25
