Page 96 of Give You Up

Scumbag’s truck pulls into Gigi’s Diner’s parking lot, and every nerve in my body stands on end, ready to charge in and haul him away from Syn. Then something happens that distracts me.

The little kid laughs at something Syn says, and my heart gives this godawful squeeze. He loves her. That little boy loves my girl. Jesus, she will be a damn fine mother. And I might have fucked up a future with her when I bashed her best friend’s face in rather than remain calm and wait for Syn and Dare to give me an explanation for why his mouth was anywhere near hers.

’Cause that’s my take on his comment. That the two of them swapped spit. How could Syn do that to me? We were exclusive. The thing is, she didn’t do anything wrong. I’m to blame for my fuck-up. I should have listened to the voice of reason. Instead, I did what came naturally to me—striking out first and talk or no talking later.

I am so focused on Syn and her brother, it takes me a second to realize the scumbag has inserted himself into Syn’s personal space. He slides into the booth and stretches his arm across her shoulders. I grip the steering wheel. Clench my jaw. No need to act yet. All he is doing is talking with her.

Then I see it. A flash of metal as he withdraws his hand from inside the pocket of his jacket. One, who fucking wears a jacket when the temperature hovers around seventy? Two, is he packing a gun or a knife?

No. No. No.

I bolt out of my truck, sprint across the street, and barge inside the diner. Bypassing the hostess at the podium, I charge to the back, and grabbing the scumbag by the front of his shirt, I haul him out of the seat and throw him onto the floor.

“Taron, what the hell are you doing?”

Before the guy can get up, I shove my knee between his shoulders.

“He was pulling a gun or a knife from his pocket.”

“I let him borrow a multi-tool. He’s returning it.”

“You two hooked up.”

She covers her little brother’s ears. His eyes are wide with fear, and my heart stops in my chest. What the hell am I doing? Shit, I fucked up. Big time.

I take my knee off the guy’s back. Stand. Extend my hand to her. “Syn.”

She stares at my hand. Shakes her head.

“Your temper, jumping to conclusions, I can’t have that around Gunner or my friends, Taron. Please, stay away from me.”

I am stunned.

“Pixie Dust, I’m sorry for what I did to Dare. You’re right. I shouldn’t have jumped the gun. I should have asked for an explanation. Babe.” I step toward her.

Gunner clings to her. He is scared. The kid is scaredof me. The truth is enough for me to give Syn what she is asking for.

“You sure you want to give me up?”

“I am. Goodbye, Taron.”

Well, damn. I did not see that one coming.

40

Syn

The weeks pass by in a blur. I spend time with my friends, work at Shades, and show up for my classes. Wash, dry, repeat. Except there is a big piece missing from my life—Taron.

He’s returned to what he does best. Winning games. Partying. Picking up where we left off finding the guy who hurt Natalie. When Cooper stops by Shades, he tells me about Taron encouraging the guys to take off their shirts for the girls, roping them into who has the best man chest. It warmed my heart knowing he is still looking for Natalie’s assailant.

What he doesn’t go back to is the coeds vying for his attention. He isn’t using his fists either. He is keeping his temper in check and his penis in his pants.

He is changing for the better, a work in progress that continues to progress to becoming a guy I would have loved to spend more time with.

Except I gave him up, and that thought shreds my heart to pieces.

Seeing him progressing for the better, I decide I should do the same. I let go of my crutch and rely on my calendar only for my work and class schedule. The rest of my life is fair game. I should live in the moment and not plan the details of my life down to the minutes.

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