Page 14 of The Cauldronball Run (Outlaw Country #2)

J .J.

Nevada

The Nevada desert stretched ahead like an endless wasteland, and J.J.

felt the weight of every mile pressing down on him.

Ninety-five in an eighty zone wasn't fast enough.

Not when every other team was ahead of them.

He had watched car after car pass them over the hours.

It was his own fault. He should have caught a nap while Farrah drove, instead of staring at her like a lovesick fool.

He was so tired, but they had to win. He had to be able to give Farrah something other than debt and failure.

"Flame Rider to all teams," Torch's voice came through the radio. "Heads up. We’ve got Smokies at border using thermal imaging that cuts through glamours. We had to detour through desert roads that haven't seen a repair crew since forever."

J.J. scowled. More delays. More obstacles. More proof that the universe didn't want him to win.

"Secret Agent here," Bondo cut in, his fake British accent thicker than usual. "I'm currently maintaining radio silence to avoid detection. My Aston Martin's stealth capabilities are being tested under these challenging conditions."

"Bondo, you're literally talking on the radio right now," one of the pixies pointed out.

"Deep cover requires strategic misdirection."

J.J. felt his mouth twitch despite his spiral. In his peripheral vision, he caught Farrah grinning.

A massive RV suddenly lurched into the left lane beside them, swaying like a drunk elephant.

"This is Troll One. We got shiny new RV. Traded old truck to nice man at overpass. Much better than being stuck."

"Troll Two here. RV has tiny bathroom. Also microwave. Very fancy."

Through the driver's window, J.J. could see one troll repeatedly slapping the dashboard-mounted GPS while the other wrestled with the steering wheel.

"Watch this," J.J. said, knowing what was coming. "Their GPS is having a meltdown."

Sure enough, even through closed windows, they could hear the synthetic voice shrieking: "Recalculating. Turn right now. No, left. Make a U-turn when possible."

The troll in the passenger seat grabbed the GPS unit and started shaking it. "Why won't you just pick a direction?"

"Maybe if you hadn't spilled Mountain Dew on it."

The RV suddenly shot forward in a burst of sparkles, leaving glitter in the air like a craft store explosion.

"They're using fairy dust as fuel additive," J.J. muttered. "Must've scraped it from the twins' crash site."

Farrah laughed, and the sound hit him like a punch to the chest. She was so perfect—beautiful, talented, actually wanting him despite everything. The partial bond hummed between them, her contentment warming him even through his anxiety.

It was too good to last. Nothing this good ever lasted for him.

"Hey," Farrah said, her hand landing on his arm. "You're spiraling. I can feel your anxiety spiking through the bond."

"We're losing time."

"We're not that far behind, but you're driving like we're being chased by demons."

"No, they passed us hours ago,” he said grumpily.

Her thumb stroked his forearm. "Talk to me. What's really eating at you?"

J.J. couldn't look at her. If he did, he'd see those dark eyes full of trust he didn't deserve. "You don't understand what it's like. Being worthless."

"Worthless?" Her voice sharpened. "The man who just saved two fairies from a crashed car?"

"Any EMT could've done that."

"Any EMT with super strength they gained from their witch mate's magic?"

She used mate so casually, like it was decided, like she actually wanted to be bound to a broke orc forever.

"Farrah, when this is over—when you realize what being with me actually means—"

"Which is what? Being with someone who makes me feel safe? Who looks at me like I hung the moon? Who marked me so thoroughly everyone knows I'm taken?"

Heat flashed through him at the memory, but he pushed it down. "Someone who can't even take you to dinner without checking his bank balance first."

"I don't need expensive dinners."

"You deserve them." The words came out rough. "You deserve someone who can provide properly. Not an orc swimming in debt who—"

"Listen to me," she said, her voice fierce. "You think I'm going to wake up one day and realize I made a mistake? That I'll suddenly care about your debt more than the way you make me feel?"

"It happens." His voice was flat. "Reality sets in. Bills come due. Romance dies when you're counting pennies for groceries."

"My ex-husband had money," Farrah said. "Lots of it. Know what he didn't have? The ability to make me feel anything except small and worthless."

J.J. finally looked at her. She was furious, her magic actually sparking around her fingers.

"You make me feel powerful," she continued. "Desired. Protected. Like I matter. That's worth more than every dollar in every bank."

"Until the lights get shut off for non-payment."

"Then we live in the dark and fuck by candlelight."

The crude words from her perfect mouth short-circuited his brain. "Farrah—"

"No. You don't get to decide I'm too good for you.

That's my choice. And I choose the orc who goes feral when someone flirts with me.

Who rebuilt an entire ambulance by hand.

Who's so careful with his strength he could hold a butterfly without crushing it.

" She grabbed his face between her hands.

"I choose you, you stubborn, insecure, magnificent bastard. "

The partial bond between them flared hot, her certainty pouring through it like molten gold. For a moment, he let himself believe it could be real. That she could actually want him, debt and all.

J.J. stared at the highway ahead. How could he explain that every good thing in his life had eventually been taken away. That maybe he didn't deserve to keep her.

"You remember when I told you about working three jobs just to make loan payments?" he said finally.

"The discrimination after the construction accident video."

"That's not the whole story. The worker I saved? His name was Tobey Roberts. Twenty-two years old, engineering student working construction to pay for school."

Farrah was quiet, waiting.

"Three months after I pulled that beam off him, he was dead. Overdosed on fentanyl he bought on the street." J.J.'s voice went flat. "Started with legitimate pain medication for the injuries I couldn't prevent completely. When the doctors cut him off, he found other sources."

"J.J., that's not—"

"His mother called me at the hospital. Wanted to know if there was anything else I could have done, if I'd missed something.

" The words tasted like ash. "She wasn't angry, just..

. broken. And I started thinking maybe she was right to ask.

Maybe if I'd been more careful, if I'd thought about long-term consequences instead of just getting him out. .."

The confession hung between them. This was why J.J. couldn't have good things. Why every job disappointed, every relationship failed, every hope turned sour.

Farrah was quiet for a long moment, her hand still resting on his arm.

"How many people have you saved in the three years since Tobey died?"

He blinked at the unexpected question. "I don't know. That's not really—"

"Guess."

He thought about it. Heart attacks stabilized, overdoses reversed, car accidents where his strength had meant the difference between life and death. "Maybe fifty. Sixty."

"Sixty people are alive today because of you. Sixty families didn't have to plan funerals." Farrah's voice intensified. "But you're torturing yourself over one person whose addiction you didn't cause and couldn't cure."

J.J. felt the first crack in three years in the armor of self-imposed guilt he had almost smothered himself with.

"Construction workers get addicted to painkillers from routine injuries every day," Farrah continued. "People overdose after perfectly normal surgeries. Tobey's death is tragic, but it's not your fault. You gave him three extra months of life. That matters."

She reached over and placed her hand firmly on his thigh, the contact sending heat through him even as he tried to focus on the road.

"Listen to me. I don't care about your debt or your guilt over Tobey Roberts. I don't care about Sheriff Lawman or federal crimes." Her voice was absolute. "I care about you. The orc who saves lives for a living.”

The partial bond washed over him like sunlight after years of darkness. For the first time since Tobey died, J.J. let himself believe it might be true.

"The question is," Farrah continued, her hand still warm on his thigh, "are you going to choose me back? Or are you going to keep punishing yourself for tragedies you couldn't prevent?"

J.J. looked at her fierce dark eyes, her stubborn chin, the way she was standing by him while he drove toward an uncertain future.

"I choose you," he said, and meant it completely.

"Good." Farrah squeezed his thigh. "Because we have a race to win."

J.J. pressed harder on the accelerator, feeling something settle into place. Not complete healing—that would take time. But the beginning of forgiveness, of possibility, of a future where his past mistakes didn't define his worth.

"Hold on," he said as their speed climbed past one hundred. "We’re going to catch up to the race leaders and show them whose boss."

“Damn straight.”

The certainty in her voice made him want to believe everything would work out. But J.J. had learned long ago that wanting something too much was the surest way to lose it.

And he wanted Farrah more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.