Yep. Tasha.
I wasn’t welcoming, my pride still smarting from her definitive “no” at that frat party, but Tasha didn’t balk. She dug her heels in and kept showing up even though I never did as she asked. I tried once to practice a few speech exercises when she’d left. Stood in front of the mirror like a dope and tried to work through the words. It didn’t help and made me feel stupid, and there was a zero percent chance I’d do that in front of a girl I liked.
Used to like.
Fine.Still liked but put the idea of landing her to rest. Happy now?
Granted we hadn’t done much in the way of therapy, which could be why it wasn’t working. My fault.
I also noticed (begrudgingly) that I was calmer in her presence. More confident when she was around. She’d shot me down at the party way back when, but it took a lot more to shake me than a “Leave me alone.”
And maybe that was the thing…My relationship with Tasha started because I thought I’d get her into bed and take out my frustrations on a girl like Brooke—a girl for whom all things came easy. A dick move, I know. Instead I found some sort of solace in Tasha I didn’t fully understand.
It was messed up. Rather than use her for sex, I was using her to feel more like my old self.
While my body healed, my voice stayed broken. When I did talk, I sounded like a skipping vinyl record. Not what I’d had in mind neck deep into pre-law classes, you know?
I’d spent my time since the accident healing and lying around the house. But I was tired of being here all the time. When Dev came over a few weeks back and told me he needed help at the restaurant, I offered. And by “offered” I mean I nodded and gave him a halfhearted grunt.
Doing something was far less depressing than doing nothing, and at least I made my own money now.
I slid back under the car, content to work on a machine that, if it did ask a question, my tools could answer.
—
I had no idea how long I’d been under the car. A few hours, I figured. I was in a zone. It had been a while since I’d been immersed in a project. Long-term or otherwise. Now that my days weren’t filled with homework, studying legal cases, and my evenings were devoid of drinking beer with my friends, I had a lot of time on my hands.
One more small adjustment, then I could scoot out, take my shower, and head to work. Or at least I thought I had enough time, until I heard my dad’s raised voice.
“Cade!”
“W-wait,” I said, trying to finish up.
“Cade!” he repeated frantically, but I wasn’t answering him again. When he palmed my tennis shoe, I pushed myself out from under the chassis and glared at him.
“You left your phone in the house. Devlin called twice. Do you work tonight?”
Shit. Shitshitshit.
“Do you need me to take you? What were you doing under there anyway? The car ran fine until you started messing with it.”
But I wasn’t listening, tossing my tools into the red toolbox, slamming it on the counter, and yanking my T-shirt off as I ran for my new bedroom.
“Let me know if you need a ride!” he called after me.
Dammit.
I did. Which was unfortunate. The new guy with the new job his brother got him was going to have to get his dad to give him a ride there.
Shit!
I took the stairs two at a time, stripped off the rest of my clothes, and climbed into the shower. I had thirty seconds, maybe. I was making every one of them count.
Tasha
My last patient for the day was taking his sweet time. And flirting with me.
His hands gripped the poles on either side of his body as he took another shaky step.