Fighting to Forget (Fighting, #3)

At first I thought he’d recognized me until I remembered I’m no longer the frizzy redheaded girl from his past. No matter how many times I see my reflection in the mirror, I still feel like Gia when Rex is around, scared and insecure.

“Really, you don’t have to do this. I can call my roommate. She can—” I groan when I remember that she’s working at Zeus’s until six am. “Fuck.”

He chuckles and rolls his lip ring around a couple times. “Listen, it’s not a big deal. I have a ramp in the back of my truck and straps to tie it down.”

I stare at him. How is it that a boy who’s been through all he has can grow up to be such a genuine man? He doesn’t walk around with attitude, goes out of his way to take pictures with fans, and helps strangers he meets in the alley. Amazing.

He shifts on his feet. “Look, I’m not some psycho. I promise. Besides, we basically work together. Go tell Mario I’m giving you a ride so that if you come up missing they’ll know it was me.”

He sounds so serious I can’t help but choke on a laugh as it bubbles up my throat.

He cocks one eyebrow. “That a yes?”

“Okay, as long as you promise not to leave me in a ditch somewhere.”

A slow curl of his lips has me sucking in a breath. My heart races. Damn, he’s gorgeous when he smiles.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

We stare at each other, me taking him in and him probably trying to figure out why I can’t drag my eyes away.

He clears his throat. “Right, well, I’ll pull up the truck. Why don’t you run in and let Mario know who you’re leaving with.”

I nod and he walks toward his truck. I do as I’m told, and think there isn’t much I wouldn’t do if he asked.

After a quick conversation with Mario, I’m back in the alley. Rex has my bike loaded into the bed of his midnight-blue Cadillac pick-up. He’s standing on the huge truck tire, pulling one of the ratchet straps tight so that the bike stays upright. Transfixed, I admire the bulging of his triceps and the lithe way he commands his body as if he knows every single inch and all it’s capable of. He reaches over the bike, and his shirt lifts a few inches, giving me an unobstructed view of his side and abdomen. Holy shit.

I break out in a sweat. My mouth goes dry and my belly tumbles.

“Hey.”

The sound of his voice pulls my attention.

“You ready?” He hops down from the truck tire and opens the passenger side door. With a sweep of his hand, he bows. “Your chariot awaits.”

I laugh and close the space between us. Stopping just before I hop up into the truck, my eyes find his. “Thanks.” For finally noticing me.

“No problem.” He motions for me to get in. “Load up, princess.”

He called me princess. My heart stumbles, tripping over itself, and I jump in. Once inside the truck, I watch from the rearview as he checks the straps one last time. I take a deep breath and laze in the scent of fresh cut wood and citrus that permeates the cab.

This is happening. I’m in Rex’s truck and we’re talking. My heart pounds so hard I hear it in my ears.

Do I tell him who I am? Right now?

Oh, hey, thanks for the ride and by the way I’m your foster sister, you know, the one who promised to protect you and failed. Ugh. I rub my temples. No, I can’t just blurt it out. I don’t know how he feels about me. Maybe he thinks I knew what was going on in that basement and didn’t do anything about it. He could hate my guts. He’d have every right to. Oh God. My stomach churns. What if that’s what he thinks?

The truck shifts as he jumps off the back and walks around to the driver’s side.

He swings open the door and slides in. “CB900. Nice ride. What year?”

Be calm. Don’t blow this. “1980.”

He turns the ignition. “Classic.”

“Hardly.” I pick my nails and look out the window. “More like a classic piece of shit.”

Backing out of the alley, he turns onto the main road. “It’s a flat tire, Mac.” He chuckles and the sound sends warmth through my chest all the way to my fingertips. “I found two nails in the front tire. The bike’s good; it’s where you’re riding that’s fuckin’ it up.”

My cheeks flame. The construction development. That must be where I picked up the nails. Shit. I was so consumed with Rex and his sleepover guest I wasn’t paying attention to what I was riding over. “Point taken.”

“Airing up the tire will do no good. You’ve got holes to patch.”

“What? So . . . um, no gas station?”

He stops at a red light and shifts his body slightly to face me. “No. But I promise to bypass the ditch and drop you at home. Where do you live?”

Oh crap! He’s going to see where I live. Not so much where I live, but how close I live to him. “Um . . . I’m off of 67th and Kelmore.”

He narrows his eyes. “No shit? That’s by me.”

“Huh.” I laugh and it sounds completely unnatural. “Crazy.”

Stalker. Psycho. Yes, yes, and yes.

Turning right at the light, he heads toward my house. “How long have you been working at The Blackout?”

“Not too long.” I swing my gaze out the side window.

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