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“Stay at Madoc and Fallon’s,” I tell her.

“Why?”

“They have a gate. It’s safer.”

Just then Noah climbs into her car, revving the engine for Kade as he works on something, and cheers go off all around him. Mostly girls. I wince, not sure if I have a reason not to like him or I’m simply jealous he can give multiple orgasms at the same time without touching anyone.

Dylan follows my gaze and snickers. “Dude, stop worrying about him and me in the same house.”

That’s not my concern. It’s just—

“I’d be more worried about him around your mom,” she jokes. “He doesn’t look at me like he looks at her.”

“Ugh…” Really?

“I think your dad’s about to kill him,” she muses, smiling a little.

“I’ll help.”

“Well, be careful.” She looks over her shoulder at him. “Mountain Boy can swing an ax pretty good.”

Whatever. I hold out my fist. “Text me when you’re home safe.”

She bumps me with hers. “Same.”

She keeps moving, and Tommy and I head for the bleachers, but I see Aro come up carrying two beers. She keeps one, handing me the other. I stare at it, knowing she’s not twenty-one and she has no money. “Do I want to know?” I ask her.

She holds my eyes, sipping her beer again as my answer.

Great. I shake my head, handing it to Tommy. “Go sit down and watch.”

I’m driving tonight, and she’s owed some fun. What the hell…

She smiles and pulls down her mask, sipping it like it’s cocoa on Christmas.

Music starts blasting over the speakers, riling up the crowd, and I feel sweat trickle down my back.

Aro drinks the beer and looks around. “It’s like a movie.”

“What is?”

“What you all do for fun.”

I drop my gaze down to her. “Have you ever raced?”

“Not for fun.”

It takes me a second, but a snort escapes me before I can hold it back. She doesn’t look at me, but I see a smile cross her face as she downs another gulp.

I take in the cars—old or new, that cost money to modify—and the teenagers, the drama, the rivalries…

I feel it too. I always did. Kind of hollow.

I never connected to this like Kade and Dylan do. I don’t think Hunter does either. This was our parents’ thing. I grew up with it.

I’m tired of it now.

I want something that excites me as much as this does them, but different. Something new.

I see my mother hand my little cousins, A.J. and James, some popcorn as they sit on the bleachers, and then she walks away, back to the concession stand.

“Don’t cause any trouble,” I tell Aro again before walking away.

I follow my mom, texting her as I go.

Behind you.

I see her drop her head and look at her phone. Her spine goes straight, and she starts to turn but doesn’t.

Behind the food truck, she tells me.

I see her walk for the field, trees dotting the area, away from the noise and eyes.

But then arms slip around my waist, and I go still, fear stunning me for a moment.

“I didn’t do anything with him,” a girl’s voice says.

Schuyler. I let out a breath, realizing it’s not trouble. “You let him do something,” I reply.

“We’re broken up, Hawke,” she says into my back. “It’s not cheating.”

No, it’s not, but still. I don’t know why I’m mad, though. Am I that jealous?

Or is it pride? Am I pissed because she let someone else touch her, or because she’s giving me an easy target to blame for why it ended? It wasn’t me. It was her. She did this. She’s the sole reason we failed.

I used to be able to say that, but after five or six Schuylers, I know it’s not them anymore.

“I want it to be you,” she says.

I shift, feeling walls around us that aren’t there. Squeezing us in, tighter and tighter.

I’m sick of sex. I’m sick of talking about it. I’m sick of thinking about it. Is that all anyone wants?

I pull her arms off me.

But she comes back in, grabbing me. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ll go as slowly as you want. I want to be your little animal.”

I wish she could. I wish anyone could at this point. I want to feel it. All of it. All of her. The vision in my head.

So fucking much.

But I keep stopping.

I pull away. I can’t do this right now. “I gotta go.”

I head off into the brush, around the truck, and see my mom standing near the generator.

She rushes up and hugs me, and I wrap my arms around her, feeling her head lay on my shoulder and remembering when I was little and mine rested on hers.

“Your father told me you were safe but thank goodness.” She shakes, and I hear the tears in her voice, but she doesn’t cry. “Jesus, Hawke.”

I release her, knowing I’m about to be yelled at now that she’s satisfied that I’m safe.