“Tonight is about reminding you there are people who have your back and preventing you from forgetting that fact like you did for a time in high school.” Carter levels me with a You’ll do best to listen to me brow raise, and I’m nodding before I even realize I’m doing so. It’s not something we talk about openly, but I appreciate how he used his pull for me.
Still…
If it’s not BA-ers, what is going on?
Then I see Em, Q, CK, and G push through the sea of people, but it’s not them causing the commotion. No, that honor goes to the backward-hat-wearing Adonis striding up behind them.
What the fuck?
My battered heart jumps at the sight of Mason looking too damn good. A pair of dark jeans hangs from his trim hips, the waffle weave of his green Henley clings to the rippling muscles of his washboard stomach, and his distressed denim jacket and white fitted ball cap complete the look.
Though his presence is enough to have me going into a tailspin, it’s his car that set the gearheads here off.
“Em,” I hiss, grabbing her hand in a death grip and pulling her down to my level.
Beneath me, JT grunts, and I think I may have elbowed him in the junk from my jerky movements.
“What is he doing here?” I peer around her and find those seafoam green eyes still locked on me like he can see through the body bent between us. All the longing and softness in them evaporates the instant he notices I’m sitting in JT’s lap, but I’m too busy reeling from him being here to process the shift.
“Apparently”—Em chances a glance over her shoulder—“Casanova has a death wish.” I don’t miss how she’s fallen back into calling him by his old moniker.
“I’ll say,” Tessa says from somewhere behind me.
“I know you’re a King, Cart, but maybe you should channel a queen and be all Off with his head,” Savvy suggests to her brother as she too makes her way over.
“Not now, Sav,” Carter warns.
There’s a snort and my gaze snaps to the left to see Trav flanking Mason. His presence is another punch to the gut, reminding me a boyfriend isn’t the only thing I lost this weekend.
There’s more bickering, but I tune it out, too focused on Mason. The agony in my heart makes it painful to look at him.
“This is a closed party,” Carter declares.
“It’s okay, King.” I reach out, placing a hand on his knee to keep him from getting up. Mason’s eyes blaze as they lock on the touch and his nostrils flare. He can be jealous all he wants, but he lost the right to be possessive over me when he broke up with me. Besides, me controlling Carter is more for his benefit. All it would take is one tilt of his chin to set his Royals in motion.
“Why are you here, Mason?” I ask.
“I came here for you.”
Again…
What the fuck?
#Chapter11
After instructing both Trav and me to change, neither Em nor Grayson speak to us except to say to follow them. When we drive past the Welcome to Blackwell sign an hour later, I’m not surprised to see this is where Kay is. What does come as a shock is that we don’t go to her house.
Probably a good thing. I know he has a game tomorrow, but what if E came up for the weekend? *takes ball cap off and scratches head* I don’t think he would be as inclined to let you off as Grayson did—at least for now.
Real helpful, Coach, I snark back, my hand gripping the gearshift with a little more force than needed to drop into third for the turnoff.
We pull into a massive lot that’s home to two large buildings—one that looks like a garage and the other a warehouse—and dozens of sports and muscle cars, most of them in matte black paint. In the midst is a familiar candy-colored Jeep.
I follow Em’s Lexus RX to an open section to the left and park. Given how Kay reacted when she saw my 1967 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 the night of our first date, the way people swarm my car should have been expected. Same goes for the chilly reception I receive from Kay herself.
Here’s what I didn’t expect.
The simultaneous punch to my gut, balls, and heart at the sight of her. Instead of curls, her long hair hangs around her shoulders straight, the colors hidden in the strands that peeking out in the flipped ends curling around the swells of her cleavage, which is displayed by the dip in her tight t-shirt. She has a badass biker chick vibe going on in her leather jacket.
Then there’s the extra whammy of her sitting in JT’s lap.
As if I’m not reeling enough, there’s also the way Mr. Poster Bad Boy sitting in the next chair tries to act like he can make me leave.
Followed quickly by how wrong it is to see Kay’s tiny hand on him when she tries to prevent him from getting up.
“I came here for you.”
At my declaration, Kay’s beautiful stormy eyes bounce around the area surrounding the bonfire burning my back. “You shouldn’t have,” she says, no longer looking at me.
“Can we talk?” My words come out like the plea they are.
“Are you serious?” Her eyes snap to mine, a hurricane swarming in the gray depths.
“Yes.”
I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from snatching her away.
“Now? Now you want to talk?” Her arms fold defensively across her chest.
“Yes.” The word is sure even though everything inside me is fueled by uncertainty.
Kay
