Free Read Novels Online Home

White Lies: A Forbidden Romance Standalone by Dylan Heart (4)

4

The miles fly by at forty miles per hour. The chilly September wind breathes through a thin crack of the window, as a blast of heat curves over my body from the dashboard vents. I’m cold and I’m hot. There’s a twister breaking in the cab of this silent pickup truck. We don’t talk when we win games, but you should see us when we lose them.

Coach insists the schedule for the rest of the year is easy; that tonight’s game against The Eagles was the hardest it was going to get. I hope he’s right, because when we lose, he needs someone to place the blame on. I’m the easiest and nearest target.

He drives with one hand controlling the wheel, while his other hand rests tensely on the shifter. He looks both ways as we approach a four-way intersection with stop signs on each side. Instead of slowing down, he shifts into fourth gear as we speed through the intersection.

I push my back against the seat and press my foot against an imaginary brake beneath me. I shake my head and prepare myself to speak.

But he speaks first. “Where were you before halftime?”

“In the bleachers like always, playing the part of the devoted wife.” That’s not the last lie I’ll tell tonight. There will be another hundred more, depending on how long it takes him to pass out on his rightful place on the couch.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He shifts his attention to me, stealing quick glances at the road in between accusations. “I turned around and you were gone.”

“You don’t get to control me anymore,” I say softly and grow uncomfortable at the way he looks at me. I turn away from him.

“Control? When have I ever—“

“Just drop it,” I scold him, followed by an immediate huff as I lower my head against the cool window.

“Tell me where you were, and I’ll consider it.”

“I went to get coffee.”

“And that’s it?”

“Jesus,” I mumble under my breath. “What is your problem?”

“People talk, Stassi,” his voice begins to rise, his tone leveling from concern into contempt.

“Just as they breathe, shit, eat, and piss, Brock.” I throw the attitude right back in his face. It’s easier this way, to communicate in sarcasm, because it’s easier than telling the truth.

“Three more months.” He shakes his head, almost violently as his fingers tangle tighter around the wheel. “That’s all I’ve asked of you.”

“How terribly kind of you,” I say deadpan, a choice of words I soon come to regret as I feel the tires beneath us slipping against gravel. We come to a quick stop on the one-lane dirt road.

“Excuse me?” he questions with gravel in his throat. He throws his arm behind my head, running along the length of seat. “If you want to say something, then say something. I’m so fucking tired of your passive aggressive bullshit.”

“Don’t you dare put this on me.” I narrow my eyes on him. “This is your mess. This is your quicksand of hurt you’ve thrown us in.”

“Save the metaphors for your students, Stassi.”

“I’m drowning,” I cry softly, showing the weakness I’ve been carrying inside for the past year. The tough girl exterior is cracking, and I want nothing more than to run.

“Because you won’t let me in.”

“Whatever, Coach,” I snarl at him, because I know how much it angers him when I call him anything but Brock or babe, or whatever the fuck we used to call each other. I can’t have a real conversation right now. I’d rather we stand in the boxing ring, throwing verbal punches.

“If you hate me so much—“

“I don’t hate you,” I whisper and wrap my fingers tight around the ring on my finger. I’m holding onto something I can no longer carry, but it hurts more to let go than to stay. “I wish I could, but I can’t. So I’ll go on pretending.”

“Pretending that you love me?”

“Pretending that I don’t.” I continue to look at him for a split second, but it’s enough to see the pain and confusion in his eyes. I don’t know where the confusion comes from, but it’s there, suffocating him from the inside. In these quiet moments, I remember who we were, and who we can never be again. He’s as young as I am, minus a few weeks, but we’re showing our age with the tragedy written all over our faces. He’s older than he should be, with sunken eyes and seeds of grey smattered among the buzzed hair on his chin.

I shake my head and turn my gaze out the window, opting to stare into the moonlit darkness of the forest. My silent escape is shattered with the jangling of the keys and then a pop of a bottle top. I snap my attention back to him and shake my head in contempt. With one hand I roll down my window, and with the other, I rip the bottle of beer from his hand just as he’s about to take a sip. I launch the bottle out of the window, where it shatters against a tree stump.

He bows his head and chuckles to himself before reaching into the brown bag between us and grabbing another bottle. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. The keys jangle as he maneuvers the bottle opener that’s attached to the keys to the bottle top, and pop.

I throw the door open and jump out of the truck.

“Where the hell are you going?”

I slam the door shut. “I’m going to walk home.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He leans across the seat of the cab and pushes the door open. “Get back in the truck.”

“Nope.” I slam the door shut again. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Stassi,” he scolds me and reaches for the handle of the door.

I throw my weight against the door and hold it shut as he tries to push it open. “Go home, Coach.”

“Fine,” he yells in defeat, his voice cracking. “You can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“I’d rather sleep on the road,” I whisper to myself as I reach into the blue truck bed and retrieve a six-pack of beer. I pull one from the cardboard box and pop the cap off using the lining of the truck, leaving one hell of a scratch in the process. Oops. I step to the truck door, swing it open and toss the rest of the beer onto the passenger seat. “Try not to wreck into a tree.”

He purses his lips and shakes his head at me. He wants to say something—perhaps scream something, but he’s holding it in. I wish he would just explode like I want to explode. I want to fight. I want to feel something. To feel something, I must fight. We must fight.

Before I can shut the door, tires are kicking gravel into the air and against my jeans. I slam the door shut just as he begins to peel out, accelerating into the night.

I take a quick glance down at the beer in my hand and decide I don’t need it. With all the force I can muster, I hurl the bottle of beer at his truck. It shatters against the tailgate. I was aiming for a window, but I’ll take what I can get.

Brake lights paint the road in a foreboding light. The dirt, the gravel, and the trees—everything glows with red rage. I stand in the center of the road, my entire body basking in the soft light. I stand there waiting for him to jump out, to confront me.

Just fucking do something.

The moments tick by. Gravel crunches under my feet as I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Moments tick by. The exhaust from the truck sputters, polluting the road I stand on.

He finally pulls away and I’m left unsatisfied, with nothing to drink and no particular motivation to walk to the house. Five miles out from home, I figure I’ve got plenty of time to think about going back. Best-case scenario involves an empty bottle of booze with Mr. Death Do Us Part passed out over the toilet by the time I walk in the front door.

A girl can only dream.

I push my cold hands into my jeans, curse myself for not grabbing my jacket before jumping out of the damn truck, and then begin the long walk home.

Headlights flash behind me as a car rises over a tall hill. I step to the left side of the road so the car can pass by, but to my surprise, it comes to a slow crawl right beside me. Instinct tells me I should keep walking, and that I do. But the car continues it’s slow crawl with tires crunching against gravel.

The window rolls down, and the driver—a familiar face—drapes his arm over the edge of the door. It’s the stranger from the football game driving in a seventies era ice blue Challenger.

Search

Search

Friend:

Popular Free Online Books

Read books online free novels

Hot Authors

Sam Crescent, Zoe Chant, Flora Ferrari, Mia Madison, Lexy Timms, Alexa Riley, Claire Adams, Sophie Stern, Leslie North, Elizabeth Lennox, Amy Brent, Frankie Love, Jordan Silver, Bella Forrest, C.M. Steele, Jenika Snow, Madison Faye, Mia Ford, Kathi S. Barton, Michelle Love, Dale Mayer, Delilah Devlin, Sloane Meyers, Amelia Jade, Piper Davenport,

Random Novels

Unbroken (The Monroe Family Book 9) by Nicole Dykes

Fated Bear: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Silverbacks and Second Chances Book 3) by Harmony Raines

Rock Hard Prince Charming: A Royal Bad Boy Romance by Rye Hart

Resistance (The Chicago Defiance MC Series Book 1) by K E Osborn

Beyond Paradise by Barbara Nolan

SEAL'd With A Kiss: A Second Chance SEAL Romance by Nicole Elliot, Ellie Wild

Don't Fall by K.S. Thomas

Lies & Secrets (Boston Latte Book 1) by Fiona Keane

The Stalker by Lauren Gilley

One True Mate 8: Night of the Beast by Lisa Ladew

Knight Moves: Rodeo Knights, A Western Romance Novel by Lenora Worth

Keeper by Amy Daws

Misadventures on the Night Shift (Misadventures Book 6) by Lauren Rowe

Mountain Man's Bride by Lauren Wood

SAUL: The Pagans MC by Claire St. Rose

Breaking Out by Lydia Michaels

The Master of Grex by Joan Wolf

Roses for His Omega: A Mapleville Valentine's Day Novella: M/M Non Shifter Alpha/Omega Mpreg (Mapleville Omegas Book 2) by Lorelei M. Hart, Ophelia Heart

The Perfect Gentleman by Delaney Foster

by Marissa Farrar