Watch Me Fall (Ross Siblings, #5)(2)

“Who?” he demanded. “Whose dick you plan to suck tonight?”

She jerked the door handle, popping the door open. “Damn sure not yours.”

“Oh yeah? Fuck you, then. Get out.” He shoved her hard in her shoulder. She nearly tumbled out onto the ground, but that would’ve been fine. Anything, anywhere, by any means, as long as she was out of that car she never should’ve gotten into. Catching herself, she vaulted to her feet and had enough time to flip him off before he snatched the passenger door closed.

He made sure to return the gesture, then straightened and sped off, spraying her legs with dust and gravel. A moment later, his taillights disappeared around a curve up the road.

Good. Fucking. Riddance.

Except…shit! Her purse was still somewhere on his floorboard. Luckily, she still had her phone clutched in her hand. Raising it to her face, however, showed that the screen was cracked. She must’ve slammed it onto the ground trying to catch herself in the fall. But it wasn’t so bad she couldn’t read the text. Janelle wanted to know where she was. Unfortunately, the touchscreen was cracked badly enough that she couldn’t reply or maneuver to a point where she could call.

“Perfect,” she muttered, looking around to take stock of her situation for the first time. She was surrounded by banks of tall trees on either side, the road stretching between them to her left and her right. She couldn’t reach anyone, and Janelle was probably going to think she was dead in a ditch somewhere. Her best bet was to head back to the main road, she supposed, and walk the six long, lonely miles back to town. In the dark.

Jesus.

Maybe she’d slightly overreacted? It wouldn’t be the first time she’d let her temper get her into a messed-up situation. Most likely she and Max would’ve made it alive to the party, then she could have slipped away and called someone to pick her up.

Right. Then he could’ve discovered what she was doing, thrown a tantrum, caused a scene, accosted whoever her rescuer turned out to be, gotten several people into a fight, and she would have that weighing on her conscience. Any more weight on that particular part of her psyche, and she might buckle under the burden of it.

Sighing, she shoved her damaged phone in her pocket and trudged up the road, wishing now that she’d put her gym membership to use. Six miles. Or so. Maybe seven. Maybe someone would have mercy on her and give her a lift. Maybe that person wouldn’t be a machete-wielding maniac. But with the way her luck ran lately, nothing would surprise her.

Was this her punishment? She supposed she should shut up and take it. Stop being so damned stupid. Stop looking for salvation in every guy that came along who somehow, even fleetingly, reminded her of…

Stop. You want to stop? Then just f*cking stop. Don’t even think his name. Especially not now.

Easier said than done when she saw him on a daily basis, and every new day was an opportunity for new memories.

Fierce, furious tears stung her eyes, but she stared resolutely ahead at the dirt road, refusing to give in to them. It was terribly dark, no moon above to light her way. A security light here and there as she walked was her only illumination, along with the light from her fractured phone display. Security lights meant houses, but none that looked as if they’d be welcoming of a teary-eyed imbecile pounding on their doors in the dead of night.

She’d made her bed. She kept running around with creeps, so she’d suffer the consequences of running around with creeps. She was in love with someone she could never, ever have, someone who belonged to another, so she’d take every hurt, every sharp pebble under her shoe, every shard in her heart, and drive them all deeper if they could possibly eclipse the pain of that.

It wasn’t fair of her, and it wasn’t his fault, of course, but sometimes she could hate him for turning her into such a freaking idiot.

Starla was so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed the sound of a vehicle behind her and the brightening of the road ahead with the approaching headlights. Coming from the direction Max had gone. Oh crap, he was back. Stopping in her tracks, she looked wildly around for somewhere to duck and hide, but the foliage was so thick on either side, she dared not try it. No telling what lurked in that. Snakes, spiders… She shuddered and crossed her arms against the chilly early April night, stalking up the road with purpose now. She wouldn’t look back. She would ignore him. And if he attempted to get out and hassle her, she’d f*ck him up. A well-placed nut shot would bring any bastard to his knees if it came to that.

Still, her heart thundered and the need to run burned through her veins. As the vehicle pulled alongside her, she whirled to plow through the trees no matter what horrors might await.

“Hey,” a male voice said. Not Max. Starla turned, wide-eyed. Not a car. A pickup. A dually, actually, huge and high off the ground due to its mud-grip tires. From what she could tell, it was red. A country song drifted mournfully from the interior. What she couldn’t tell was much about its driver in the darkness, especially since he appeared to wear a cap pulled low over his eyes. “You having trouble?” he asked, and the song’s volume decreased as he turned it down.

“You could say that.” When wasn’t she having trouble?

He leaned his head out a little farther, looking back at the road he’d just traveled. “Are you broke down? I didn’t pass anything.”

“Did you by any chance meet a black Mustang?”