Keanna

 

I don’t know much about Clay, so it’s a little weird walking with him to the nearby pharmacy. He’s tall, taller than Jett, and a little wider too. Tattoos line both of his arms, some of them colorful and some are just black shadows and shapes. I find myself trying to sneak a glimpse of them without being too obvious.

He used to have hair, which he kept floppy and in need of a haircut. That’s how he looked when I first saw him on the Team Loco website. But a few months ago, he shaved it all off and now he looks like a scary bouncer at a night club.

“You gotta make me a promise, okay?” Clay asks me as we walk.

“Um…okay?” We barely know each other so it feels weird that he wants promises from me.

He gives me a hesitant smile. “Now that Jett’s out of the season for a few weeks, Marcus is going to put me in the races in his spot. There’s no denying that Jett is the faster guy here, that’s why I got second place and he got first in the summer series. I just—” He runs his hand across his head, almost as if he expected to be able to run his fingers through his hair. He sighs, letting the air out slowly through his lips.

“I’m not trying to upstage him or anything, okay?”

“No one thinks you are,” I say. This is a new side of Clay, the timid and slightly worried side. He’s always seemed to uptight and serious when I’ve been around him.

He nods quickly but he still looks nervous. “I don’t want Jett to be pissed at me for taking over, you know? If you could just, I don’t know, like say nice things about me to him? Let him know I feel like shit and I hate that he got injured.”

“I think he knows that, Clay. It’s not like you jumped out and pushed him off his bike or anything.”

He shrugs. “This is a competitive field. I can already see the articles now…journalists asking me if I’m happy I got another chance to up my race stats and take over as the top rookie…” He shakes his head. “Jett and I are teammates. I want it to stay that way. I’m on his side.”

“I’ll make sure he knows,” I promise.

At the pharmacy, Clay opens the door for me. While I get Jett’s prescriptions filled, Clay walks around the store, collecting random items. We make our way to the front desk to pay, and Clay dumps it all on the counter.

“It’s on me,” he tells me, taking out his wallet.

“What is it?” I say, lifting an eyebrow at the stuff he’s chosen.

“A care package for Jett. Magazines I know he loves, candy, junk food, a phone charger because he was complaining that he left his at home, and some Band-Aids.”

“Band-Aids?” I ask.

Clay smirks, handing his credit card to the cashier. “Inside joke.”

Clay holds the bags of stuff as we make our way the three blocks to the hotel. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I begin.

“Uh oh,” Clay says. “Those words are almost always followed by something I’ll take the wrong way.”

I laugh. “It’s just that you’re actually a cool guy.”

He grins. “That wasn’t so bad.”

I scratch my arm and glance over at his tattoos again. “You just seem like a boulder. Like this mean asshole who doesn’t ever know how to smile.”

“Okay, that was mean,” he says sarcastically.

“I told you not to take it the wrong way!” I say, slapping him on the arm.

He chuckles. “It’s cool. I get that a lot. I’m just a quiet guy most of the time. I don’t care for small talk or any of that shit, unless I’m with friends.”

“So are we friends?” I ask.

He throws an arm around my shoulder. “Looks like we are.”

 

***

 

The next morning, I pack up all of our stuff even though Jett wants to help. I have to glare at him and tell him to keep his ass in the bed where he belongs. The last thing he needs is to break his other leg while hobbling around the hotel room packing a suitcase.

“Baby…” Jett says in a whining voice. “I’m not an invalid. Let me help.”

“You’re recovering from a concussion,” I say, giving him a pointed stare. “Your butt stays on that bed until I say so.”

“You’re even worse than my mom,” he says.

I heft the suitcase onto the bed and zip it closed. “What’d she say about all of this?”

He snorts. “She hasn’t said a damn thing because I haven’t told her.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You were in the hospital with a concussion and a broken leg and you didn’t call your mom?”

He shrugs. “Why should I?”

“Because she cares about you!”

“It’s not that bad of an injury,” he says, but he does look a little guilty. “I would have called her if it was something bad.”

I roll my eyes. “Give me your phone.”

His eyes widen and he grabs the phone off the nightstand, pressing it against his chest. “She’s just going to worry.”

“No, she’s going to be pissed that you didn’t call and tell her immediately.”

Jett sighs and holds out his phone. “You’re right.”

I take it and call Bayleigh. I was right, of course. She was not thrilled to hear about Jett’s injury a day after it happened. But she tells us to be careful getting home and even offers to drive up to get us. I tell her we’re fine, and that leads me to the obstacle I’ve been avoiding.

Driving Jett’s truck.

It’s huge, with an extended cab and big tires and it feels like a monster on the road, especially compared to my tiny Mustang back home. It’s small and close to the road and I feel comfortable in my own car. I haven’t been driving long and Jett’s truck feels like a monster I’d have to wrangle into submission. But I’m doing this for him, and for me, to prove we can handle anything.

Jett climbs into his truck just fine by himself, even though I stand around to make sure.

“Baby, it’s a broken leg. I’m fine, really,” he says, kissing me just before I close the passenger door for him.

My heart pounds as I walk over to the driver’s side, the part of this truck I’ve only ever been near when I’m kissing Jett goodbye from the outside. With a deep breath, I grab the handle and yank open the door, then I climb inside as if I’m totally cool with this.

After all, I do know how to drive. It’s a straight shot back to Lawson, just a few hours of interstate and then we’ll be home. I can do this.

“You look sexy in a truck,” Jett says, winking at me as I start the engine.

“You look sexier than I do in the driver’s seat,” I say.

He grabs my leg and squeezes it, then reaches up and brushes my hair behind my ear. “Baby, you’re a great driver. Don’t let the truck intimidate you. You’ve got this.”

My heart warms and I return his smile. Then I put the truck in gear and pull out of the parking lot.

I was right about the interstate. It’s not so bad driving on it because there are no turns or red lights. By the time we get back to Lawson, Jett’s pain meds have kicked in and he’s asleep in the passenger seat. I feel a sense of pride at being the girlfriend who can handle things when he’s injured. It feels empowering, too. Like we’re both partners here.

When we get home, Jett’s dad meets us in the driveway with a pair of crutches that are covered in dirt bike stickers. Jett laughs when he sees them.

“They’re lucky crutches,” Jace explains to me when I give them both a weird look. “They’ve got me through a few broken bones and Jett’s used them twice.”

“Good ol’ Crutchy,” Jett says, winking at me. “I named them when I was five and Dad had broken his ankle. I wasn’t very creative.”

I roll my eyes and open the truck’s back door to retrieve our luggage, but Jace stops me. “I’ll get this stuff, hon.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, then I rush ahead to open the back door for Jett.

“You’re the best,” Jett tells me as he crutches on by me and into the house. He leans forward and gives me a kiss, then hobbles into the kitchen. I can hear Brooke crying from another room, which is probably where Bayleigh is.

Upstairs, Jett settles onto his futon, with snacks and drinks next to him and a video game loaded into the Xbox.

“I think you’re all set,” I say, surveying the scene I’ve put together.

Jett leans his head back on the futon and gives me a sultry look. “I’m missing one girlfriend,” he says, patting his lap. “Come here.”

We make out a little bit, but I cut it short because tomorrow is Monday and my first college classes start. I scoot off his lap and sit on the futon next to him, keeping my arm wrapped around his shoulder.

“I love you, but I need to go.”

He frowns, jutting out his bottom lip. “But I’ve heard that kissing makes bones heal faster.”

“I’d love to see the scientific evidence on that,” I say.

He grins and slides a hand up my leg, his fingers sliding under the hem of my shorts. “Let’s do our own research.”

My stomach flutters. I pull him closer and kiss him, parting my lips and letting his tongue do some exploring. His touch sends a fire up my belly, and before I know it, I’m allowing myself to be pulled onto his lap once again, my body grinding against his, his hands feeling up my shirt. I grab his hair and lightly tug his head back, breaking our kiss.

“I have to go,” I say, grinning at him.

“I know,” he says. He grabs my butt and rocks me against him. “You’re free to leave whenever you want.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It’s after ten at night and I have school at nine in the morning. “I love you,” I say just before I climb off him and try to gain my composure.

“Love you more,” he says back, giving me a wink.

Downstairs, Bayleigh stops me before I leave.

“What’s up?” I say, trying to look cool and not like I just made out with her son.

She shifts Brooke onto her hip and gives me a sad smile. “Just wanted to give you a little warning about Jett. He’s just like his dad,” she says, rolling her eyes in this sarcastic way. “When he gets hurt, he’s going to be pissed that he can’t ride, and it might feel like he’s mad at you. But he’s not, okay?”

My brows pull together. “He seemed okay just now.”

“That’s good,” she says. “But six weeks is a long time. If he starts becoming an asshole, just know it’s not you that he’s mad at. He’s mad at himself, okay? Don’t be afraid to put him in his place if he starts being an ass.”

I smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” she says, patting my arm. “Have a good night. And good luck at school tomorrow!”