Burnout (Jack 'Em Up Book 0) (14 page)

He sat up as if steel filled his spine and his gaze shuttered. “Yeah. All of that. This was never gonna work between us, Dee, you know that.”

I reared back. “I do
not
know that! What’s going on here?”

His fist slammed the steering wheel. “Damn it, Delilah! We’ve known from the beginning that this was coming.” He met my eyes, ignoring the tears streaking down my cheeks. “We’re too different, you and me. Our relationship was doomed from the start . . . hell, we had to keep it a secret from most everyone.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but what could I say? He was right. Other than school, where we skated on thin ice to keep it contained, we had kept our relationship hidden in the dark. Giving it no room to blossom.

“We don’t have to,” I pleaded. “We can—”

“No, Delilah.” He turned away from me, his gaze out the windshield. “We can’t. It was great while it lasted, but it’s time to call it what it was. Temporary. I’m going to the Marines, you’re going off to . . . to wherever people like you go.”

He might as well have slapped me. “People like me?”

“Yeah. People who live in golden castles. People who shouldn’t be messing with trailer trash.”

He wasn’t budging an inch. That was clear in the way he held himself, solid as a boulder. Not the sweet, tender Blake I’d come to know and love. Where had he gone?

Why did it hurt so much?

Angrily swiping the tears from my face, I opened my door and jumped out. “Fine,” I spat back. “I’ll go back to my
golden castle
. But don’t for one second believe I think you’re trailer trash. You’re too good for that, Blake. I love you, damn it!”

I slammed the door and stomped to my car and sped out without looking back, praying the entire time we’d find our way back to each other.

Blake

I
t was like a piece of my soul had been ripped from my body. Half of it, really.

Delilah and I cut off all contact after she’d left the Super Lube in a fit of anger and tears. Not that I blamed her. She obviously thought I’d gotten what I wanted then bailed. God, if she only knew the truth.

It was near impossible to avoid her at school, so I’d been skipping Government class so I wouldn’t have to watch her walk in or be subjected to her scent of sunshine. It was just too much.

I felt like a zombie going through my days. An endless cycle of fights with my dad, sleepless nights, and miserable days at school.

In Auto Shop today, I was working on autopilot, not really caring about the chassis in front of me.

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

I glanced over as Trace sat on a creeper next to me. “Not much.”

He ran a finger across the polished metal. “I wanted to thank you for helping me with my car the other day when I brought it in to the lube shop.”

I’d already forgotten about the quick repair I did on his Jeep. It was no big deal. “No problem.”

“Well, I couldn’t have done it. You’re really good at all this, ya know?”

Surprised, I faced him.

“Yeah, man, I gotta work really hard to learn this stuff, but it just seems to come natural to you.” He turned to look at me. “You’re lucky.”

Lucky was probably the last word I’d use to describe myself. I shrugged and continued working. “Thanks.”

“Micah mentioned you guys were joining the Marines together after graduation.”

“Yeah.”

Well, Micah was going, all but had the enlistment papers in his hand. I, on the other hand, had done a lot of talking, but not a lot of action. Guess I needed to get my ass in gear. There was just something holding me back.

“Shame.”

“What?”

He grinned a lopsided half-smile. “No, I mean the military’s great. I was just thinking you’re such a natural with cars, I’d think you’d wanna do something with that.”

I picked up a rag and studied my fingers as I wiped them. I’d never thought about any kind of future for myself other than the military. And that was probably just because it seemed like the only option to a guy like me. But Trace was right. I loved cars. I was halfway decent with them, too. Could I make something of that? Could I
be
something?

“You ain’t never gonna amount to nothin’, you piece of shit!” My father’s rage poured through the house like a tsunami the minute I walked through the door that night.

I slammed the door with a thud. I’d heard him spew like this before so I stuffed back my automatic angry response and tried to walk past him. Let him sleep it off.

“Hey!” Anger vibrated off him as I faced him. “I’m talking to you!”

“Go to bed, Dad.” I kept my voice low, controlled.

His red-rimmed eyes narrowed. “The school called and sent a letter. A damn letter! You’ve been skipping classes again. Probably off fucking that little whore. What if they report me to the cops for
your
slacker ways? Huh?”

Coming from the guy who could barely hold down a job anymore . . . I breathed in. Out. I would not do this now. “I’ll take care of it,” I promised, though I had no idea how I’d do that.

The bottle of whiskey in his hand went hurdling through the air and smacked the front window next to me, sailing through, sending chunks of glass flying. “You’re not gonna take care of nothin’! You’re a lazy, no good, son-of-a-bitch, just like your brother!”

Something deep and dark and tortured snapped inside of me. I stalked toward him until we were nose-to-nose. “If we’re lazy, good-for-nothing scum, we learned it from the best.”

He lunged for my throat, wrapping his bony hands around my windpipe and squeezing as he screeched obscenities. I fought him the best I could as my air began to diminish. I clutched at his hands, yanked, but in his rage, he was stronger than he looked.

We ended up rolling on the floor, crashing into the coffee table. A piece of the splintered window crunched beneath me, its jagged edge slicing into my back. I made a fist and hit any and everything I could reach, trying to get him off.

More vile curses were flying from his mouth with spittle as I landed a punch to his left eye, sending blood spurting. He howled, but kept hitting and squeezing and screaming like a man being tortured by the devil himself.

He groped around by my head and came up with a large sliver of glass from the window. He brought his arm swinging, as if to drill it through my eye, but the front door burst open, distracting him so it only grazed my temple.

“Freeze!” a familiar voice yelled. “Sheriff’s office! Drop the weapon and get up with your hands where I can see ‘em!”

I craned my neck and saw a tan Sheriff’s uniform looming in the darkened doorway.

“Now!” the voice ordered again.

I glanced back to my dad, but he didn’t look at me as he dropped the glass with a limp hand and stood.

I scrambled to my feet just as the lights came on. I squinted and my heart sank when I recognized Delilah’s father standing there, legs spread wide in an offensive stance, gun pointed at my father. Another officer was in the door just behind him and Sheriff Jackson instructed him to handcuff my dad.

I barely heard him read my dad his rights as he slapped on the cuffs and hauled him away. My dad never looked at me and all the fight seemed to have left him.

The living room was strangely quiet once they were gone, with just piles of glass, smears of blood and clutter all around me. I wiped at the drizzle of blood coming from my head and kept my eyes on the sheriff.

His stance was a bit more relaxed, but not much, as he studied me. “I was right,” he said, his voice rigid. “You’ve got nothing to offer yourself, much less my daughter.” He pivoted and walked away, not bothering to close the door behind him.

Delilah

I
felt like I was dying. Blake Travers had turned me into a terminal case of heartbreak. I’d never loved a boy like this before, and I was beginning to wonder if I ever would again.

I’d cut myself off from him, like ripping off a Band-aid. I didn’t call or text, didn’t grovel, though I wanted to. And he obviously had no desire to see me since he’d even skipped Government all week.

Rachel was great. She commiserated with me as we drove around in her new Camry Friday night. Tears pricked my eyes when P!nk came on the radio begging someone not to leave her.

“He’s an idiot,” Rachel said, glancing at me as she turned down the volume.

I swiped at my eyes. I didn’t know what to say. Somehow, I felt like the idiot. What had I missed? How could Blake pull away from me like that after all we’d shared?

“Seriously,” she continued. “Any guy’d be lucky to have you. You’re gorgeous and sweet . . .”

My tears turned to sobs. I didn’t want just
any
guy. The one I wanted had left me and didn’t want me anymore. And still, I couldn’t regret giving him my virginity. I’d always figured I’d save it for the man I loved, for my husband. But I knew the moment that Blake handed me that first cute note that he would be the one.

“All right. This is ridiculous,” Rachel ground out, obviously frustrated with me and my dreariness. “We’re going for ice cream.”

I forced a smile and agreed. There wasn’t much a scoop of Rocky Road couldn’t fix. She took the long way until we ended up at Baskin Robbins.

I followed her inside, my eyes on the glass case holding the ice cream.

“Hey.” She slapped my arm. “Isn’t that Blake’s friend? What’s his name?”

Hearing that name felt like a punch in the gut. My eyes snapped across the small parlor and met Jesse Joyner’s clear blue gaze. Memories of the night at his Christmas party rushed through me as he offered me a half-hearted wave. Blake must’ve told him we were over.

I waved back and moved for the counter. I pivoted when I realized Rachel was where I’d left her, her eyes pinned to Jesse, who was head down, devouring a banana split.

“Rachel?”

She faced me, a blush staining her ivory cheeks. “Coming.”

I flicked another glance to Jesse. I guess I could see why she was staring. He had on snug jeans, a plain white T-shirt and work boots. His baby blond hair was shaggy around his face in that casual, floppy style lots of guys wore, but he seemed to rock it better than most.

The first genuine smile I’d had in a week blossomed on my face. “Jesse.”

“Huh?”