Burnout (Jack 'Em Up Book 0) Page 8

  She’d given me so much more than her virginity tonight.

  She’d shown me unconditional love and I was still processing its aftermath deep in my heart.

  She shifted in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her. I pressed a kiss to her temple and extracted myself from her bed as quietly as I could. I stared down at her peaceful face, her dark lashes resting on her cheeks, her lips slightly parted in sleep.

  I glanced over as her digital clock clicked over to 3:18. Time to go. I slipped back into my clothes and grabbed my boots to carry out. Unable to resist, I placed another, longer kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too, Princess,” I whispered against her skin.

  I let myself out of her room and clicked the door closed as quietly as I could before tiptoeing down the hall. Ornately framed family photos lined the walls, but I couldn’t stop to look, though I knew Delilah would’ve been just as precious and adorable when she was little.

  The thick, luxurious carpet squished under my socked feet as I made my way to the stairs and down, feeling my way in the dark. My heart began to pound as I realized how incredibly stupid this was. I should’ve never been here. Even if it was the most incredible night of my life.

  By memory, I rounded through the living room and moved toward the kitchen. I had my hand on the door she’d let me in through when the little light over the stove clicked on. I spun around and nearly choked on my tongue when I saw her father—the Sheriff—staring at me, his eyes steely hard, his robed arms crossed across his chest.

  I blinked, not sure if I should say anything. If I should run.

  But I’d been caught red-handed. I faced him. “Sir.”

  His eyes narrowed further. “You’re Dean Travers’ kid, aren’t you?” It was obvious how he felt about that, disgust dripping from his voice like poison.

  “Um . . . yeah.” I shifted the boots still in my hand and unconsciously gripped the doorknob.

  He stepped forward, his presence menacing. “And just what are you doing in my house at three o’clock in the morning?”

  “Uh . . .” I opened my mouth to come up with something, but he put up a hand to stop me.

  “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.” He studied me a moment, his gaze assessing, angry. “My daughter doesn’t know what she’s doing. But you do. Surely, you don’t think you’re worthy of her.”

  My mouth gaped open. But he was right. Absolutely right. As much as I wanted to deny it, defend myself, I’d known it all along. I glanced away, feeling the hot sting of shame burning my eyes.

  “Go,” he said. “Get outta here. And don’t let me catch you near my daughter again or I’ll find a reason to haul your ass to jail. Do I make myself clear?”

  I met his gaze.

  “I’m serious, boy. I’ll be watching.”

  I nodded once then shoved out the door. I hated how the perfection of my night had just been murdered. I was right back to the ugliness that had eaten me up and brought me here to begin with. Only worse.

  I jogged to my car, my shoeless feet numb and freezing. I clambered in and gunned the engine. Glancing back, I saw her father watching me from the window.

  I drove away into the welcoming night, wondering how I’d survive Delilah being ripped from my life.

  I got home, and thankfully my dad had passed out in his room. His bedroom door was halfway open and his snoring ricocheted through the house.

  Silently, I made my way to my room and closed the door. I slid out of my clothes and let them fall to the floor as I plopped onto my back on the bed. I laced my fingers beneath my head and stared up at the ceiling. A million and one emotions filled my chest in a big, tangled mess.

  As much as I tried to reason my way out of it, I couldn’t find a way. Sheriff Jackson was right. I had nothing to offer his daughter. I barely skated by with my grades, I made minimum wage at the Super Lube, I was a rebel. Even if she wanted that, it was no life for Delilah. A princess deserved a prince. And I was far from it.

  As dawn crept in through my thin blinds, I was still staring at the ceiling. My gaze traced a water stain in the corner. I turned to my side and studied the photo on my dresser of me with my brother and mom. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time. Change things somehow. Maybe then, I’d have a shot at being something other than what I was.

  My phone buzzed with a text. I leaned down to the floor and rifled through my jeans to grab it. I glanced at the screen and let out a gust of breath at Delilah’s words.

  I love you

  I ignored it, not sure how to respond.

  I miss you . . . I woke up cold, she added a minute later.

  Yeah. I was cold, too. Freezing. And not from the breezy Texas morning. I turned off my phone and tossed it aside, chilled to the bone knowing I had to let her go.

  Delilah

  Something was very wrong. It had been three days since Blake and I had sex, and it was like he’d fallen off the planet. He wasn’t there when I woke up, and he hadn’t called or returned any of my texts. It was killing me.

  Had I given too much, too soon?

  Was he the callous player he was rumored to be?

  No. I knew better. He’d made love to me like I was the most precious thing in his world. How can you fake something like that?

  You couldn’t. Something else had happened. But I’d never know because he wouldn’t talk to me!

  A bright, sunny spring day dawned, with not even a cloud marring the perfectly blue sky. I was itching to see him, to get out of the house.

  My phone chirped and my heart jumped to my throat. But it was only Rachel. “Hello?”

  “Hey, girl!” came her chipper voice. “Any word from loverboy?”

  I sighed and dropped to my bed, my gaze still on my open window. I’d told Rachel the whole story the next day—I mean, who keeps something like that from their best friend? “No.”

  Her sigh sang across the line. “Well . . . maybe you scared him off by telling him you love him. Guys are slower with stuff like that, you know?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Though I wasn’t convinced. I would’ve bet my entire inheritance that he felt the same way.

  “So, what’re you gonna do today? Wanna go to the mall?”

  I cringed. “Not really.” I only wanted to be with Blake. I was a sad case.

  “Movies?”

  “No. Thanks. I think I’ll just . . .”

  “Sit and mope all day?”

  I huffed out a laugh. “Maybe.”

  “Why don’t you just go see him? Find out what’s the deal? At least then you’ll know.”

  “I don’t even know where he is,” I whined.

  “Well, I’d bet he’s working today. I saw his car outside the Super Lube.”

  “I can’t bother him at work.” Yet, I was tempted.

  “Why not? He gets a lunch break, doesn’t he? Go wait for him.”

  I stood, my gaze landing on the pillow he’d used. Where his earthy scent still clung.

  “Go!” Rachel prompted, a smile in her voice. “Then call me and tell me what happened.”

  “Okay,” I agreed before I changed my mind. “Okay.”

  We hung up and I changed clothes then ran a brush through my hair. I slipped down the stairs, thankful the house was silent. Mom had taken Danielle to some kind of cheerleading camp and Dad was working.

  With a heavy heart, I ducked into my car and took off, knowing whatever I found, it would probably change my world forever.

  Sure enough, Blake’s bright blue Camaro was parked in the Super Lube lot. I glanced at my dashboard clock . . . nearly noon. I could only hope he got a lunch break soon and I hadn’t missed my chance.

  I parked next to his car and waited.

  About twenty minutes later, I saw him stroll out of the open bay door, his head down, fatigue or sadness covering him like an aura. I took a breath and stepped outside to face him.

  He stopped short when he spotted me, his dark eyes wary.

  “Hi,” I said, forcing my voice to be brighte
r than I felt.

  He took a few steps closer. “Hey.”

  I hated that he wouldn’t hold eye contact. “Why haven’t you called?”

  He froze, his eyes closed as if in pain. Then, without a word, he opened them and kept walking until he was at his driver’s side door. He popped the locks and slid inside.

  I couldn’t believe it. Was he ignoring me?

  I lunged for the passenger door and ripped it open. “Hey!”

  “Get in,” he said, his voice tightrope thin.

  I sat heavily, suddenly realizing that he was about to break up with me. There was no other explanation for the haunted, detached look in his eyes.

  He glanced at me. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything.”

  Hurt roared through me. “Everything? For sleeping with me? For making me love you? What?”

  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

  It 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.