Everything is in chaos. I don’t know who gets into which car. The sirens wail in the distance, growing closer with each second. Cars are taking off in all directions as the entire population at the Tracks registers what’s going down. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here, and I don’t know what will happen when we get arrested. All I know is that Aiden opens the nearest door of Mason’s SUV and practically throws me in. He’s about to close the door on me when I realize that his car is parked some distance out.
“What about you?” I ask frantically.
He looks from me to his car in the distance. “I’ll be fine.” He looks at Mason, who’s starting the engine. “Get them out, take the back roads and take lots of turns. I’ll meet you at Amelia’s.”
With that he slams my door closed, leaving no room for objection, and Mason takes off without a second thought.
He speeds through the frantic crowd, dodging cars and people and cop cars alike.
A hand grips mine, and only then do I realize that Charlotte is sitting beside me in the back, but the front seat beside Mason is empty. Noah and Chase had better have jumped in Julian’s truck and managed to get out of here. My pulse is racing; my adrenaline pumping. There are cops everywhere, cars driving around in every direction trying to escape, and those left behind getting arrested.
“Mason!” I yell as a cop car skids to a horizontal stop directly in the path where he’s driving.
He swears and swerves, my body jerking to the left onto Charlotte, the SUV narrowly missing the cop car as Mason drives through the fields at top speed. His Range Rover is built for this terrain; we’re luckier than most, and Charlotte and I turn around to look out the back window, watching the scene unfold as we speed away.
“Do you see Julian’s truck or Aiden’s car anywhere?” I ask.
“I can’t see anything!” Charlotte admits, trying hard to see through the chaos.
Mason suddenly turns, sending Charlotte and I toppling over with a swear.
“Sorry,” Mason throws over his shoulder at us, taking another sharp turn, and I feel the familiar smoothness of asphalt instead of bumpy grass beneath the tires.
Looking back out the window, there are only trees. The only evidence of what just occurred are the loud sounds and flashing lights in the distance. Mason turns again and speeds down the road, quickly putting as much space as he can between us and the shit show back at the Tracks. We’re on a dark road, illuminated only by Mason’s headlights. No one else is on this road. No one follows us.
We made it.
18
The hour-long drive back to my house is a long and stressful one. I try calling Aiden’s phone every five minutes, and worry every time it flips right to voice mail. About twenty minutes after we make it away from the Tracks, Annalisa answers her phone. She confirms that Noah and Chase are with them and that they got out okay. She also says that Aiden isn’t answering her calls either.
Now, it’s about two thirty in the morning, and we’re all huddled on my porch, worried out of our minds about Aiden. Clearly none of us are comfortable enough to call it a night and go home until we know if he got arrested or not.
I thought my mom would be back from work around three or four, but the car in the garage tells me she’s already home. At least she’s asleep, so I don’t have to explain why we’re having a slumber party out on the porch in the cold. Let’s be real, she probably wouldn’t care anyway. She hasn’t in a long time. She sent me a don’t-stay-out-too-late text around midnight, and I haven’t heard from her since.
A car turns onto my street, the bright headlights illuminating the dark houses.
“Is that . . . ?”
The blue jeep passes my house and continues down the street, answering Charlotte’s question.
“Should we call him again?” Noah asks. “Maybe he’ll answer the twentieth call in the last hour?”
“He’s driving, that’s probably why he isn’t answering his phone,” Mason reasons, but we can all tell it’s not with much conviction.
“Maybe I should take a drive to his house, just in case he decided to go home instead,” Julian suggests.
“If he shows up anywhere, it’ll be here. He said he would meet us here, he’ll be here,” I say with as much confidence as I can.
“It’s been an hour and a half since the cops showed up, maybe we should think about bail money—” Mason starts.
“He didn’t get caught!” I insist.
“Maybe we should turn on the news and check if there were any high-speed police chases,” Chase says, only half-joking.
“He couldn’t have gotten arrested, guys. We have an unspoken blood pact that one of us can’t get arrested unless another one of us is there beside him. That’s brotherhood right there,” Noah explains in his backward logic.
“That’s only true when you do something stupid, Noah. The saying is that you get arrested with your best friend for doing something stupid, not illegal street racing and gambling,” Chase corrects.
“Being a street racer who couldn’t outrace cops would be stupid!” Noah explains. “Therefore, he can’t get arrested because one of us isn’t sitting in that jail cell with him.”
We roll our eyes, secretly glad about Noah’s natural ability to cut some tension.
“Noah, no one knows about this stupid blood pa—” Julian is cut off when we hear the beautiful sound of Aiden’s Challenger coming down the street.
A chorus of relieved sighs are heard as the black Challenger stops in front of my house, and Aiden emerges from it. Learning my lesson from the last time I made a complete fool of myself in front of everyone, I resist the urge to throw myself into Aiden’s arms. He walks up to the porch and we all break into relieved smiles.
“See! I told you all! Tell them about the blood pact, Aiden! Tell ’em!” Noah exclaims.
Aiden looks at him, confused. “What?”
“He knows,” Noah says to Charlotte, who’s standing on his left.
Aiden comes up to me and wraps his arms around me, and I instinctively pull him closer and rest my head on his chest, relieved that he’s okay.
“You okay?” he whispers to me while everyone laughs at the ridiculous idea that he was arrested.
“Yeah. You?”
He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Better now.”
I silently thank God that my head is buried in his chest, or else he’d see the bright blush and lunatic smile I’m sporting.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone you asshole?” Annalisa scolds. “You had us worried sick!”
Aiden releases his hold on me but keeps one arm wrapped around my shoulders, and I snuggle into him, relishing his closeness and warmth.
I don’t know what we are. It’s not like we went out on a date, or have even kissed. But being with Aiden feels natural—it’s comforting and warm and exciting, and makes me feel safe.
“I dropped it somewhere,” he admits.
“Dude, that sucks,” Noah says. “Some hobo is gonna hear all my voice mails and instantly fall in love with me. I’m gonna have to change my number so that I don’t get hobo stalked.”
“You’re not going to get hobo stalked, Noah.” Annalisa rolls her eyes.
“My phone is password protected anyway,” Aiden states.
Mine is now, too. After I dropped it at the Halloween party and Aiden returned it after going through it all, I learned my lesson. Except, that is how I got Aiden’s number, so not having a password wasn’t all bad.
“Why did it take you an hour and a half to get here? It didn’t take us that long,” I ask, wondering if he did actually get caught up in a high-speed police chase.
“They blocked the main roads in and out of the Tracks. I had to go the long way around,” he explains.
“The real question we should be asking is ‘What the fuck?’” Noah exclaims.
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“Noah’s right,” Julian says. “The cops have never shown up in all of the Tracks’ history.”
“And with that many, it’s obvious they were called. They didn’t just stumble on it,” Mason adds.
“Funny how they showed up after Ryan’s ass was whipped and he and his friends had cleared off the Tracks. . .” Annalisa trails off, leaving us to pick up her thoughts.
“You don’t think—”
“I do,” Annalisa answers Charlotte.
“But if he called the cops, he can never go back to the Tracks again. They can never use that spot because now the cops know about it. Don’t he and his friends make their money from there?” I muse.
“I think in the moment, he was more pissed at Aiden and at losing, and like everything else he does, he let his hot-headedness and anger fuel him,” Julian reasons.
“Calling the cops is definitely the type of bitch move Ryan would pull,” Mason agrees.
I shift my head on Aiden’s chest to look up at him. “Would he do that?”
Aiden’s mouth is set in a hard line as he thinks over the possibilities. “He probably did.”
A chorus of swears passes around the circle we’re standing in.
“What are we gonna do about it? We have to get that asshole back!” Annalisa presses for revenge, probably glad that she has somewhere to direct her anger after the confrontation with Luke earlier.
Everyone else approves and starts thinking of ways to get Ryan back, but I tense, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Aiden since my side is pressed against him. This is just like my vandalized car all over again; everyone thinking of ways to get Ryan back and me not wanting them to do anything about it.
Aiden uses the hand that’s around my shoulder to rub my arm. “What’s wrong?” he asks gently.
“We shouldn’t retaliate.”
“What? Why the hell not?” Annalisa asks.
“They almost got us all arrested, Amelia. Arrested!” Noah emphasizes.
“Not to mention that was how we made our money! Aiden has kids to take care of! What’s he going to do now? He can’t even make a quarter of that much by working part time for minimum wage!” Mason counters, growing more enraged with the situation as he lists the damage.
“Getting him back won’t make me money,” Aiden reasons calmly.
“What? Aiden, this affects you more than any of us. You should be the most pissed. You can’t tell me you don’t want to get him back,” Julian says.
Aiden looks down at me, briefly making eye contact and seeing the desperation in my eyes, then he looks at everyone. “We don’t know it was him for sure.”
My heart swells, knowing that Aiden’s containing his anger for me. His unfaltering ability to perceive the truth in situations is allowing him to see that I’m uncomfortable. His calculating and intuitive nature is telling him that I don’t want revenge, and he’s putting my concerns before any of his own needs for revenge.
“Whether he did it or not, we can’t do anything to him,” I explain, trying to convince them to see my point of view. “I said it before, but if we get him back, he’ll get us back, and it’ll keep going until we get hurt. It’s already serious. He broke the law to vandalize my car, and now he called the law and tried to get us arrested. Seriously, the next step is stabbing us or something. Can we please be the bigger people and let it go?”
Annalisa snaps, “I’ll file his shinbone into a shiv with his teeth and cut off his man bun if he tries anything.”
“I agree with Amelia, this is getting out of hand,” Charlotte says quietly.
“What is wrong with you guys? We need to hit back harder!” Annalisa states, growing more visibly angry and frustrated.
She clearly hasn’t calmed down from her confrontation with her brother. Sure, she’s aggressive, and I know that she’s not all talk—she actually would fight Ryan—but this anger is probably rooted deeper than just Aiden’s asshole ex-stepbrother.
Julian seems to pick up on it as well. “It’s late. We’re all tired. Why don’t we get some sleep and talk about it later.”
A chorus of approval is heard through the group. Tonight has been long and stressful as it is without having a debate. I hope I can convince them that revenge isn’t a good idea. Not only for my sake, but for all of theirs.
19
After saying good-bye, my friends head to their cars to go home. Aiden hangs back, not making a move to go to his car. Mason stalls for a moment, too, but when he notices that Aiden isn’t making any move to leave, he slowly turns and heads to his SUV.
“I’m just gonna—um. I’ll meet you upstairs. Good night,” Charlotte says, quietly slipping inside.
I sit on the porch steps, and Aiden follows my lead. With everyone gone and Charlotte inside, I’m suddenly hit by the serenity and calmness of the cold winter night, so different from the night’s actual events.
“You really don’t want to get them back?”
“Don’t you think this has gone far enough? I know that you’ll never get along with Ryan, and I’d never ask you to,” I say. “I just don’t think that doing something to get back at him will get us anywhere. We all got out safely, and you still got four grand out of him. I think we came out on top in this situation.”
He nods, looking out at the quiet suburban street at nothing in particular. I know that he’s pissed at Ryan. Aiden already has his own reasons to hate Ryan, but now he directly attacked Aiden and his friends.
“We’ll give everyone time to calm down,” he says after several quiet minutes. “They’ll change their minds.”
I nod again, relieved that Aiden is willing to put his anger aside. Putting this behind us isn’t just about me and Tony, it’s about everyone. Ryan will end up escalating this situation until it gets even worse, and it’ll turn into a full-blown war instead of a stupid high school rivalry.
“What happened with Jonesy and all the others from the Tracks?” I ask randomly.
“I didn’t see who got arrested, but if Jonesy or the other guys figure out Ryan called the cops, he’ll have bigger things to worry about than just us anyway.”
I nod. Despite Jonesy’s short height, he has some massive muscle—definitely not someone I’d want to piss off.
“What are you going to do about money now?” I ask quietly.
He looks back out at the street thoughtfully. “I’ll figure it out.”
“That was how Jonesy made his money, no? He’ll find another location for the track and it’ll be like nothing happened,” I say, trying to stay optimistic. “At least you got four thousand dollars to hold you over until then.”
He looks back at me, his expression thoughtful and serious. “No, I don’t.”
“Did you lose the money with your phone? Oh shit, Aiden. Please don’t tell me you lost the four grand you won from Ryan and the four grand you used to bet him. Maybe the cops left and we can go—”
“Amelia,” he cuts me off from my escalating rant. “I didn’t lose the money. It’s right here.” He pulls out two envelopes—one with his own four grand and one with Ryan’s.
“Then what did you mean that you don’t have his money?”
He puts his original envelope back in his pocket and hands the other one to me.
“It’s your money,” he tells me, urging me to take the envelope.
I reach out tentatively and take the envelope, holding it up, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“The only reason I raced Ryan was to get money out of him for vandalizing your car. It’s yours,” he says, his gaze intense and voice honest.
Aiden’s giving me four thousand dollars? That he won? That he risked his own money for?
“I can’t take this,” I promptly stick my hand out, waiting for him to take the envelope from me.
He looks at the envelope then back at me. �
�Yes, you can.”
“No, I really can’t.” I throw the envelope into his lap since he makes no move to take it. “Think of it as paying you back for the new tires and paint job. And the stress of getting a tow truck and mechanic so late and dealing with everything so quickly.”
He picks up the envelope and stubbornly throws it back into my lap. “I told you already, they owed me favors. It didn’t cost me anything.”
My chest aches. My heart squeezes with guilt and regret. Aiden’s so honest and genuine with me, and I’ve done nothing to deserve it.
I throw the envelope back in his lap. “It cost you a favor. Aiden, I don’t deserve this; it’s yours. You raced for it, you risked your own money for it, and Ryan’s more your pain in the ass than mine. Just keep it.”
He picks up the envelope and throws it back at me. “I told you—”
“I don’t want it.” I throw it back quickly.
“But I want you to—” He throws it back.
“I’m not taking it.” I throw it back.
Getting tired of the back and forth, Aiden gently but firmly grabs my right wrist and brings it close to him, puts the envelope in my hand, and closes my fingers around it.
“It’s yours,” he says, voice low, leaving no room for arguing.
We’re so close to each other, I can see the dark lashes framing his gray eyes and I can smell how good he smells.
Why can’t I just be a regular girl and not one who has to hide who she really is, run for her life, and lie to the people she cares about most? Why can’t I just enjoy being with Aiden and not have my conscience make my heart jump up into my throat every time I have to lie to him? Why does it break a piece of my heart every time Aiden calls me Amelia instead of Thea? I wish I could hear him say my real name, just to relish the way it would sound coming from his perfect lips.
God. Get a grip, Amelia. You’re sounding like some lov—
No.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Stay away from that word.
I suddenly realize the intimate position we’re in—how close we are. During the argument, my right leg ended up sprawled over his left. His warm hand is firmly around my wrist, holding my arm close to his chest. My face is only a few inches away from his.
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