Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(50)
She had tears in her eyes when she handed me the keys, asking me if I was sure about it for the dozenth time. Each time, I nodded coldly, refusing to entertain any second guesses as I climbed into the driver's seat.
The amazing car must've cost at least a hundred grand with all its custom features. A little less than half of what I needed from my trust fund. But if I could get Dad to open it once, then it wouldn't take much to squeeze a little more out.
I knew my grandparents left me at least a couple million. Paying for tuition out of it had barely depleted anything when I'd snuck peeks at the statements. Everything I'd need to live a sheltered, pampered life for the rest of my days – the life I didn't want with Skin.
He'd shown me something different, and he was worth the risk. I was ready to throw it all away, anything to help him, whatever it took to get me face to face with the only man on the planet who'd made me feel whole.
And I did.
When I saw the big oak tree near the pond, I lined up the car. My foot pounded the accelerator and refused to let up. I'd barely had ten minutes to get used to it on the streets, and now the speed floored me.
I never saw what happened to the front of the car. The airbags deployed a split second before I blacked out and the entire world started spinning.
In my fragmented daze, I saw Skin, beautiful Skin. I pressed my lips to the scar lining his cheek and dug my nails into his back. I kissed him long and hard, waiting to be reunited, aching for him through the flashes of sirens and voices and then the soft murmur of a doctor standing over me.
His lips moved across mine, reminding me of everything I'd missed, and why. These lips made me ache. These lips teased and commanded. These lips were the only ones I wanted to think about kissing for the rest of my life, even if they turned my whole world upside down one more time.
Even if they made me crazy. Even if they killed me.
I love you, Skin. I really do. Call me insane, delirious, or damaged, but it's true.
I imagined saying those words and looking into his deep, dark eyes. A smile tugged at his rogue lips, but before he could say anything, the black wave behind him crashed over us, pulling me into nothing.
I woke up the next day with a terrible headache, but no worse for wear. Daddy stood over my bed with a mortified look on his face. An elderly doctor came in and said a few words, told me I ought to thank my lucky stars that I hadn't broken anything.
The accident only left a small bruise on my collarbone and some sore muscles, besides the pounding headache.
Dad's concern overpowered everything at first. He sat with me quietly for the next couple hours, through one more scan, until they decided I was good to go.
He waited until we were in his car to open up on me.
“Start packing your bags when we get home, dear. Your mother and I have decided you're beyond our help. We've been patient – too patient, I fear. No more.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he shushed me with a finger to his lips. “Don't, baby. You're messed up and it's not your fault, I get that. I'd be a devil for expecting you to be any other way after you suffered with those demons. But I can't sit by while the police are knocking on my office door every other damned day and my only daughter's trying to kill herself! Becky told us what happened.”
For the first time, fear stabbed at my heart.
“She did?” I swallowed, balling my fists so tight it hurt, praying my best friend hadn't betrayed me.
“Yes, and I hope you're very thankful for wonderful friends like her. She said she forgives you for hijacking her car. The poor thing barely drove it off the dealer's lot a month ago, you know. I'm not going to drag you on a guilt trip, Megan, but we're all lucky she's decided to turn the other cheek without pressing charges.”
I let out a long sigh of relief. Jesus. She'd saved me, sticking to the alibi we carefully concocted in the cafe, before I dropped her at the gas station and took the hot pink Camaro on its last fateful ride.
“Okay, whatever you say, Dad. Let's set something up. I'll spend a week at the spa talking to whatever shrinks you want me to. I'll tell them everything. I won't come back until I'm fixed.”
He looked at me, his eyes softening. “I'm glad to hear you say that.”
We shared a soft, understanding look. The last one I allowed before I let the pain rip me in two. My face contorted so hard it hurt. I barely had my palms over my eyes before the hot, poison tears streamed out in waves.
“Oh, honey. No, no, no, it's going to be okay,” Daddy said, bringing a hand to my shoulder. “What is it? You're scared?”
I shook my head, voice cracking through the tears. The hurt was all authentic, a little slice of everything I'd suffered over the last year, but I was using it strategically for the next step in my plan.
There'd be time to feel guilty about that later. Right now, I needed the money, and I absolutely had to see Skin.
“No, Daddy. It's not that. I just can't believe I wrecked her car!” I looked up and grabbed his arm. “Stop with the sympathy. I'm tired of everyone treating me like a wounded pet since I came home. You saw what I did – I went crazy. I lashed out. I completely f*cking ruined my best friend's car, and she's going to hate me forever!”
Cue more shrill blubbering. The f-bomb caught him by surprise too. I watched Dad struggle for composure for the next few miles up to our house.