K. Bromberg - Crashed

I can feel his smile spread against my lips, and in this moment, I know he actually gets it. He actually accepts the fact that I love him and it’s such a figurative ray of light from this dark angel of mine that I grasp onto it, silently vowing to always remember how I feel right here, right now.

We may not have everything figured out, may not know what the future’s going to hold, but at least I know we’re in this race together.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling on my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

We head toward the garage area where the guys are working on the car. As we enter, Beckett shakes his head and smirks at us. I avert my gaze quickly, so very aware that every guy in the garage knows exactly what we were just doing. The walk of shame is one thing, but when you have an audience that knows you’re doing it, well … that’s a lot more embarrassing.

Colton laughs beside me and squeezes my fingers laced with his. “What’s so funny?” I mumble, still keeping my eyes trained on the ground.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he teases. “I prefer the pink parts elsewhere on you more though.”

My mouth shocks open and before I can even recover, his mouth is on mine. The clang of tools surround us and yet all I hear is the beat of my heart. The kiss is merely a tease of what we did earlier, but when he pulls back after kissing the tip of my nose, a smirk curls up one corner of his mouth.

“What was that for?” Like I even care what the answer is. He can do that to me anytime, anywhere.

“You know me, sweetheart. If they’re gonna stare, you might as well give them something good to stare at, right? Besides, if it wasn’t clear enough earlier, I want everyone in here knowing you’re mine.”

My heart swells at his words before the sarcasm is off my tongue. “Staking a claim are we?”

“Baby, claim’s already been made,” he says, stopping to look at me with a smirk. “No doubt about that.”

I roll my eyes and laugh at him as I keep walking. “C’mon, Ace,” I say over my shoulder, “can’t you keep up?”

I feel his hand smack my butt. “You sure as hell know I can keep anything up,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leaning down so his mouth is near my ear. “My dick, you pressed against the door, my stamina, and any other thing that can be considered up … but those are the most important ones, don’t you think?” He chuckles as I shake my head and make a sound of amusement.

We sort out the fact that Sammy is going to take my car home for me and then Colton leads me to a covered parking area where Sex sits. I can’t deny that the sight of the sexy-as-sin car brings back a rush of more than memorable memories that put a smirk on my face. From my locked gaze on the hood, I stare over to Colton where a lascivious grin meets mine. He raises his eyebrows, mischief dancing in his eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he opens the door for me.

“Nice choice of car today,” I tell him as I slide into the opulent interior.

“This reminds me of you, and I needed you here today,” he says before shutting my door so I can’t respond. And maybe it’s best that I can’t, because his simple statement means so very much to me.

Baby steps.

Within seconds we’re on the freeway with the sounds of the Dave Matthews Band floating around us, the purr of the motor cocooning us, and the frenzied media following us. Colton looks in the rear view mirror before looking over at me from behind his sunglasses. “You buckled in?” he asks and all of a sudden my stomach twists in knots, fearing what’s going to happen next.

I don’t even have a chance to respond before the car surges forward, the motor revving, Colton laughing as the car flies faster than the press chasing us can go. I feel a surge of adrenaline and for a split second I can understand the pull of his addiction, but then I look up as he weaves in and out of traffic, and my heart lodges in my throat as the world beyond blurs.

I square up the documents on the kitchen counter. I’m satisfied with the transcription of Zander’s deposition to bring formal charges against his father. I tuck them in the manila folder and realize I’ve lost track of time; the clock reads seven-forty and the boys have to be at the field by eight. Oh crap! I need to finish getting the stuff together for their games. I rise from the table and start filling sport bottles and putting them on the counter next to bags of sunflower seeds. I strain to hear the commotion in the bedrooms and can tell that Jackson has the boys on task and almost ready to leave.

“Hey, Ry?”

“Yeah?” I look up to see Jackson leaning his shoulder against the wall with concern in his eyes.

“Zander and Scoot are still asleep.” He pauses for a minute and then continues. “Were you awake when Shane came in last night?”

I look at him, trying to figure out why he’s asking. “Yes. I was reading in my room. Why?”

“Did you physically see him? Talk to him?”

Now alarm bells sound in my head, and I stop what I’m doing and turn to face him. “Uh-uh. I called out his name and he said goodnight and went to his room. You’re scaring me, Jax, what’s going on?”

“Well, it looks like Shane tied one on last night. He’s passed out in his bed, his room reeks of beer, and by the looks of the bathroom he was reliving the night backwards into the toilet.” He has a half-smirk on his face, and I know it’s not appropriate but I have to stifle a laugh that Shane did something so normal for his age.

And then the responsible part of me takes over. I bite my lip and look at Jax. “We knew this would happen someday … shit, do you want me to deal with him or do you want to?”

“We’ll be out in the van, Jax!” Ricky yells.

“Kay!” he responds before looking back to me. “I can stay here with Zand, Scoot, and Shane if you want to take baseball today?”

“No, that’s cool,” I tell him as he grabs the bottles. “We’ll meet you at the field later to watch the games. I can handle Shane.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Jax says goodbye and as he closes the door I don’t feel so sure anymore. I sit down on one of the barstools and contemplate how exactly to handle a hungover sixteen year old. He’s the oldest and the first of the lot to go through this, so I’m kind of lost. Of course I was too scared to drink in high school—always the consummate good girl—so I’m on foreign ground here.

My phone rings and I look down, a smile immediately lights up my face when I see it’s Colton. “Good morning,” I say as warmth fills my heart. The past few days have been good between us despite the underlying tension we’ve blatantly been ignoring over the impending paternity test results. Colton’s been excited that he’ll be returning to the office next week, wanting to be there to oversee the new adjustments to the safety device they’re working on. I laughed and told him I thought it was funny that he’d returned to the track before the office, but he just said with a smirk that the track was a necessity and the office not so much.

“Hey … this bed is awfully lonely without you in it.” His sleepy morning rasp pulls at me and his words seduce me when I have no business being seduced.

“Believe me, I’d much rather be there with you—”

“Then get here as quick as you can, baby, because time’s wasting. I have a long list of things to do today,” he says, humor edging the suggestive tone of his voice. And I love this about him—about us—that just his voice can help ease the stress of my morning.

“What is it you have to do today?”

“You on the couch, you on the counter, you against the wall, you just about any place imaginable …” His voice drifts off as the parts of my body still asleep suddenly snap awake.

I groan into the phone. “You have no idea how tempting that sounds because today’s already turned to shit.”

“Why? What happened?” he asks concerned.

“Shane had his first experience with alcohol and from what Jax says, it doesn’t sound like it was a good one.”

Colton belts out a laugh. “He got shit-faced? Attaboy, Shane!”

“Colton! I’m trying to raise respectable boys here!” And the minute the words are out of my mouth I realize what an old-fashioned prude I sound like, but it’s true.

“Are you telling me I’m not respectable, Ryles?”

I smirk because I can picture the impish grin on his face right now. “Well, you do in fact do dirty things to me …” I tease, my body tensing and the ache in my lower belly pulsing at the thought of our last little sexcapade on the stairs of the Malibu house the day before last.

His chuckle is seductive yet naughty. “Oh, baby, dirtying you up is what I do best, but I’m talking about everyone else. I got drunk with the best of them in high school, and I turned out all right.”

“That’s debatable,” I tease. “So you’re saying it’s no big deal? To let him off the hook without any repercussions?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think it’s a good sign that he’s out being a typical sixteen-year-old kid. Not that it’s good or bad, just typical. And as long as it’s a one time deal—that he’s not drinking to escape his past—then good for him.”

In a sense I agree with Colton, but at the same time I know I need to address it with Shane, need to tell him it’s not okay and it can’t happen again, even though I know it will. “So how, man-that-used-to-be-a-reckless-teenager, should I handle this best?”

“I’m still reckless, Ry,” he says with amusement in his voice. “That, my dear, will never change. Jax needs to deal with him because he’s not going to listen to you.”

“I beg to differ.” I don’t want the boys to not want to talk to me or listen to me because I’m one of the few female counselors in the house.