Page 60 of Fall onto me
Foster’s face grows stoic. “It’s me who is trapped. I don’t want you thinking for one second that you aren’t free, Skyler Johnson, because you are.”
The way he protects me is like nothing I’ve ever seen. It isn’t a smothering kind of love; he truly wants me to have the best life imaginable, and selflessly whether he’s in it or not.
“You know I’m not going anywhere.”
He wraps his arms around me, resting his palm against my ass. “I know,” he sighs with a growl. “I don’t want you going anywhere, I just want you happy.”
“I am.” I lean down to plant a kiss on his lips.
The kiss turns in to us tangled in bed an hour later, forgetting about the ghost tattoo entirely.
“So, we’re leaving from the race?”
He nods. “Yeah, after I plow through the finish line, just follow me.”
I lean down against his chest, listening to his solid heartbeat. “It’s cute that you think you’re going to win,” I tease as he brushes his inked fingers through my hair.
19
The awkward set of days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve is over, where it feels like the world relaxes for a bit and no one keeps track of time. Not like we were paying attention anyways because we spent all of it in bed, tangled in each other.
But now it’s time to get back to business.
Racing, that is.
The NYE race is the biggest in Miami. It begins at eleven fifty-five, giving the racers five minutes to get back before the ball drops. I can bet on Foster getting that time and my only goal is to meet him there for a kiss. What’s fun is we’ll be full throttle racing against each other. I have no chance of winning against him, but the thrill of it is what I’m chasing anyways.
There’s a new pep in my step today, knowing that after our race, it will all be over. TK will be a thing of the past, and I’ll be able to join in on conversations with Kate and Ryder about our futures without Foster wanting to burn the world down.
Tonight is the final meeting at the harbor. Why he couldn’t just fucking let the ties be cut the moment Foster walked out of jail, I do not know, but I think he enjoys the production of it all.
Like a puppet master who only comes out at night, reveling in the darkness and holding his hands above the city to trap his victims and force them to dance on his strings.
I hope we’re not walking into a trap.
* * *
We goto Jack’s around ten, getting fuel for our bodies before the race. Ryder throws a French fry towards Kate, and she misses it terribly.
Alea and Callum are tucked in the booth, not paying attention to anything but each other.
A text chimes on all of our phones, minus Kate and Alea. It’s the racing circuit.
Cars only.
Plans changein a split second before a race happens, and sometimes we don’t know why, but I suspect with the amount of people going tonight that they’re wanting to do a car show after we finish.
Foster frowns. “I’m sorry, babe. I know you were excited to ride.”
I plop the cherry from our milkshake into my mouth. “I’m way more excited to be in the car with you. What are we taking?”
“We’ll take my dad’s.”
“Oh, the Cuda.” Callum nods appreciatively, coming out of his longing gaze with Alea.
We pick up the sleek black muscle car from his place, and the rev of the engine rumbling the ground reminds me how powerful this piece of metal really is.
“You really don’t have to come with me after. I’ll drop you off once we win, and you can collect the tacos.” We’re going down the driveway, and Foster is staring forward with narrow, skeptical eyes. After all this time and all the things we’ve been through, it amazes me that he thinks I’ll just sit in the background and hope he comes out of it okay.