Page 70 of Stupid Dirty

Cade snorts a little, even as his eyes shine with emotion. “Yeah, baby, that’s not your area.”

“You know I’m not great at reading people. But I want to be here for you all the time. So you have to tell me what you need. If you want me to touch you and be there for you, just let me. If you need space, tell me and I’ll give you space. But you can’t…go away. In your head. Like you have for the past twelve hours. Because I can’t figure out what you’re thinking, and my fucked-up brain is always, always, always going to assume the worst. Deal?”

He blinks at me, his gray eyes pale in the early morning light, shining with all the tears I’m sure he hasn’t let himself shed tonight. He looks hopeful, for once. The wind blows a stray curl of dark hair into his face, so I push it back where it belongs while I wait for his answer.

“Deal,” he finally says, sealing it with a kiss.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The sounds of heavy breathing echo through the room, intensifying like it’s feeding off itself, until we finally collapse in a sweaty heap.

Silas’ lonely mattress on the floor of his childhood bedroom is depressing. More depressing, somehow, than the ramshackle poverty-cage I call home. But he’s here, and that’s all it takes for me to follow, apparently.

There’s been a shift between us since the hospital. We haven’t talked about it in more depth, but everything has felt more real. More settled. It’s like a lot of our unspoken insecurities have been put to bed and we’re both coming to terms with the fact that whatever we’re doing together isn’t going to blink out of existence at the slightest provocation.

I wrap the thought around me and snuggle into it, the same way I snuggle deeper into the reassuring cage of Silas’ arms. They’re both equally comforting.

We agreed we wouldn’t make an effort to tell people we’re together, because all the important people in our lives alreadyknow. But we’re not hiding it, either. Travis is the last real question mark. I may have been pushing that envelope a little by spending more time over here atCasa de Rush,hoping he’ll stumble in on us and we can finally put all the wondering behind us.

If he’s going to flip out and try to take Silas away from me, I’d rather face it sooner than later. It might as well be now. I’m still simmering in anger that I can’t take out on my own shitty parents. There’s plenty to go around. My dad is gone and my mom has actually beentryingsince the accident. Travis can come at me.

I have crippling childhood attachment issues, and I’ve officially gone emotionally all-in with Silas. Travis can pry him out of my cold, dead hands.

It’s not like he’s around much these days. Whenever I ask Silas, he says his dad’s been real cagey and insists he’s “working on something big”, whatever that means. As long as he’s not asking Silas for money, and whatever it is distracts him from fucking with my baby’s head, I’m okay with it.

The thought makes me press my face deeper into the crook of Silas’ neck. His skin is warm, still flushed and sweat-damp, and the smell of us is so thick in the room I feel like it’s trying to drug me into a calm sleep. Silas’ breath ghosts over my skin, warm and even, and I let myself be lulled by the rise and fall of his chest under my shoulder.

“Don’t fall asleep, sweetheart,” he says, his own voice sticky with sleep before he presses a kiss to the top of my head. Trust Silas to be watching out for me, even when he’s halfway to passed out. He knows I won’t sleep anywhere but the trailer anymore. No matter how much Mom cleans up her act, I can’t do it. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.

Rolling back a few inches, I tilt my head to look at him and arch into a stretch like a cat.

“Mmm, not sleeping. Jus’ comfy.”

He snorts. His eyes look dark in the low light; a deep, earthy brown color that always makes me feel rooted in place. He watches me stretch, using it as an excuse to rub more of my sweaty, naked body against him, and the naked affection in his eyes makes my heart do a weirdthump-squeezething.

“That’s what you always say. Then you start sawing logs. Then I wake you up and you paw at me like it’s my fault you can’t keep your eyes open.”

“It is your fault,” I say, shutting my eyes. “You fucked my brains right outta me. How am I supposed to stay awake after that? Let alone get up and walk to my truck?”

I can’t see his face with my eyes closed, but I catch the softest sound, like an exhalation of air, that tells me exactly what expression he’s making.

“Do you need me to carry you? Like a baby?”

“Yes.” I roll over, flopping my entire body on top of him and making him grunt. He wraps his arms around me again anyway, and the almost imperceptible squeeze he gives me tells me he doesn’t want me to leave anymore than I want to.

“How’s your mom?”

He already knows, but this has also become a new habit of ours. Buying time with small talk, dragging out the minutes before we have to separate with inane conversation.

“She’s doing pretty good. CPS has her on a tight leash. They put her on a whole drug and alcohol performance safety improvement something something. I dunno what it’s called. There’s a fuckton of paperwork, but the social worker isn’t that bad. Doesn’t buy mom’s crap for a second. Makes her go to AA and NA and parenting classes and all the rest of it. So far, she’s trying. Now that the motocross season’s here, I’ll take all the help I can get, I guess. Sometimes I think I should just quitriding and pick up extra shifts or whatever, but I know I’d miss it.”

“Nah, you can’t quit. You love it. I wish you could see yourself when you’re out there, the way you light up. You look so beautiful.”

My forehead creases. I don’t think anyone’s ever called me beautiful before, and it’s creating a tight, squirrely feeling in my chest. Must deflect.

“Yeah, well you know how it feels. It’s like freedom, handed right to you.”

Silas doesn’t say anything for a long time. I press my ear to his chest, still blanketing his body with mine, and listen to the loud staccato of his heartbeat. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Riding has always been the only simple thing in my life. I guess for him it’s the opposite.

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