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Forgiving Utah

Page 74

by Bree Wiley

“Brain stuff,” I snort. “Okay.”

But she’s probably right. Two of my siblings have ADHD, there’s nothing to say I don’t too.

“Anyway,” she continues after whispering to someone, “I have to go, but I'm glad you called. Really. It was great to get this closure.”

“Riders!” Someone on the film crew calls over a megaphone. “Fog is lifting! Five minutes!”

“Yeah, same. You're doing okay, though? Seattle is good?”

I can hear the smile in her voice when she answers. “It's been amazing. I've gotten to know some really awesome people and I… I met someone.”

My throat tightens at the contentment in her voice. “I'm happy for you. He treats you right?”

“She treats me like a goddess,” Arya corrects with a giggle, and I can't help the grin that spreads on my face.

“Damn. Good for you, mi reina. Keep in touch, okay? I want to hear about your adventures.”

“I will. And you take care of yourself.”

“I'll try.”

“Oh, and Christian?” she says just before I hang up. “Don't fuck things up with Dev. He's got a lot more depth than people give him credit for. So did I.”

And with that, the line goes dead before I can even ask her to expand on that comment.

I stare down at the blank screen for a long moment, trying to process the conversation, when Taylor's voice reaches my ears.

“Christian! Come on, fucker! They're waiting on us!”

Pocketing my phone, I walk back to where he's still holding my bike in somewhat of a daze. When I take it from him and swing a leg over the seat, he taps his knuckles against my knee.

“You good, man? You look a little winded.”

I nod, looking at him through the open visor on my helmet. “Yeah, I'm good. You good?”

My best friend grins back wickedly, the familiar sight making my heart lurch. “Fuck yeah. Ready to run from some ghosts?”

Run from them, fight them… Or maybe just finally accept them for what they are?

After kicking my bike into gear, I share our ritual pre-stunt fistbump before emptying all thoughts out of my head except one:

Whatever it is I've been trying to control isn't working anymore.

And maybe some ghosts are worth chasing back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Devon

Of all the things Christian has ever asked me to do, showing up to his little sister's quinceañera uninvited might just be the cruelest.

I don't even think the asshole told anyone I was the one bringing the cake, which becomes painfully obvious the second I step through the side gate into his mom’s backyard.

The place almost looks like it's been decorated for a wedding. White tents are strung across the yard with pink and gold streamers twisting around the trees. Fairy lights adorn long folding tables stretched across the grass, covered in matching tablecloths and piles of food that make my mouth water instantly. Fuck, I'm hungry. Last time I was here, years ago on the Fourth of July, Christian’s mom fed me more food than I could eat. It’s still one of the best home-cooked meals I've ever tasted.

That was the first night I fucked around with Salem and Xed. I’d spent the evening with them under each of my arms while we watched fireworks, but my eyes had been on Christian the entire evening, wishing he'd give me some attention. Other than a few disinterested sentences between us here and there, he'd mostly ignored me for Taylor. And Taylor ignored him for Huck.

Round and round the cycle goes.