Page 15 of Sin (Salvation #1)

Sin

I fucking hate mornings. They’re too bright and they start way too damned early. Sunrises should be at the end of my day and not at the beginning. Lately, though, each morning I jump up from my bed, no matter how late I went into it.

This morning, having rushed through my shower, I’m buttoning up my pearl snap one-handed as I take the stairs two steps at a time, jonesing to see Cassidy after a long night separated from him.

He’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes following me as I make my descent. When I reach him, I noticed his usually ivory skin is flushed.

“Are you feeling all right?”

It seems to take him a minute to process my simple question. “Wh-what did you say?” he croaks.

“I asked if you’re feeling okay?” I place my hand on his forehead. “You’re looking a little flushed.”

“I’m fine. I j-j-just got out of a hot shower,” he says, quickly stepping away from my touch. “We should get going.”

Glad he’s not getting sick, I decide to go ahead with the plans I’d made for our drive to school, so instead of heading to the garage, I go to the main drive where I asked Hal to have my Mazda coupe ready and waiting. Just as we reach the car, I throw Cassidy the keys.

“You’re driving,” I tell him, and then get in on the passenger side and wait for him as he stands there, cluelessly holding my keys. “I don’t know how to drive.”

“Well, you’re not going to learn out there,” I reply.

He can’t argue with that logic, so he reluctantly climbs into the driver’s seat. As soon as he closes his door, I breathe in the just-showered scent of him, and it sends me spinning.

Maybe I should have grabbed one of the larger vehicles instead of the Mazda.

I picked it because it’s not as hair-trigger fast as some of the others in my collection.

It’s also compact and easily maneuverable, but being this close to Cassidy is trouble.

I’ve been avoiding being in private spaces with him since I gave in to temptation and dropped that light kiss on him the other night in the library.

As chaste as that kiss was, it was mind-blowing, and I’m not sure I can walk away if it were to happen again.

He turns to me with a look of terror on his face. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” I counterfirmly.

“But Betty Jo is my truck. Shouldn’t she be the vehicle I learn to drive in?”

“Betty Jo is getting new brakes and a safety inspection before you get anywhere near her. Until then,you can learn the basics with Jeff here,” I say, patting the Mazda’s dash.

“ Jeff ?”

“Yeah, Jeff,” I shrug. “You seem to like namingvehicles, so I thought you might be more comfortable learning to drive it if I introduced my Mazda to you as Jeff.”

If anything, that seems to alarm Cassidy more. “What if I accidentally drive poor Jeff off the road?”

“Not going to happen,” I wave off his concerns. “You’ve been the passenger plenty of times before. It’s really not that different.”

He gives me a side eye, chock-full of attitude. “Except for the whole driving the vehicle part.”

I love it when snark wins out over Cassidy’s earnestness. It makes me want to tease more of those rare moments out of him.

“No worries. You have me as an instructor. I’ve been driving since I was thirteen.”

“Thirteen?” His eyes go wide. “That’s not legal.”

“Most of the fun things aren’t.” I laugh. “I stole my father’s Corvette, picked up Mercer, and drove to Chicago for a Jonah Reeves concert.”

“Wow,” he says, taking my story in.

“So, if I could drive six-and-a-half hours on the highway before I learned how to shave, you can drive Jeff here to Thurston with my help.”

He sighs. “Okay. I’ll do my best.” He sits up straight and turns to me, ready for instruction like the good student that he is.

For just a moment, I let myself savor the thrill of being the one to teach him how to drive. To be a part of another one of his firsts.

I’m becoming addicted to it.

“I know you will,” I assure him. “Now, are you ready for the most important rule of driving?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, sending a dark heat through me as I instantly imagine all the scenarios in which I’d like for him to call me Sir . Driving definitely isn’t one of them.

I push those images from my mind, knowing it is only a temporary banishment. They’ll return later tonight. “Pick good music,” I tell him, pushing a button so System of a Down floods the car.

He looks at me doubtfully. “Shouldn’t it be to put on my seatbelt?”

“That’s the second rule.” I reach over and pull his safety belt across him and fasten it, and then do the same to my own. “Gotta protect yourself from talk radio or bad music before anything else.”

I’m not sure he agrees, but he patiently awaits my next instruction.

“Okay, now make sure your parking brake isn’t engaged.”

He looks around, and I point to it, and he double-checks its position.

“Good,” I tell him, and can’t miss the way the simple praise fills him up. “Now push the clutch—left pedal—down with your foot and push the ignition button.”

At the sound of the engine, Cassidy jumps slightly. “Relax,” I tell him. “Jeff is just purring for you. Now, release the clutch slowly while gently pushing your foot down on the right pedal for acceleration.”

Biting down on his lip in deep concentration, he does exactly as I asked, like the star pupil that he is, and we begin to move forward slowly.

“That’s it. Now I’m gonna teach you how to shift gears.” He places his hand on the gear. His eyes immediately meet mine, there’s a vulnerability there. He’s trying to learn something he can’t really hit the books and study for. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I got you,” I murmur, placing my hand tightly over his. “We’ll shift together for a bit so you can concentrate on getting used to using the clutch and the accelerator while gaining the necessary muscle memory for changing gears.”

He nods. “I can do that.”

“Now, let’s start driving.”

“This might be a bumpy ride,” he warns me.

“Nah,” I say, unable to keep the heat from my voice. “The only rides I’ll ever take you on will be slow and smooth all the way.”

I have Cassidy drive us on back roads for a while until I’m convinced he’s ready for the open road. By the time we’re hitting Nashville’s city limits, I think he has a pretty good grasp of the basics, and though he’s gotten the hang of shifting gears, I haven’t removed my hand from atop his.

“You’re doing great.”

“As good as you did on your first solo drive?”

“Better.” I grin. “You haven’t totaled Jeff.”

He clutches the wheel and steals a glance at me. “You wrecked your dad’s Corvette?”

“Yep,” I admit, not wanting to relive much of that memory except for my accomplishment of demolishing my dad’s pride and joy. “Worth it, though. Mercer and I got to see Jonah and his band play before he got big. He opened for the Dropkick Murphys.”

“That had to be a great show,” he says. “I love his music.”

“Have you seen him play live?”

“I’ve never been to a concert before.”

I do a double take, but I can tell he’s serious.

He’s been too sheltered at Bellmore. He deserves to be in a large raucous crowd listening to music so loud and so good you feel the bass in the beat of your heart and can’t stop your feet from dancing along.

I want to be next to him when he experiences that, and I know just the concert.

“Tell you what,” I say in my best make-a-deal voice. “If you pass your driver’s exam, I’ll take you to see Jonah Reeves at the Freedom Festival in Lexington.”

Freedom Fest is the Appalachian version of Bonnaroo but with more moonshine.

It was started years ago by a bunch of Lexington civil rights lawyers who happened to also be old fiddle players.

They created an event to showcase bands with roots in mountain music, as well as to fund their legal passion projects.

Jonah has played the festival every year, and this year, he’s headlining it.

His eyes pop wide, and I know I already have him reeled in. “Freedom Fest,” he says. “Really?”

I mainline his excitement, knowing that even if Jonah Reeves ends up playing finger cymbals and castanets the entire show, with Cassidy at my side, it’s gonna be the best concert I’ve ever attended.