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“The night I picked you up from jail, were you with Kav?”
“Yeah, he kind of raised me. I left home when I was twelve.”
“Oh my god, Danger. Why?”
I shrug. “Bad childhood.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I don’t expand on the subject, mainly because she would never understand. She breathes in deep and then lets it out. “I’m sorry you had a rough time, but what about your mother. She must have missed you?”
“She’s dead.”
“Danger, I’m so sorry.” She wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I let her hold me close, because I want her comfort. I crave it.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I suck in a breath, my usual answer on the tip of my tongue. ‘No, I’m over it.’ But, how could anyone ever be over it? I’m anything but over it. “When I was little, she’d bake cookies for after school. She really tried hard to be a good mom, even though she never could do the one thing a mother should do.”
“What’s that?” Monterey’s voice echoes, like she’s far away and I’m trying my best to get back to her. But the memories drown me, suffocating my existence.
“Protection.”
“Oh.”
I feel bad, I want to share more with her, but I can’t let go of the pain hidden deep inside me. And even if I did open up, what would she think of me? “Sorry, it’s just too painful to talk about.”
“I shouldn’t have pried.”
“There’s a lot about my past I don’t really like talking about.”
She holds up a hand, stopping me from saying anymore. “No, it’s ok. I get it. My mother died when I was really young.”
I meet her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Here I am droning on about my mother when you went through the same thing.”
Monterey smiles. “The thing I hate most is I can’t remember what she looked like.” Her voice is laced with sadness. I recognize it easily. “I remember the way she smelled. She always smelled like fresh cut roses. I remember her laugh.” She stops talking, staring at her hands. “I remember her hands the most. The way she would hold me close.”
“Monterey…” my words fall away, not really knowing what to say. I couldn’t imagine not remembering my own mother.
Monterey wipes a tear away from her eye. “It’s ok.”
I reach over, holding her hand in mine. “It’s never ok. I can’t remember my mother’s eyes. I know they’re brown, like mine. I have pictures. But, I have a hard time sometimes remembering her actual eyes.”
“Time is a tricky monster. It makes us forget things easily.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Is time trying to trick us? Or make the memories less painful?”
Monterey contemplates my words for a minute. “Can I ask you one question?”
“Ask away.”
“Why did your mother name you Danger?”
I turn to face her, appreciating how the moonlight cascades off her shiny brown hair. “What makes you think she did?” She’s pretty out here, late at night with no worries on her beautiful face.
She stops smiling. “Did she?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Oh, what’s your real name?”
I smile wide. “What do I get if I tell you?”
She swats me on the arm. “I’m not giving you anything.”
“No?”
Her eyes grow serious, and desire pools in them. “What do you want?”
I lean closer. I can almost breathe her in. “There’s so many things I want.” I capture her lips with mine.
She feels too good to stop kissing. I’ll admit a truth to you right now, I dig kissing this chick.
Her lips are soft, much softer than any I’ve ever felt before. There’s nothing more perfect in this moment.
I stare into her bright green eyes. “Dylan,” I whisper, not having said my real name in so many years. The last person to call me Dylan was my mom. And she’s gone now.
“I like that name.” Monterey’s smile could light the entire city. It’s really that powerful. I know another thing it could do… stop hearts.
Because I’m pretty sure mine just stopped beating there for a second.
My chest warms and I swear I can’t handle the emotions rolling through me so I do the only thing I can. I kiss her again.
And everything about my past I want to say to her falls away with the kiss. There’s so much I want to open up about, but I know I can’t.
She wasn’t raised like me.
She was raised in wealth, not filth.
We make out like teenagers who snuck out and are afraid of getting caught. I cop a feel over her shirt of each breast, and she pants short quick breaths as I do.
“Ready to get out of here?” I ask her.
She bites her bottom lip, not sure what will happen once we leave the track.
“Don’t worry,” I reassure her. “I’m not going to try anything tonight.” Even though I feel physically fine after the accident today, I don’t want to push my luck.
