Page 18 of Roan

Stupid fuck. “She needed someone to take care of her that night and you took advantage of her.”

He stands from his place on the stool, his body rigid. “Oh fuck off. I’m so tired of this shit.”

“You didn’t even like her!” I shove him, only to have him push me right back against the stove.

“She wanted it.” He smirks. “Her pussy was tight.”

Ricky comes around the corner just in time before I reach for the frying pan. “All right. That’s enough. Knock it off.”

“Let them fight.” Shade groans, bounding into the kitchen again. “Maybe then they’ll stop bringing this up every time they see each other.”

“I’d fuck her again, too,” Tiller provokes, always trying to get the last word in.

Ricky stands between us, his hand on my chest. “Let it go,” he whispers.

You might think I won’t let it go, but I do. For reasons even I don’t know, I walk away from him.

Maybe being home isn’t such a great idea.

I intend on going back to bed, but Willa catches me as I head upstairs. “Oh, hey.” She hugs me. “I didn’t know you were back. Congratulations on Erzberg. That’s huge!”

I ignore the praise. I’ve never been good at accepting it. I want to be the best, but without acknowledgment. “Haven’t been back long.” I draw in a careful breath, running my hand through my hair. I smile at Berlin, her daughter, on her hip. It’s crazy how much she’s grown since December.

Willa takes in my stance, the nerves running through me, or maybe it’s the hatred etched in my face. Could be all of that. “Still at it?” I shrug. There’s no sense in expanding on it. She’s heard it all before. “Take it easy on him.”

My brows pull together. “Why?”

“He’s Tiller. Excess should be his middle name.”

She’s right, it should be, and I don’t give a shit. “His problem, not mine.” I try to leave, but she grabs me by the elbow. “Roan, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Something is.”

I lean into the railing, my arms crossed over my chest. “I’m just sick of this place. Same shit different day.”

Willa glances at Berlin, then me. “I know the feeling.” I feel bad for Willa. She’s spent her adult life trying to raise assholes, only to get knocked up by the leader of them. No, not me. Ricky. And if you think Ricky is a leader, you’ve got another think coming. If it hadn’t been for Willa, all four of us would have been in prison.

In my room, I throw myself onto my bed. I stare at my phone. It’s July. She’s home from college, or at least I think she might be and the urge to know weighs on me.

I’m dying to call her, hear her voice, see her face. Anything. Since she left all I’ve done is race to avoid any thoughts of her. Didn’t work, but it was a nice distraction. Now that I’m back, the realization hits me. I can’t avoid her any longer.

I don’t want to.

The warm California sun beats down on my face as I sit across from my dad at a small café in Brentwood. I’ve been home for two days and somehow, someway, I’ve avoided leaving the house. Until now. If you had to guess, you know why, don’t you?

If I leave, if I slide into the driver seat of my car, I know exactly where it will take me. Back to him and I’m not entirely sure it’s what either one of us needs.

I watch the smoke rise in the valley, the wildfires kicking up with the winds. Southern California always has fires destroying the vast desert land, but this year seems to be worse. The smoke burns my eyes, a reminder that sends a spark of life through me. I think of Roan and what he’s doing now, with only two counties separating us. I ask my dad questions, in a roundabout way, trying to get a feel for what’s going on at that mansion on the hill. He doesn’t give much.

“How’s your classes going?” he asks, picking at the last of his hamburger.

“It’s good,” I tell him, my eyes landing on his cell phone and the direct line he has to the one guy I might never move on from. “I like them all.”

I enjoy college. I do. After months of depression, it was sometime after Christmas break where I forced myself to try to be happy. The nights were always the worst for me. Memories would take over, all-encompassing of our time together. As heart-wrenching as they were, I welcomed them because it was the only time I felt alive and in love with the one guy who would always have my heart… a heart I’d give up willingly again if he asked for it.

But, he didn’t. It wasn’t that we lost contact altogether. Roan had a life of his own, carving out his name in the history books and I knew I needed to let him do that. He won races, championships, broke records and soon became the first USA rider to win the Erzberg Rodeo and the Roof of Africa in the same year. It was huge for him, yet I wasn’t a part of it any longer. I created an addiction to him. He fueled it and ignited the flame until it very nearly burned me to death. It hurt, really bad, but I did have my own life. With spring that year, I committed myself to heal. I wouldn’t wait around.

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