My arms rested on the back of the couch, otherwise she would’ve seen my fists ball up.

As much as I was trying to not care, Madoc, K.C., and everyone else for that matter kept reminding me that Tate was moving on with her life.

“I don’t care who does what, K.C,” I stated without any emotion.

She looked at me for a few seconds, while I stared ahead.

“Do me a favor?” she asked, smoothing her hands down her faded jeans. “Play along with this through the race for me? Liam is going up against Madoc, and I just—”

“Yeah,” I cut her off, knowing exactly what she needed. “You got it.”

If she wanted to make Liam jealous, then I could help. It wasn’t a very honorable cause, but it was fun.

“Movie?” I suggested, trying to change the subject.

“Sure. Do you like dance movies?”

And I almost kicked her out of my house right then and there.

Thick rain poured down outside, and the air felt dense with energy. I gave K.C. a sweatshirt to cover her head when she left around midnight, and then I locked up the house and jogged upstairs to my room.

For the first time in years, I wanted in that tree.

Tate and I used to climb in and sit in it during storms—or anytime, really. I hadn’t seen her in the tree for years, though.

Sliding up the window, I poked my head out into the wind and the rain and immediately froze.

Hell.

Tate was in the tree.

My fingers clenched the windowsill.

The first thing that came to mind was an angel. Her hair flowing and shiny. Her legs dangling, long and smooth. She looked perfect where she was, like a painting.

And then I remembered that Satan was also an angel.

You’re a miserable piece of shit, Jared. Her words today had cut me more than I wanted to admit.

“Sitting in a tree during a thunderstorm?” I taunted her. “You’re some kind of genius.” She popped her head up and twisted around to face me.

The look in her eyes—that I could see, anyway—wasn’t angry the way it usually was with me. She wouldn’t look at me completely. No, her eyes were guarded and a little sad.

“I like to think so, yes,” she said, facing away from me again.

Her demeanor had me puzzled. She wasn’t timid, but she wasn’t engaging, either. Did she feel bad about what she said to me today?

Well, I didn’t need her pity. I wanted her f**king anger.

Don’t feel sorry for me.

I wanted her to sit there and own what she did. Don’t apologize and don’t shy away. Get mad at me, Tate.

“Tree? Lightning? Ring any bells?” I continued to antagonize her. I knew there was some danger sitting in a tree during a lightning storm, but it’s nothing we hadn’t done a hundred times when we were kids.

“It never mattered to you before,” she spoke up, emotion gone from her voice as she looked out to our glistening street.

“What? You sitting in a tree during a storm?”

“No, me getting hurt,” she shot back and shut me up.

Damn her.

Every f**king muscle in my body tightened, and I wanted to shake her and yell, “Yeah, I don’t f**king care if anything bad ever happens to you!”

But I couldn’t.

I did care—goddammit—and I wanted to punch a wall because of it. Why the hell did I care about anything she did? Who she dated? Who she screwed?

But then, I guess I’d be miserable, too, if my parents hated me.

Her words spread like tentacles through my brain, sucking the life out of everything good I’d ever thought about her. Every memory.

I had to cut her out of my heart and my head.

“Tatum?” I almost hesitated but forced out the rest. “I wouldn’t care if you were alive or dead.”

And I turned my back on her and finally just walked away.

Chapter 18

K.C. came huffing over to my table again for lunch the next day. She wouldn’t talk about it, and I wouldn’t ask, but I assumed it was about either Tate or Liam.

Liam, I couldn’t care less about. Tate, I tried to care less about.

“So I just got a text from Zack.” Madoc came up and swung a chair around to straddle it backwards. “Derek Roman will be back in town for the weekend. He wants to race you on Friday night.”

I groaned inwardly, not because I thought I would lose, but because Roman was a huge bucket of dick.

Yeah, what I did to Tate the last few years, this guy did times ten to half of the school when he went here. I might win, or I might lose, but getting my car to finish without a scratch would be a miracle.

I shrugged. “Fine. It’ll be a close race, so the odds will pay off big.”

And I needed the money. My father was pinching me for cash every week, and it wasn’t pocket change. He was smart, though. He wanted money but never got too greedy. Enough to make it hurt me but not enough that I wouldn’t be able to deliver.

“You’re racing Liam, right?” K.C. asked Madoc.

He looked at her across the table and smirked. “I don’t know if we’d call it racing. More like a castration.”

“Just be careful, okay?” She looked concerned.

Really?

Madoc leaned his chest forward into the back of his chair. “K.C.?” His voice was low and husky. “I’m picturing you na**d right now.”

And I couldn’t help it. The snort came out, and my chest exploded with laughter, as I buried my forehead into my hand.