That was against the rules, wasn’t it? But at this point are we still following the rules? I thought as soon as Shade wrecked and it was announced he was out of competing for three months, I’d be heading home. They wouldn’t need me around, right?
Turned out they needed me more than ever now because, with Shade unable to race, that meant someone needed to take care of him.
That left me. And I was gladly willing to do it. I needed to prove to him there was more to my reasoning behind taking the job and I truly cared for his well-being. Yes, I took the job because I wanted to be around him and help him in a way I never had when Asher died, but even in that first night at his house, I realized it was way more than that, and this guy had quickly become someone I knew I wasn’t going to be able to live without.
I know what you’re thinking. You still haven’t told him about Asher. Well, I intend to. I’m not keeping it from him, I just haven’t decided how to bring up the dead-by-suicide ex yet.
Truth is, I never thought I’d feel that way about anyone again after Asher so telling Shade about him won’t be easy. I will tell him. . . eventually.
For now, do you see that guy at the door to the guest house? The one standing in front of me in shorts, with a stiff neck and sunglasses on?
He looks nervous, doesn’t he?
“I’ve never done this before but would you like to go on a date with me?” he asks, his hands in his pockets.
Tiller laughs from the chair beside the pool, his phone in hand, hanging over the side of the chair. “You’re pathetic.”
Shade shoots him a dirty look and then looks at me, raising his sunglasses so I can see his expression clearer. “Will you?”
Yep. He’s definitely nervous. I’ve seen this look. It’s the same expression he had when he asked me to cut his hair and feared I’d shave it all off.
When he asks me the question, the going out one, I can’t hide my smile. I’ve never been asked on a date before. Like, ever. Not even with Asher. I was too young back then, and he was too much of a rebel to ever ask a girl out on an actual date. “Of course I will.”
Shade lets out a breath, blows it out in a whoosh, and stands up straight. “Okay, uh, like seven sound okay? Maestro’s in Beverly Hills?”
Did he really think I’d say no? Well, he probably did. Look how long I’ve been saying no to his advances so far? Sure, we’d made incredible ground as far as our relationship goes since that night we kissed on the couch, and the shower, but there was still the contract I signed. I couldn’t technically go further than the touching and the naked sponge baths where he sucked on my nipples and played with my clit ring.
“So, Maestro’s?” he presses when I don’t answer.
“Oh, right.” I wave my hand around. “Yes. I don’t know what that is but yes. I want to go.”
His smile widens. “Maestro’s is a steak house.”
“Great. I love meat.”
Shit. Why’d I say that?
Tiller laughs. “Yeah, she does. Just not yours.”
Shade turns his body, careful of his neck and its lack of mobility. “Shut the fuck up, Tiller.”
He laughs again. “I can’t. I’m incapable of it.”
Shade turns back to me, then around again, like he’s going to leave. Facing me, he nods, his hands in his pockets. “I’ll meet you in the driveway at seven.” After kissing my cheek, he walks away, straight over to Tiller. And then pushes him right into the pool. “I hope you drown.”
When he’s out of sight in the house, I close the door and call Willa in a panic. “He asked me on a date.”
“Who?”
I roll my eyes and flop myself onto the bed. “Shade.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I said I’d go.”
“Aww, that’s cute. Have fun.”
Did she really just say that? You heard it too, didn’t you?
“I know my contract says—”
And she cuts me off. “Scarlet, I don’t expect you guys to stick to that. I know you are both adults and have needs.” I giggle when she says that because though we have needs, she has no idea the needs I’ve been taking care of for him lately. “I just put the no sex in the contract so you wouldn’t get confused with why you were there in the first place. You were there to snap him out of the bullshit.” She pauses, and I can hear the baby crying in her arms. “But I think waiting has helped both of you develop an actual relationship rather than a physical one, hasn’t it?”
Shit. She’s right.
“Okay, you’re right. But when do you come back?”
Willa laughs, the sounds of the baby cooing in her ear. “Not long.”
I’LL SKIP SOME things here. The unimportant parts.
Like me showering, shaving my legs, cutting them, trimming the thin patch of hair I keep on my girly bits and finally, taming my hair. That proves to be the hardest part.
Around six forty-five, I make my way out of the guest house and to the driveway where Shade said he’d meet me.
Tiller’s out there washing his truck with no shirt on. It’s fall by the way, but it’s also Southern California, and it didn’t get the memo it’s fall.
He holds the hose up like he’s going to spray me. “Need a shower?”
I glare. “Don’t even think about it. My hair will poof up.”
“That’d be hot. I like it wild and crazy.” He hits the nozzle, and the spray moves over the stone beneath my feet but doesn’t reach me quite yet, but it’s close.
“Tiller. . . ,” I warn.
He laughs, and it’s almost manic.
That’s when I notice Shade approaching. “Hey,” he says, smirking and it’s devastatingly beautiful to see this look again.
“Hey,” I say back.
Shade pushes a hand through his dark hair. I love this look, scruffy sharp jaw line, blazing blue eyes, a black polo shirt meeting a pair of light-gray shorts hanging off his hips in the most delicious way.
He doesn’t wear the neck brace. He claims he doesn’t need it anymore and because you can't take a girl out and wear it. His words, not mine.
Shade’s eyes lie heavily on me from a few feet away. They’re hidden behind his Von Zipper’s, but his regard, his attention, it’s all on me. I’ve felt this look before, but now, here in the setting southern California sun, there’s newness in his focus.
He inches his sunglasses to the brim of his nose. “You’re pretty tonight.”
I twirl like I’m a ballerina. “I am every day, star boy.”
He catches me by the waist. “You are.” Then glances at Tiller who’s attempting to spray us with the hose. “Knock it off, asshole.”
Tiller chuckles darkly. “I’m holdin’ the hose, man.”
Camden runs up to us, a soap-covered sponge in hand and grins at us. “Where are you going?”
“Maestro’s,” Shade tells him, ruffling his hair.
“I love steak. Can I come too?”
“Not this time, bud.” Camden’s face falls. “But tomorrow night, it’s on. Me, you, and Mario Brothers.”
Camden shrugs. “Okay.” And then he’s back to Tiller’s truck. “Can I drive it down the driveway?”
Tiller squirts him with the hose and tosses his keys at him. “Knock yourself out.”
I glance at Shade, who’s smiling at me. “Is he really going to let him drive his truck?”
“Probably.”
“Ready?” I hold up my keys.
“Nope.” He gives a gentle shake to his head. “I’m not riding with you again. I don’t see how you still have a driver’s license.”
He’s referring to the time I took him to a doctor’s appointment a few weeks ago. By the end of the car ride, he swore he’d never ride with me again, though he said that before, and iced his neck for an hour afterward.
“You’re not getting on your bike, and besides, I’m wearing a dress. Treat me like a lady.”
He pulls his keys out of his pocket. “I have other cars.”
With his hand on the small of my back, he leads me to the garage where he clicks the remote and starts a black car. I don’t know anything about cars, but this one looks fast and fancy and is rumbling so loud I can feel the vibration in my chest.
I run my hand over the sleek black fender. “When did you get this? You steal it from the set of The Fast and the Furious?”
“I’ve always had it.” He watches my hand on the fender and then lifts his eyes to mine. Do you notice the way his body shifts, into mine but he’s still tense? This car has a story behind it. And then he admits, “It was my dad’s car.”
My heart’s in my throat. I drop my eyes to the car, the hood scoop, the shine; he’s certainly taken care of it. “And you kept it all these years?”
He laughs lightly. “You don’t get rid of a 68 Dodge Charger RT.”
“True.” And before I know it, my back is pressed against the passenger side door and he’s kissing me. His tongue sweeps over the seam of my lips and the warm metal of his tongue ring sends a shiver through me. I part my lips, allowing him access and I’m immediately aware this kiss is promising. It’s electrifying and the way his hands find my hips, bunch in the fabric of my dress, I’m reminded what could happen tonight.
Suddenly, I want the date out of the way and us getting to the good parts.
Shade pulls back, breathing heavily. “We should go before I lay you out on the hood and fuck you.”
I nod, trying to catch my breath. “You’re right.”
AT DINNER, IT’S like any other date. . . I assume. Then again, it’s not.
By the time we’ve ordered drinks and an appetizer, Shade has been approached four times for his autograph and pictures. Everyone wants to know when he’s coming back, how he’s feeling and if he plans on competing at Aftershock next month.
“I’m sorry,” he says, sighing when the last group of teenagers leave the table. You’d think at a fancy restaurant they wouldn’t find us here, tucked away in the back, but they do.
I sip my wine. “It’s okay.”
He leans in, elbows resting on the table. “No, it’s not. You deserve to have a date, not this.”
He’s frustrated, and that’s the last thing I want for tonight. “It’s really okay. I’ve never been on an actual date before so. . . this is perfect.”
Shade’s brow furrows. “Really? You’ve never been on a date?”
“Nope. The only guy I ever really dated in that sense was Asher, and he never took me out on a date.”
“When did he die?” Shade asks, lifting his glass of water to his lips, but keeping his eyes intent on mine.
Take a look at my face. Do you see the confusion as to how Shade knows Asher died? Up until now, I haven’t told him anything about Asher aside from the fact that he liked to pierce me.
So how’d he figure it out?
“What are you talking about?” My words tremble.
“Asher,” he says, voice soft and eyes low. “Your boyfriend who pierced you. When did he die?”
The moment he says “Asher,” the pain hits me so hard I feel a sword spears my soul.
Oh God, there’s that pain. That overwhelming, consuming, horrendous pain I’ve kept hidden for so long. It’s like a blinding hot dagger to my heart. No one ever mentions it anymore and hasn’t for years. They’ve forgotten or pretend to have forgotten, but I haven’t. Just like Shade can’t forget Rhya. It’s a reminder that nothing is forever.
“Nine years ago,” I say, barely able to speak the words, my voice distant as I picture that tattoo shop and the night I walked out of it.
Shade nods. “How?” His voice is soft, and I see that he’s not pushing me to talk about; he’s just asking.
And here’s where our connection lies, and I’m about to confess it. Maybe I should have told him sooner, but I couldn’t. “He. . . uh. . . killed himself.”
Shade doesn’t offer much in the way of a reaction. But I know him well enough now to see the signs. The way he shifts in his chair, the way his jaw clenches and the realization that this is why we’re drawn together, digs at his brow and he sighs. “Were you afraid to tell me?”
I nod. “I was. I know I should have told you sooner but with Rhya. . . I guess I didn’t know how to. I should have though and I’m sorry.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” He tightens his grip on my hands, forcing my eyes to his. “While I know how it feels to lose someone close to you by suicide, I don’t expect you to tell me everything that happened between you, just like you don’t know everything about Rhya.”
We’re silent, for a moment before he asks, “How long were you with Asher?”
“Couple years.” I make eye-contact with him when I say, “I blamed myself.
Carefully, he tips his head to the side. “Why?”
“Because the night he took his life, I had broken up with him hours before and I thought it was because of me.”
“And you don’t believe that now?”
“No, I don’t. People who end their own lives. . . it’s not because of any one event. It’s years upon years of being stuck in a place they don’t understand. Suicide isn’t selfish. It’s a decision made when they’re weak and powerless to their own mind.”
Shade nods and draws in a breath. I’m not entirely sure he’s heard everything I said. Maybe he’s not ready to. He’s squinting as if he’s thinking about something and fiddling idly with his sunglasses on the table. “I don’t think I ever understood the level of darkness she was really in.” He draws in a breath. “Rhya. . . fuck, she was a horrible influence on me.” He laughs, his shoulders shaking, and then his eyes find mine and they’re filled with so much emotion I can’t decipher which one to focus on. “But I remember when I knew how bad it really was for her.”
“At Glen Helen?”
He nods. “She was always trouble. The type of girl who was looking for it, you know? Her dad would be jacking cars, her mom in the passenger seat doin’ lines and Rhya’d be in the backseat saying go faster. It was a shit show.”
My eyes widen. “Where are her parents now?”
“Mom overdosed. Dad’s in prison.”
“Jesus. And Reece turned out normal?”
He laughs. “Normal as possible. All us freestyle guys are labeled as crazy so that’s debatable.” He gives me a wink, then his jaw tightens. “What happened with you and Asher?”
“He didn’t know. . . ” I pause, unsure how to answer because I don’t know the answer, even after nine years. It takes me a moment because I have to think about it, and then again, no, I don’t.
“He didn’t know how to exist in a world that didn’t understand him.”
Can you see Shade’s face? The emotion surfacing? The way his blue eyes soften and focus on mine? He gets it.
Asher spent his whole life trying to be something he wasn’t to the point it became an effort to even breathe on his own because he’d somehow forgotten how.
I don’t know why, but I open up to Shade when his eyes soften and tell him a little more about the boy who taught me what love was. “I met him at a tattoo shop just before I turned fifteen. Sort of became my home away from home. He was. . . so angry and didn’t care what anyone thought. I liked that about him, you know? Soon he became the perfect way to rebel against my mother, like she gave a fuck though. And then eventually I wasn’t just a girl looking to rebel. I was a girl suffocating under his anger. I didn’t realize how dark his mind really was until it was too late.”
Now I imagine mine are filled with emotion and I’m sure he’s trying to decipher it. “Did he. . . ever hurt you?”
“He never hit me. I think. . . .” I laugh, but tears burn my eyes. “It’s weird to say, even now, but he loved me too much to hit me, though I know he had it in him. If that makes sense.”
He nods, his jaw clenching.
“Asher smothered me with his own insecurities until they became mine, and I knew if I didn’t leave, I’d become him.”
I wonder if he realizes how closely our relationships with the people we lost mirrored one another. The corner of Shade’s mouth moves, not exactly a smile, but not a frown either. Like he understands exactly what I’m saying.
“Did you and Rhya ever date?”
He drops his eyes from mine, focusing on the table. “Not exactly. We were together a few times, but it wasn’t a relationship in the sense that she was my girlfriend.” He draws in a breath and carefully releases it when our eyes do meet. There’s pain evident in the way he can’t forget her, no matter how hard he tries. I know because I will forever compare every relationship I have to the one I had with Asher. It’s only natural for us.
You can’t explain it until it’s happened to you. At least I can’t.
I don’t ask any more about Rhya and he doesn’t ask any more about Asher. It’s like he knows this isn’t a conversation we have to have at the moment.
Maybe someday we will talk about them openly, without the hurt, but even now, though it’s been nine years, I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about all the ways Asher destroyed my heart. And looking at Shade, he’s not ready either. Sure, he knows now what a liar Rhya had been, but it’s still not easy to open up.
To forget.
To forgive.
All that comes with time and when your heart’s ready to accept it.