Nowhere But Here (Thunder Road #1)(60)

“They’re good girls,” I say. “You know where I stand on that.”

They’re honor roll, panic about curfew and are on time for church every Sunday morning. I don’t have a problem with good girls. To be honest, I’m hoping I can find a good girl with a bad side to marry me one day, but this isn’t one day and right now the only thing that happens with a good girl is they get hurt because they’re hunting for what I won’t give.

Chevy flashes a sly smile. “They came to me, man. Not the other way around. Both of them are leaving town next week to travel Europe before they head out of state for college. They said they’ve watched the Terror their entire lives and want to experience one night with us before they leave town.”

Because there’s an invisible force field surrounding Snowflake. Once people leave, they never come back.

“Sometimes a good girl needs to be bad,” Chevy continues.

Right as he says it, the blonde smiles in a way that promises a night that has my type of bad written all over it. “Gotta check with Eli.”

“It’s all I’m asking.” Chevy blows the whistle to indicate the time-out is over.

Emily

OZ JOGS ALONGSIDE a young boy who doesn’t run right. He doesn’t walk right, either. At least he didn’t when he moved onto the field. His legs are in braces and he spent most of the game on the sidelines in a wheelchair.

That is until the game ended and Oz immediately lowered himself to the boy’s eye level and tossed him the football. Oz talked with the boy and then to his parents. Minutes later, both teams met at the line of scrimmage with Oz and Chevy shouting instructions.

The ball was handed off to this boy and now the crowd is yelling and cheering and my pulse pounds. Oz is jogging backward now, encouraging him to continue forward. Both teams sprint alongside Oz and the boy. All of them calling the boy’s name. The kid is pumping his little arms, pushing legs that seem to weigh against him, but he has this utter look of joy that brings tears to my eyes.

I’m on my knees on the blanket, clapping and praying and begging for him not to fall. To finish and to finish strong.

He crosses the line and the sideline explodes into a deafening sound of happiness. My arms are in the air and I’m laughing. Laughing because the kid is laughing. Laughing because Oz is laughing.

Oz picks the boy up and all the kids applaud. Chevy comes up on the other side so that they both carry his weight. Chevy, Oz and the massive crowd of kids begin a victory lap.

“He’s good with kids.” Eli crouches next to me.

“What?” It’s like he started in the middle of the conversation instead of the beginning.

“Oz is good with kids. Always has been.” He gestures to the wheelchair a little farther down. “Especially the ones with disabilities. He has a patience and gentleness most men don’t. That’s why Brian’s parents are here. Oz includes him in the game.”

Brian must be the child with the braces.

“What’s wrong with Brian?” I ask.

“Cerebral palsy.”

“Oh.” Oh.

“How’s it been?” Eli asks.

“Good.” I watch the party on the field, wishing that I was part of the celebration. “How was your business stuff?”

“Good,” he answers.

Eli’s been gone for two weeks and it’s odd seeing him, but it shouldn’t be. This is his hometown, not mine. I’ve settled into a weird but comfortable routine with Oz and Olivia and have even gotten used to Eli texting me to confirm I haven’t dashed back to Florida yet.

In the parking lot a herd of guys in black leather vests hang out near a gaggle of motorcycles. “Do you ever travel alone?”

“Yeah,” he says. “But you and I have a shopping date and I’ll feel better doing it with some backup. What do you think of heading to Nashville and letting me buy you some clothes that don’t encourage me to tear the eyes out of every man here?”

I laugh and it surprises me. By the way Eli’s grin grows it must have surprised him, as well. I pick at the grass in front of me. “Isn’t Louisville closer?”

“Nashville’s a hell of a town. There’s a bar on the strip that serves a great pulled pork sandwich.”

I detest pork, but Eli means well so I keep my food preferences to myself. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I get that when you visit Florida shopping is a way to fill the time together, but I’m here so you don’t have to spend money on me.”

Eli pulls at his earlobe. “I haven’t been much of a man in your life and taking you shopping doesn’t make up for not being there, but I want to do this for you.”

As I sort through the grass, I spot some clover and pretend I’m interested in it. I don’t know what to say or do. Eli entered my life seven years ago and never has he said anything so real and raw. It freaks me out and creates an ache I don’t understand.

Why couldn’t he have said that seven years ago? Or maybe seventeen years ago or whenever my mom was on the verge of leaving?

“Hate to admit it, but I’ve spent a good portion of your life wondering what to buy you for Christmas or your birthday, but I never get you anything because I don’t know you well enough to purchase anything that would mean shit. So this, taking you shopping, it’s all I have to give and I’d appreciate it if you’d let me do it.”