Page 81 of Crash into me

“Foster?” I question.

He shakes his head, bursting through the last door and outside into the salt drenched air. “Not yet,” he replies, hurrying us along.

We continue our trek, getting a safe distance away from the warehouse door.

“What in the fuck are you doing here?” His temperament doesn’t match the gentle way he wraps his arm around me and walks me to the car. He leans down to whisper in my ear, “I didn’t want you to see any of that. That’s not who I am.”

Wes is staying about ten steps behind us, granting a little privacy.

We pass by the opposite warehouse, and my eyes pan through the thin window, seeing cars. That’s where everyone parks. I squeeze Foster’s hand. “I know you’re just trying to protect us, and nothing happened. I didn’t see anything.”

“I don’t want you to see me as some fucking misfit from the wrong side of the tracks.” He takes my hand in his. “I want you to see me as someone who can provide for you, someone you can have a future with—”

I stop him before he can continue, “Foster, we’re in a rough patch. This isn’t your fault. It’s the fucked up people around us who are messing with our lives. We will get out of this. I will not judge a single thing you have to do to protect us.”

“Just get in,” he says with a sigh.

I fumble into the backseat. “I’m going home with you.”

“You’re going back to the dorms,” he tells me as Wes sinks into the passenger seat. With a huff, I slam my back against the soft cushion and keep my lips sealed.

But the anger radiates off me the longer we drive. I’m not stuffed into the hot trunk. With the windows down, a cool sea breeze caresses me. When we get to Wes’s, I slide into the front.

Foster doesn’t speak to me until we’re going over a long, narrow bridge. “Hand me your phone.” He juts his palm out.

When I set it in his hand, he chunks it into the deep ocean.

“Hey!”

He merely shrugs at my shriek of protest. “They tapped our phones. That’s how they knew where Sophie was and about her tooth.” He whips into a gas station parking lot, going in and soon coming back out with two burner phones.

I stare back at the phone, worry overtaking me. My mother’s voice creeps into my ears, and I want to scratch the thought out. Her telling me how Foster isn’t any good, how he’s just trouble.

But truth is, Foster’s the only one in my life who has ever protected me as fiercely as he does. I’m just exhausted, and worried, and need to communicate my fears with him.

Once he pulls into the dorms, I shift my body towards him. “Are you scared?” I ask, my lip quivering.

He cups my face with his hand. “Only of losing you.”

“What about the Keeper?”

“Nah.” He plays it cool, but I wonder if under his calm demeanor he’s nervous. “Grams and Soph are safe now, and you’re with me. That’s all that matters.”

“I’m scared,” I admit in a whisper that’s barely audible over the wind.

“I’ll get it handled.” He grips his steering wheel. “I’ll make the money back. I just need to race more.”

His phone rings, and a grin spreads across his face like all his problems are magically being solved. “Where at?” he replies, nodding when he gets an answer.

Foster gets off the phone and looks at me for a moment before he finally speaks. “There’s a hurricane …” He trails off. “They want me to race in it.”

I look out the window, at the calm night. “I haven’t heard anything about it.”

“It’s not in Orlando.”

My brow tilts. “Oh, what part of Florida?”

“Not Florida …” The moonlight illuminates his sharp jaw. “We’re going to the outer banks.”