Aflame (Fall Away #4) Read online

  I rolled my eyes, knowing how wrong she was. I loved the Loop and my home, and I never let any success I gained go to my head. Anything I said or did to give that impression was simply to get under her skin.

  I heard a throat clearing behind me and looked over my shoulder to see Fallon and Juliet smiling in support of their girl. I was kind of alone. Jax was up in the announcer’s stand and Madoc was off to the side, clearly not picking a side and just enjoying the show as his eyes shot between Tate and me.

  “But if I remember correctly,” Tate spoke up again as conversations around us halted and people started listening, “Jared did say he wanted to race, didn’t he?” she asked the crowd, looking around and egging them on.

  They cheered and laughed, clearly liking where she was going with this.

  “Tate?” I gritted out, warning her, but she ignored me.

  “Yes, yes, he did say that, didn’t he?” she shouted, now having everyone’s attention. “He said he wanted a race, and I think Zack and Jax would be more than happy to adjust the schedule for such a prestigious Loop alumnus.”

  I shot a hard look up to the stand, seeing my brother leaning down on the railing grinning his ass off.

  I took a deep breath, crossing my arms over my chest. “I said I wanted one race,” I clarified to Tate. “One race with one driver in particular.”

  She knew what I wanted. What was she doing?

  She turned around, looking into the crowd. “Derek! Derek Roman, where are you?”

  “What?” I heard his deep voice from off to my right.

  Cocking my head, I saw Roman coming through the crowd, using a shop cloth to clean off his fingers. He must’ve been under the hood of a car.

  After all this time, he hadn’t changed much. Still looked like a fifties greaser reject with his slicked black hair and plain T-shirts. We used to run into each other a lot at the Loop when I was in high school, and I knew he worked the Loop with Jax now, helping out and such, but I hadn’t talked to him. We didn’t get along, and Tate knew that.

  “You and Jared have unfinished business,” Tate reminded him, and I immediately felt the irritation pool under my skin when I realized what she was doing.

  “Your last race together was a tie, wasn’t it?” Tate knew the answer. She was merely reminding everyone.

  “No.” Roman shook his head. “I won that race.”

  “Like hell you did,” I blurted out, feeling my rival’s challenge like a hot poker in my side.

  He laughed, sounding condescending, and I looked over to see Tate’s lips curl in mischief as she held my eyes.

  “Derek,” she said softly. “How about a rematch? Your Trans Am against Jared’s bike?”

  “That’s a dumb race,” Roman shot back.

  “I agree.” I hooded my eyes in boredom. “He has no chance.”

  “Fuck you,” he growled.

  “Fuck you,” I mumbled, barely meeting his eyes.

  “Tensions are hot, everyone.” Tate looked to the crowd, holding up her hands. “What do you say?”

  I shifted in irritation as the noise became deafening. Shouts, howls, and cheers rang out in the hot, night air, and I really wanted to shut her up. Like really shut her up.

  “I’m not taking this race!” I heard Roman shout. “A sport bike against my car? That’s not fair!”

  “Exactly.” I nodded, inching toward Tate and ignoring Ben’s rigid stance beside her. “And I have nothing to prove, so why would I do this?” I asked her.

  “Because if you win,” she replied, “you can race me.” And then she looked to Ben. “You okay with that?”

  He cocked an eyebrow, his hard stare turning amused. She didn’t need his permission to race, but she was asking him out of respect. Racing her ex-boyfriend—or engaging in any activity with an ex-boyfriend—was crossing a line.

  “I’m not worried,” Ben replied, meeting my stare head to head as he spoke to her. “He’ll choke on your dust, babe.”

  Ohhs filled the air, and I inhaled a deep breath, just about done tolerating him.

  “Well, what about me?” Roman whined. “What do I get?”

  Tate walked past me, and I watched as she leaned in close, covering her lips with her hands as she whispered something to him. His eyebrows dug deep and then shot up in surprise, and I immediately knew she had sold him.

  I could race him and win, getting what I wanted from her—a little more interaction—but what the hell did she promise him?

  He smiled and shrugged. “Okay,” he called out. “Clear the track, everyone!” And he raced off to get his car, I would assume.

  Cheers rang out as everyone scurried off the track and huddled to the sides, making room for his car and my bike.

  And I just stood there, wondering what the hell had just happened. I ate guys like Roman for breakfast. This wasn’t a race. The maneuverability of my bike alone was an unfair advantage against him.

  “What did you promise him?” I asked as Tate walked by.

  “I promised him he would win,” she called over her shoulder, following Ben off the track.

  I followed. “On no planet would he ever win against a sport bike. Or me.” I added.

  She reached over, grabbing my helmet off my bike handle and tossing it to me. “Get it on, get on the starting line, and prove it.”

  She stood there, seeming so sure about herself. So calm and unaffected, and I didn’t like this. Any of it.

  I missed my Tate. The wildcat who fought back and smiled because she was happy, not because she was planning something to make me squirm. This new cool and calculated woman was a little scary, and I couldn’t keep up.

  She walked away, and I swung my leg over my bike, starting it and revving the engine, the high-pitched whir loud enough to drown out any other noise here tonight. I pulled up onto the track and lined myself up next to Roman’s 2002 Pontiac Trans Am.

  I loved to race, and even though this didn’t even compare to my usual venues, my heart still pounded like a two ton hammer.

  Jax came over, affixing two Go Pros to my handlebars, one facing the track and another facing me. “She’s changed,” I commented to him, slipping on my black helmet.

  He nodded, keeping his eyes focused on his task. “She’s definitely harder to impress now, so step up your game.”

  I didn’t want to step up my game. I didn’t want to play any game period. I just wanted to take her somewhere. Cry, fight, even let her hit me, but at the end of it all, she’d be in my arms, her storm blue eyes looking up at me and desperate for only what I could give her. That was my Tate.

  I jerked, feeling a hand squeeze my shoulder, and I looked behind me to see Tate climbing on the bike in back of me.

  What the . . . ?

  “What are you doing?” I barked, noticing her clasp Fallon’s half-helmet to her head.

  “Riding,” she chirped. “It’s part of the deal.”

  “Oh, hell no!” I growled, twisting my head farther around to scowl at her. “It’s too dangerous. Get off!”

  “If I don’t go with you, then you don’t get your prize if you win,” she explained, her voice calm and even. “And if you back out of the race now, everyone will think you’re scared.” She shrugged. “Or too stuck-up to indulge us.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Oh, look,” she interrupted, jerking her chin in a cheery voice. “Here we go.”

  I darted my gaze to Zack coming off the announcer’s stand and back at her as she adjusted herself on the rear seat.

  I breathed in and out, not knowing what to do. Shit!

  “Derek Roman,” Zack boomed through the megaphone, “and Jared Trent last raced five years ago this fall! It was one of the most memorable nights we had here . . .”

  “Get off!” I whispered over my shoulder to Tate.

  “Not ha
ppening,” she shot back. “Can’t make this too easy for you, can we?”

  My eyes nearly bugged out as realization hit. Fuck. I twisted around to say more, but Zack spoke up again.

  “Because it was also the first time we ever saw Tatum Brandt race!” he continued. “To solve the tie between Jared and Derek, we had their girlfriends race. However, the score never really felt settled, and now, five years later, we can give everyone a chance to see who the real winner is!”

  Cheers and excited laughter rang out, and I looked over my shoulder, growling low at Tate.

  “Get off now,” I ordered. “I can’t race with you hanging on to me!”

  I heard her snort as she wrapped her arms around my waist and leaned down into my back. “It’s just a little pond, Jared,” she taunted, throwing my words back at me.

  I shook my head, gritting my teeth.

  She wasn’t going to let me race without her on the bike. I couldn’t race like I normally would for fear of hurting her. And backing out now wasn’t a choice because . . .

  “Are you ready gentlemen?” Zack called, and I groaned.

  “No,” I answered under my breath. And then I called behind me, “You better hold on.” I revved my engine as Derek’s Trans Am rumbled next to me.

  Tate tightened her arms around me, and I wondered what Ben thought of all this. He was no doubt watching. Had Tate warned him before climbing on behind me?

  “I’m going to get you back for this, you know,” I threatened her.

  She nuzzled in close, her breath tickling my ear. “You can try.”

  A smile tugged at my lips that I wouldn’t let loose.

  “Ready!” Zack called, and I faced forward, tensing every muscle in my arms.

  “Set!” Tate went rigid against my body.

  “Go!”

  Liquid heat flooded my body, and screams filled the air as we shot off, our tires spinning, kicking up smoke and the smell of hot rubber as we launched down the track.

  My rear end wobbled with the extra weight I wasn’t used to, and I gripped the handle bars tighter, trying to stay straight. Derek shot off ahead of me, but I picked up speed immediately, accelerating ahead of him as Tate let out an excited laugh. Her scared arms tightened, and I loved feeling her warmth at my back. I always loved her on my bike.

  But as we rounded the first turn, I immediately slammed on the brakes.

  “Shit!” I growled, feeling the full measure of the extra weight behind me carrying me to one side and messing up my balance. I couldn’t round corners the way I was used to in races—speeding ahead and bending low to the ground—because I wasn’t on my racing bike, and I wasn’t alone.

  Tate gasped, her body settling on my back, since she was seated higher up and leaning down.

  I brought my foot down, grazing the ground as I rounded the corner and feeling her wobble at my back. Derek honked his horn, skidding behind me, and I slammed on the gas, charging ahead right after him.

  I felt Tate’s chest shake against my back, and I knew she was laughing. I hardened my jaw.

  At least she was quiet about her gloating.

  I picked up speed, able to go much faster than Roman, but the turns killed me. It was no use.

  He was able to make corners faster, because he didn’t have to slow down as much—or worry about the safety of another person in his car—and I couldn’t concentrate, because Tate was on my body and in my head, and she knew what she was doing. I couldn’t race like this.

  My balance was off, and she knew I was worried about hurting her. In a car, she was somewhat shielded, but out here . . . I was scared shitless, and I wouldn’t take the chance. She shifted, we wobbled, and there was no way I could protect her if something happened.

  By the time we rounded the fourth turn, Derek was already nearing the finish line, and I felt my stomach roll as I cruised past, pulling to a slow stop past the announcer’s stand and feeling the heat of embarrassment cover my skin.

  Dammit.

  Roman was crowded with spectators, and he climbed out of his car, smiling ear to ear.

  I pulled off my helmet, having never felt so fucking humiliated.

  I’d just lost a bike race to an old rival I could barely stand in front of a hundred people I went to high school with.

  I’m not going to kill her. I won’t hurt her.

  But I was going to do things to her. I slammed my helmet down on the handle bar. Lots of fun things.

  I hung my head, breathing in and out steadily as Tate climbed off the bike and stepped up to my side, removing her helmet.

  “You know,” she started, looking off toward Roman, “You made him pretty damn happy. Derek doesn’t really have that much going on in his life,” she told me, looking thoughtful. “He has some friends and the Loop, but that’s it. He’ll never be one to rise high or have the world at his feet. This will probably keep him high for a month.”

  Her mouth tilted in a little smile, and I looked over to see him laughing with his friends, enjoying the praise and admiration. The win clearly made him feel good, and it probably made him look good. I looked at Tate, realizing what she was doing for him.

  I shook my head and gave a half smile. “What did you promise him if he won?”

  “Nothing,” she replied. “I just guaranteed him he would win.”

  “You were that sure,” I said, knowing she must’ve told him her plan to ride with me.

  She nodded. “He likes me and trusts me. More than he does you.”

  “Great,” I bit out.

  She jerked her chin. “Look at him, though.” She smiled. “This is probably the best he’s felt in a long time.” And then she looked back at me. “He doesn’t need a reward. He just needed the win.”

  I looked over at Roman, realizing she was right. He wasn’t a threat to me anymore, and I had a lot to be happy about. No harm done.

  She let out a hard sigh. “But this really sucks for you, though,” she teased, fake sympathy written all over her face. “Jared Trent, up and coming motor bike racer for CD One Racing losing to an amateur on this small pond?” She laughed. “Yikes.”

  And I watched her walk away, my face hardening as she went up to Ben and wrapped her arms around him.

  I climbed off my bike, staring after her.

  It was definitely time to step up my game.

  ***

  It wasn’t a turn-on a year and a half ago, so why the hell was I turned on now?

  I shifted slightly in my seat, the swirl of heat shooting from my stomach to my groin, and I watched, wanting him to touch her.

  I actually wanted it.

  I dared him to slide his fucking hand higher up her thigh, so I could feel more of what I’d missed feeling the past two years.

  Only Tate did this to my head. Only she twisted my body up like this.

  Nothing had changed.

  “Jared, what are you doing?” I hear Pasha’s breathless voice as she shoves the hotel room door open.

  I tip back the rocks glass and down the rest of the whiskey, the thick burn tearing up my throat before it warms my stomach. Dropping the glass to the floor, I fall back onto the bed—one of many beds on which I’d slept alone, completely faithful to Tate—and I feel the tears wet the corners of my eyes. But I tighten my jaw, refusing to let them fall.

  I just want everyone to leave me alone.

  I breathe in through my nose, defiant, willing myself to either forget or accept what I’d seen tonight through Tate’s bedroom window.

  She had a boyfriend.

  The ceiling spins above me, and I bring my hands up to my head, digging my palms into my closed eyes.

  Six months ago, Tate loved me, and now I was nothing. The last time I was nothing to her—the last time she talked tough and tried to convince me that I didn’t matter—I’d stolen our first kiss.
/>
  And I knew she had lied.

  But now . . . she’d shown me that she was forgetting me.

  I feel like I did in high school. Before she was mine.

  I can’t stop the first tear from falling. “Tate,” I breathe out, wiping my face quickly.

  “Who’s Tate?” Pasha sounds worried, and I know she doesn’t understand any of this. “Jared, are you crying?”

  “Just get out,” I growl.

  I gave her my extra key, so she could get in to get anything I might forget for tomorrow’s race, but unfortunately, she must’ve heard my commotion when I kicked over the portable bar and broke a bottle earlier.

  “You have a race at ten a.m.!” she shouts. “You have to be at the track by seven, and you’re drunk off your ass!”

  I shoot up into a sitting position. “Out!” I bellow. “Get the fuck out!”

  “What the hell’s going on?” I hear a male voice and instantly know it’s Craig Danbury, the team’s manager.

  “Oh, my God,” he swears under his breath, probably taking in the sight of my drunken disarray.

  I don’t look up from my hands, but I see his shoes near the door.

  “What the hell is wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know,” Pasha says. “And I don’t know if he’s going to be okay tomorrow.”

  I press my head between both hands, unable to concentrate on anything except her. She didn’t wait for me. Why didn’t she wait?

  Anger charges through my body, and I want a fight. I want to hit someone.

  “He better be okay,” Craig snaps. “I don’t care what you have to do. Get him a girl or a pill . . . just get him back to one hundred percent by morning.”

  I hear him leave, and I shake my head. I’m losing control, and I hate this feeling. I never wanted to feel this again.

  Pasha’s hands land on my forearms as she kneels in front of me.