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“Fuck you, Seth.”
He grins widely. “Who’s doing the sexual harassing now?”
“Jesus.” I grab my jacket. “Let’s go, shall we?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Seth makes a show of linking our arms together, and I’d punch him if not for the fact I’m scared of injuring him. One of his shoulders was dislocated so many times it may need surgery if hurt again, and I can’t even remember how many bones he has broken over the past year.
So I endure, and let him drag me out to my pickup truck, an old, rusty Chevy. We climb inside and head off to Halo. He hums to himself, tapping a rhythm on his leg, a serious expression on his face, and I accelerate, hoping to reach our destination before he asks me whatever it is that’s been on his mind.
“Look,” Seth says, and I know it’s too fucking late, the interrogation is about to start, “I know it’s none of my fucking business, but—”
Something slams into us from behind, throwing us forward in our seatbelts. The wheel jerks under my hands, and I struggle to control it.
“Oh fuck.” Seth groans, gripping the dashboard. “Not again.”
But I end up straightening the car, and nobody’s hurt, although Seth’s face is white as a sheet. Thankfully the street in front of us is empty, but by the time I manage to park the pickup at the curb and glance in the side mirrors, whoever slammed into us is long gone.
***
“Someone rammed you from behind? Are you fucking kidding me?” Micah glances from me to Seth and back, eyes wide, and his grin turns into a grimace. “You’re not kidding me, are you? Jesus Christ.”
We head inside Halo, and I’m glad when Micah slings an arm around Seth’s shoulders, because the guy is still kinda shaky. After everything that went down this past year, it’s no wonder. He seems to draw violence and accidents to him like a flame does to moths.
“Are you guys okay?” Micah says and lifts his other hand to wave at someone. Shane approaches, a dark frown on his face, Cassie by his side.
“What the fuck’s going on here?” he demands. “What happened?”
“Just an accident,” I mutter, “and we’re fi—”
“Is Seth okay?”
“Seth!” A slight, dark-haired girl dives on Seth, hugging him tightly, forcing Micah to let him go. That’d be his girlfriend, Manon. “What happened? Did you hurt yourself? Are you all right?”
Amused, I watch as she proceeds to check him from head to toe even as he protests he’s fine.
Amused and somewhat wistful. Can’t remember the last time a woman cared about how I am, last time a woman was worried about me. Mom sure as hell never did.
Dammit. Why am I thinking of this now? I turn away, trying to compose myself. What’s this strange weight on my chest? Don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me these days.
Tired, I tell myself again. Just tired. For too many damn reasons to count.
“Did you check the damage to your truck?” Micah asks, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s talking to me. “How bad is it?”
“Bumper’s dented. Can’t tell what else is wrong.” Fuck, I need to put my game face on. Rubbing a hand over my aching ribs, I take a deep breath and turn back toward the guys. “I’ll check it tomorrow when the light’s good.”
Shit, I really hope there’s no major damage. I guess I should call my insurance company. I can barely afford the old truck as it is, and dammit, I need it running.
“I may be bruised in other places, you know,” Seth is saying, holding his girl to him so tight their bodies mesh into one, but I can see the flush on her face as he goes on. “You should give me a full-body check.”
“Seth, you jerk, I’m serious.” She wraps her arms around his neck.
“So am I.”
Looks like Seth is fully distracted. He probably won’t be staying late tonight. Thank fuck he’s off my case. I could use a break right about now.
“Come on, first round’s on me,” Micah says, and yeah, this sounds more like it.
Get drunk off my ass. Forget about chicks and dirty sex. Brain has to switch off or implode.
