“I’m not going back to school, and I have you to thank.”
Her brows pulled together in confusion.
“I’m going to get a job at a garage. Maybe open my own someday.” The words leaving my mouth tasted bad. It wasn’t much to offer the girl standing in front of me, but Tasha didn’t ultimately care about money or her fancy car. She encouraged me to work hard, but not because she wanted me to be a lawyer. More because she wanted me to be happy. And I was. With her. “I’m good with cars. I’m great with cars. If I’d never dated Brooke, that’s the path I would have chosen. I believe that now. I was on the wrong track.” I put my hand over hers on my cheek. “But the accident led me to the right one.”
“But school…” Tasha pulled her hand away.
My heart sank the slightest bit. Cautiously, I said, “It’s not for me.”
Rather than looking happy, or kissing me, or telling me she would accept me no matter who signed my paycheck, her face contorted until it looked a lot like my dad’s earlier. Like I was a baby bird that had tumbled from the nest and was peeping for help from a nearby bush. She looked worried, and like she didn’t know if she should interfere or not.
“You are great with cars,” she said, her tone borderline patronizing. “It’s wonderful to have a passion. A hobby…”
At the word “hobby,” her voice faded beneath my thundering heartbeat. She was still talking, but I only caught every other phrase.
“…don’t want you to give up on yourself…make something of your life…never stop chasing on your dreams…”
Every word hit me like a punch to the kidney. My stomach soured; my entire body went on high alert. I blinked at Tasha like I was seeing a stranger.
My God.I was wrong about her. She was just like Brooke.
Tasha Montgomery didn’t want to be with a grease monkey. Didn’t want to live a blue-collar life with a blue-collar paycheck. I knew Tony Fry’s family had connections with the NFL. She and Tony hadn’t planned on slaving away at a local rehab facility or the VA. They’d be on the sidelines. Raking in the cash.
She was still talking when I interrupted.
“When I approached you at the frat party and dropped my ‘Cade train’ line, do you know what I was trying to do?”
I could see that she was recalibrating, trying to figure out how we’d gone from the subject of my dropping out of college to this.
“I was trying to get in your pants.” That was a crass version of the truth. “I knew Tony was a player, and I knew you went back to him no matter what he did. I figured you were an easy lay.”
Hurt outlined her features and I ignored the breaking sound of my own heart. I kept going, on a roll, and intent to give her a dose of the betrayal I was feeling now that she’d turned on me.
“I intended to take you home that night, fuck you, and sneak out of your dorm room the second you fell asleep. I assumed you were one of these rich girls who cared only about men with money, cars, and status. And since I was on my way to becoming one of those men, I figured you were fair game.”
My words had picked up speed, my voice steady, strong. I heard the anger there, each word like a nail being hammered into a board. A strange sense of power poured over me.
I was back.
No stammer lingered at the base of my throat, waiting to gum up whatever I said next. My speech problems had become my own personal lie detector. When I knew in my gut what I was saying was true, words came out smoothly. Just like my next ones did.
“Then I got to know you,” I said, “or thought I got to know you, and figured out you were different. You were different, Tasha, until this very minute. Right now you’re proving you are that rich, slutty girl I thought you were.”
Her hand cracked across my face, stunning me so much that all I did was stand there and blink. I ignored the sting on my cheek, but let her have the full view of my murderous expression.
“That is not true, Cade Wilson.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and I steeled my heart against them. A sliver of doubt sneaked in, one that questioned what I’d accused Tasha of. One that suggested I’d made a terrible mistake. If that was the case, there would be regrets, and I knew full well what I was capable of when I was filled with bone-deep sadness.
And so I walled up. I couldn’t afford to be wrong.
She yanked the towel off her hair, wet locks falling over her shoulders. “You are afraid. Too scared to go back to school and try! Ultimately, you’re scared shitless you’ll get in the courtroom and choke!”
I took a step closer to her, grinding my teeth into dust. She was wrong. I wasn’t afraid. Not of anything. Not anymore. I was in her face, my nose almost touching hers. She didn’t look the least bit afraid of me, and she shouldn’t be. I would never harm her.
“I thought we connected,” she whimpered, the fury leaking out of her eyes.
“So did I,” I answered. “Until you found out about my aspirations to become a mechanic. Admit it. You don’t want to change your lifestyle. You have a plan, and a blue-collar guy isn’t in it.”
I waited for her to tell me I was wrong.