Are you ticklish, Double-D?
By the time I’m done with the story, I’m no longer crying. My breathing is normal, and my rage is under control. I’ve given the power to someone I trust, and he’s struggling with it, his hands gripping the steering wheel as if wringing someone’s neck.
“You promised you wouldn’t say anything,” I repeat.
“I did, and I won’t.” His voice is hoarse, that familiar anger I’ve felt so often brewing in his throat.
“We don’t have to go in. We can just stay here, in the truck. Or somewhere else—”
“I don’t know how you could stand to see him . . . any of them? Hollis, I don’t know how you can do this. I’m not strong enough.” He shakes his head in disbelief of it all.
“You don’t have to be strong enough. I do.” It’s a simple fact, something I learned young and live every time I play the game I love.
His eyes close and his nostrils flare for a few deep breaths, a move I also recognize.
“You don’t have to be nice to him,” I relent, a give that makes him smile slightly on one side. I figured he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut with Zack, but it’s everyone else who I don’t want involved. Mostly, I don’t want this to be my dad’s obligation. Not again, however wrong that is for me to think.
Cannon glances up to his rearview mirror, scanning the lot for several quiet seconds, then finally cranks the key and shifts his focus to me.
“You sure you still want to be here?”
I contemplate my choices. I can go into that bowling alley and be with my friends and have a great night with a guy I’m falling for more every second he blinks, or I could let Zack win. I could go back home and sulk about all the things I’m missing out on. I could think about what happened today and how I reacted. I could replay it and think of all the ways it’s coming at me again.
“I choose to live my life, and I want to be here with you. If Zack wants to go home, he’s more than welcome.”
I’m committed. Clearly, so is Cannon.
His eyes harden on his rearview mirror as he shifts into reverse. We fly backward in a straight line, and I test the tautness of my seat belt just in case.
“Hold on,” Cannon says, and I should probably be afraid and tell him to slow down. Those words don’t leave my lips, though, because I know exactly what comes next. And though I didn’t ask for it, I want to let it happen.
I’m going to let it happen.
It’s probably wrong.
I don’t care.
We’re maybe going twenty-five, tops, on impact. It’s enough to completely crumple Zack’s trunk and tear the bumper from his car. Cannon pulls forward just as quickly as he smashed into his cousin’s car and whips around the parking lot, eyes scanning for witnesses. He finally comes to a stop in a spot near the front of the alley, close to the door—dozens of spots from the scene of the crime.
Is it a crime when it’s family?
“I think I can keep my mouth shut now,” he says.
A slow grin creeps into my cheeks. I unbuckle and lunge at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and shoulders and kissing him so hard he laughs a little at the force of it. Within seconds, he’s kissing back, cradling me over the center console and running his fingers through what in my mind are the most awesome beachy waves.
“Thank you,” I say when we break away. I make the awkward crawl back to my side of the truck, but before I step out, Cannon flips up the center console into the seatback, making a smooth bridge between us for the ride home.
“Huh. So, you’re saying I could have done that, like, a while ago?” I quirk a brow, my energy still buzzing with adrenaline. I feel like a justified delinquent, and it feels amazing.
“I like watching you climb over the center.” He shrugs, not one bit ashamed.
I hold on to that beautiful blue gaze while I slide the rest of the way out of the truck and close the door on his stare. We meet at the front of his truck, wearing matching smirks reserved for people who share epic secrets. Cannon slings his arm around me and holds his key fob up over his other shoulder, beeping his truck locked as we make our way inside the alley.
“Don’t you want to check the damage to your truck?” I ask.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
I believe every word.
19
Cannon
I want to punch him. His car is barely drivable, but that’s not enough. I want to rip his perfectly combed hair from the roots of his scalp and feed him the clumps. He’s a disgrace to our family, to our name, and I’m not going to let him get away with this.
I won’t break Hollis’s trust. I won’t go to her father. But I am going to tell someone. And if this goes down the way it should, none of this will touch any of them and justice will get served. It’s going to require some faith from me, though. And the things my father told me will need to be true.
Tory’s the first to see us walk in, and his arrogant grin brings me out of my angry euphoria enough to interact with humans like something other than a Neanderthal.
“Look at you heeding my advice,” he says, grabbing my hand and bringing me in for a bro-hug. Hollis slips into a seat between Lola and June, who
