Loving Me, Trusting You (29 page)

We ride for a long time in the quiet dark, my arms wrapped around Gaine, my injured friends bandaged up as best we can and draped on the backs of other riders. My own trashed ride is lying abandoned in a dumpster. The second one in as many weeks. If I keep going through motorcycles like this, I'm going to end up permanently glued to my … I pause.
Ay, Dios mio.
I have no idea what to call Gaine. Boyfriend isn't right, never was. He's more than that now. I can finally admit it, even if it's grudgingly. I press myself close and revel in the warmth of him, of knowing I have someone I can count on.
Finally.
I sigh and let myself drift away, past the old nightmares, past the new ones, and into a place where I just am, where I'm resting in the moment, not caring what happened in the past or what will happen in the future.

I have myself, and I have Gaine.

For now, that's all I need. Well, that a new ride, but that'll come eventually. I'm not worried about it.

As we move across the earth like a stampede, carving our names into the wind and grinding the dust with our wheels, I feel Gaine's body start to tighten, like he's anticipating doing something dangerous. Again. Since I have no fucking clue what that could be, I wait, expecting the worse. After all, life hasn't exactly been good to me. It's in my nature to see the glass half empty. So you can imagine that when he pulls off on an exit without so much as a word to anyone, I'm a bit surprised.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Beck asks, voice crackling through the intercom. I know it's only a matter of time before Austin turns the caravan around and chases after us the way I used to wish he had before. But not anymore. I feel things for Gaine that I never felt for him. Besides, even if I did love him, I couldn't separate him and Amy, not anymore. If any two people were meant for each other, they were.
And you and Gaine?
Please, I'm not quite ready for that lovey-dovey crap yet. Love's complex. It's not easily dissected or understood. One day, I'll get it. For now, all I'm willing to do is accept it with pursed lips and an eye roll or two.

Gaine doesn't answer, not until we're pulling into a parking lot and he's lifting off his helmet like he's coming up for air, swinging his leg over the bike and turning to face me full on. The smell of salt tickles my nostrils and promises that the ocean isn't far off. I could use a vacation, we all could. I narrow my gaze on the man that's managed to touch my heart, to cut through the rusted chains and splay his fingers wide on that blackened bit inside of me. Slowly, very slowly, it starts to pump.

Sweat pours down Gaine's face and neck before soaking into the black fabric of his shirt. In the distance, the rumble of motorcycles sounds like the world's finest music. I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.

“Sawyer,” he begins, swiping a hand across his forehead. A droplet of moisture pools invitingly on his lips as I yank off my helmet and hold it under my arm. His dark eyes reflect the stars and keep my gaze locked on his. I start to shake, and I don't know why. Before he even gets out another word, I'm in tears. Rough thumbs brush the liquid from my cheeks as he presses his forehead to mine, takes in a deep breath and says words I never thought I'd hear again, that I never wanted to hear. “Will you marry me?”

“Marry you?” The words catch in my throat and leave me speechless. I was trying to sound pissed off, but it came out more breathy than anything else. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I can barely whisper past the lump in my throat, my eyes lifting up to the bright sign above our heads. A quickie marriage on the fly doesn't sound like the most romantic thing in the world, but in that moment, on the road, on the run, with Gaine by my side, it is. Somehow, it really is.

From his pocket, he pulls out a ring. It's wrapped in tissue paper and rusty as hell, but the red jewel in the center shimmers with secrets.

“I got it a long, long time ago,” he tells me, voice soft, catching a ride to my ears on the gentle breeze that salts the air and stings the eyes. I wipe the liquid from my face and try to stay still. My hands shake, but I pretend not to notice and so does he. “When I first told you I loved you. I bought it then, and I've been cartin' it around ever since. It's a little worse for wear, but I couldn't think of anything else worthy enough to take its place.” Gaine reaches out and takes my hand, and I let him. He uncurls my fingers with his and sets the ring down gently, like it's worth a million bucks.

I stare at it for a long while, listening as the group gets closer, moving in towards us in a drone of revving bikes and howling spirits. I think of Tray, but only briefly, just enough to know that this is different, that Gaine and I are meant to be in ways he and I never were.

I should think long and hard about this. Lord knows
mi abuela
is probably spinning in her grave now, clucking her tongue at me and telling me that no man is worth it. But this one is. This one is more than just a man. This is Gaine Kelley, and I'm in love with him.

“I love you.” The words burst from my mouth before I can stop them, before I can overanalyze my feelings and come up with something different to say, something bitter, something that isn't half as truthful. I've fucking fallen for him, after all this time. Or maybe I've been in love all along and never knew it? Whatever the case, his hands find my hips and lift me up, knocking the helmet to the ground where it clatters in the silent, still air. His lips find mine and we kiss a kiss that can never be topped, that tastes like self-discovery and fresh beginnings. It isn't sour, doesn't reek of old, and best of all, it means something. No, not something,
everything.

“I love you, too,” he says before sealing the deal with a sizzling tangle of tongues and hands that rove too much for this wide open parking lot. I push back with a gasp and look him in eyes that sparkle. “I sure as shit hope that's a yes,” he whispers against my lips, dark hair teased by the breeze, body hot as coals against mine. “Because if it's not, I'm going to look like the world's biggest fucking asshole when the rest of Triple M shows up.”

I think for another second, just one more second to be sure, but I don't need even that. My heart is beating now, climbing faster and faster with each passing second. Warm blood flows through my veins and heats up my thighs, teases my nipples, warms my chest. I'm ready for the road, for the future, and I'm finally fucking ready for Gaine Goddamn Kelley.

“Yes.” That's all I have to say, and that's enough. He knows. He smiles; I smile.

By the time our MC pulls into the parking lot, we've already said
I do.

If you enjoyed this, try the
Never say Never
Series
.

Excerpt Included!

1

Rick is a perfectly nice guy.

But not for me.

Rick is the kind of guy you can take home to your family, show off, and know that at the end of the day, he'll be there for you. I'm not into guys like Rick. I should be, but I'm not. I think there's something wrong with me. I need a guy like Rick to put me on the straight and narrow, to help me stop doing the things I shouldn't be doing and start doing the things I should.

Right now, my back is to a wall and I'm kissing the neck of a guy I don't know. My therapist says it's because I have 'daddy' issues. Like that's supposed to mean something to me. How can I have daddy issues when I barely knew the prick? He didn't walk out on me and mom like my therapist thinks. She thinks that because I've never told her the truth. My dad died right in front of my eyes, called out my name seconds before the light went out of his face and left him cold. That's all I remember about him. Other than that, my mind is a blank, a series of shadowy pictures without words. They don't make any fucking sense.

The guy I'm kissing unbuttons his pants. I think about telling him to use a condom, but I just don't feel like it. I'm on the pill anyway. He thrusts into me while I'm watching Rick through a crack in the door. He's drinking punch, not alcohol, and smiling with big, wide teeth in a face that's handsome, but not too handsome. Rick's the kind of guy that your friends compliment you on, tell you he's gorgeous, but they never try to sleep with him. The ones they really want, the dangerous ones, the ones with pasts that burn like fire and melt everything around them … Those are the guys that I always seem to fall for. The one I'm having sex with right now is one of those. I don't even know his name.

“I love you,” the guy says over and over, and I roll my eyes. I've heard it before, a hundred times, and I just don't want to hear it anymore. I pretend to have an orgasm, moaning and groaning and scratching his back, and all the while, I'm watching Rick. We have a date tomorrow night that I think I'm going to cancel. I thought maybe I'd take Rick out, see how chivalrous he really was, but tonight, he's wearing khaki pants and a red sweater. I don't date guys like Rick.

The guy I'm fucking finishes and tells me how great I am. Then he disappears and I don't see him again, not that night or any other. I light a cigarette and leave the room before any of the drunken idiots at the party stumble in and find me there with my panties around my ankles. I step out of them and stuff them in my pocket, aware that my skirt is too short and that my ass is hanging out. I just can't seem to find it in myself to care.

“Hey,” Rick says, intercepting me before I can reach the front door. “We still on for tomorrow night?” He looks me up and down, and I can see that he's curious about my disheveled appearance, my mussy hair and my swollen lips, but he doesn't ask about it. I don't think he even gives it a second thought. Rick doesn't know that girls like me exist. He's heard about them on TV, maybe even masturbates to them, but he doesn't really believe that they exist in this world or any other. I really should keep my date with Rick, go out with him, and grow up.

“I can't,” I say, biting my lip seductively and touching his cashmere sweater with a shaking hand. I don't know why it's shaking, but I don't like it, so I pull it back and let it fall to my side. I blow cigarette smoke in Rick's face which is rude, but that I do anyway. There's a monster inside of me, eating little bits of me everyday, and I can't seem to stop it. It makes me do things I don't want to do, say things I don't want to say. It makes me tell Rick that I've got to study for a test that he really believes I have.

I kiss him on the lips and leave an orange-red stain before I walk out the door and down the front steps. People wave at me as I go by and say they'll see me around, but I don't really know who any of them are, so I avoid their stares and their friendly smiles. It's all fake, just a big load of shit that I can't buy into or I'll die. If I ever believe in something again, and it turns out to be false, then not only will my body crumble beneath me, but so will my soul. I'll disintegrate, disappear into the wind and blow away. I'll be nothing. I'll blank out and the energy of who I was will just go away, melt into the ground and come back as something unimportant, like a dandelion or a caterpillar. I can't find it in my heart to care.

I walk back to the dorms because I don't have a car. My roommate isn't home which doesn't surprise me. She's in love with another girl, one that's straight as an arrow. They have sleepovers in her dorm room and 'practice' kissing one another like they're in high school or something. That's fine with me because it means I have the room all to myself, gives me a chance to be alone. I feel most comfortable that way. When you're alone, there's nobody there to hurt you or let you down. It feels too good to have that guarantee of solitude.

I fall on my back on the bed and try to breathe through the tears that come to me unbidden. I don't want them, never asked for them. I couldn't even tell you what I was crying over or why. I just do. Every night, I lay here and I try to find something in myself to live for. Every night, I fail and wonder if I need a guy like Rick to show me the way. But then, I'm a big girl, and a feminist, too, so why do I think a guy could save my soul?

I never thought to wonder if I was looking at it the wrong way, if maybe it wasn't a guy that I was looking for, just a person. And maybe I didn't need them to save my soul, just to give me the other half of it. Maybe that was it?

2

The next morning I wake up and have to force myself out of bed. It's a weekend which makes things so much worse. On days when I have class, I have a purpose, an obligation that I have to fulfill. On weekends, I just wait around for something to happen. Today, my roommate comes home early looking happier than usual. I wonder if she scored with the other chick, but I hope not. If so, then she's setting herself up for failure because that girl, whose name I don't know, is the type that grows up and looks for a guy like Rick. They get married and have babies and think they're happy because that's what people like Rick and this other girl do. They think they're happy because they don't know any better. I do. Not because I know what it's like to be happy, but because I know what it's like to be miserable. If you live your whole life in the darkness, then you don't have any trouble recognizing the light.