Fight (Velocity, #2) (Velocity Series)

by Molly McLain

  “Yeah.”

  Ouch.

  “Did she say anything about who the father was?” Tito asks and I shake my head.

  “No. She was pretty tight-lipped about the whole situation.” I flip my eggs and glance his way again. “Sorry you’re mixed up in this, too, dude.”

  My roommate grunts. “Let’s hope that’s not the case.”

  “No kidding.” I don’t point out that it’ll be seven or eight months before he knows for sure. No point in twisting the knife a little harder.

  “You tell Taylor yet?”

  I shake my head and watch the eggs start to crisp around the edges. After the call from the reporter, I know I have to tell her ASAP. But with things being what they are between us right now, though, I can’t just call her up and try to explain. This isn’t a phone-call type situation.

  “Don’t wait, man. She needs to hear it from you, not the media.”

  “No shit.” The only problem is I’ve given her very little reason to believe anything I say lately. Except that I’d give her the space she asked for. I’ve done a better job of that than I like, purely out of respect for her. But it’s killing me. Driving me absolutely crazy, not talking to her like we used to.

  I miss her like hell, and I want my best friend back.

  Fuck that.

  I want more than my best friend.

  I want her goddamn everything.

  Tito clears his throat. “Go ahead and tell her about me and Bria.”

  “Why the hell would I do that? It might not even be your kid.”

  “Then halle-friggin’-lujah, but in the meantime you’ve gotta stop worrying about other people’s shit and deal with your own.” His jaw clenches and I can see it’s a difficult concession for him to make, offering to take on some of the drama. “Know what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not trying to screw up things for you, too.” I slide my eggs onto a plate and shrug.

  He snorts, drains the rest of his beer, and mutters a not so quiet, “Then be a dumbass,” as he stalks out of the room.

  I know he’s not wrong. When Taylor asked for time, my gut instinct was to dig in my heels and show her that it didn’t matter how much time we spent apart. The end result would be the same, because the two of us? We belong together.

  Instead, I backed off. Now she’s settling into the life she wants for herself. Without me. If I wait too long, she might decide she likes things just fine this way, and I can’t even go there in my head without wanting to smash the hell out something.

  I’m in love with this girl and every day that we grow further apart kills another piece of me. Another piece of us.

  I need to tell her everything and I need to do it soon.

  Chapter Three

  Taylor

  “Holy crap, your boy is on fire tonight.” Kara’s voice gushes through the phone, propped against the pillows on my bed. I have her on speaker while I fold laundry and ignore the pile of homework on my desk across the room. I might also be ignoring the fact that High Octane’s L.A. show is being broadcasted live on TV tonight. But I don’t tell her that.

  “I’m sure he is,” I say, shaking out a T-shirt. Not surprisingly, it’s one of the many shirts I’ve commandeered from Col over the years. Ironically, Wade is spelled out on the back, amidst of frenzy of bright orange flames. I bet he’s hot tonight. He always is.

  “Turn it on already. You know you want to watch.”

  Of course, I do. I love watching Colton ride. I just don’t want to witness any of the other stuff that comes with his job. Namely, the fact that he’s still playing that stupid kissy face game with the bimbo circuit bunny.

  I’m sure he has his reasons for sticking it out, just like I have mine for not wanting to watch, but it doesn’t stop the envy or the pain of watching him with someone else.

  “Hello?” Kara’s voice sing-songs through the line. “You still with me?”

  “Yep.” I clear my throat. “Just tired.”

  “Well, liven up, chickie, because I have something important to talk to you about.”

  “I’m not freelancing for the paper, if you’re going there again…”

  My friend laughs. “I wasn’t going to, but since you brought it up…”

  “Ugh.” It’s not that I didn’t enjoy writing for the paper back home—I just don’t have time right now. Of course, the money would be nice. Diapers and onesies aren’t going to buy themselves. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what exactly does Ed have in mind?”

  Kara practically squeals in my ear. “He wants to do a section for the younger crowd. Not kids, per se, but the tween to young adult population.”

  “He knows that most kids don’t read the paper, right?”

  “Exactly. You know we’re going online in a few weeks. He thought having age- and topic-appropriate content might attract them. Maybe get them interested in their community, instead of those silly games and pointless social media.”

  “And providing them with more online content is going to do that?”

  Kara laughs. “It’s a compromise. We give them good information in a format they’ll actually access it from.”

  Huh. Who would’ve thought the cranky old man had it in him to come up with something so smart. “And he wants me to do this? He does realize I moved out of Maribel, right?”

  “Yep, and you’re a success story. Small Town Girl Fulfills Dream of Going Back to College.” I can hear the smile in my friend’s voice. “Personally, I can’t think of a better writer for the job. You’re the kind of community member these kids want to know more about.”

  Minus the fact that I got myself pregnant during a one-night stand and I’m lying about it by omission. Yeah. Great role model material, for sure.

  “One, I’m not a writer.” If the stars could somehow realign and allow me to juggle both college and single motherhood that might change. Someday. “Two, I really don’t have time.”

  Kara clucks her tongue at me. “Uh-uh, girlie. You have time right now, seeing as you’re so hell bent on not watching lover boy.”

  Lover boy? I laugh. Loudly.

  “Ah ha!” she shouts through the phone. “I know that laugh, Taylor Jansen!”

  Here we go. “You’re ridiculous,” I say, amusement still lacing my tone, though there’s nothing remotely funny about the mess I’ve gotten myself into. Still, laughing is better than crying, right?

  “We might not go back as far as you do with Colton and Matt, but I’ve got you figured out, girlie. Women’s intuition.”

  “Sure, you do.” I roll my eyes and stack another shirt on the pile. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Well,” she begins, sucking in a deep breath and thankfully letting me change the subject. “You sitting down?”

  My eyebrows rise at her serious tone. “This sounds…not like you.”

  “It’s not. Not really.”

  “Then spit it out already.”

  She inhales another lungful of air, then exhales her next words in a rush. “I asked Matt over for dinner and he said yes. Please don’t hate me.”

  “What?” I blink a few times, unsure if I heard her correctly. “My Matty?”

  “Oh, God, see? This is exactly why I wasn’t sure if I should tell you. I know he’s had a thing for you, but I really like him, Taylor. He’s so grounded. God knows I need more of that in my life.”

  I wave a hand in the air for no one but myself. “Back up for a second, will you? First of all, I didn’t mean my Matty, as in he belongs to me. I just wanted to clarify that we were talking about the same person.” Because wild child Kara falling for small town Matt is the last thing I expected her to say.

  “Definitely the same guy,” she sighs like a star struck tween.

  “Then I’m happy for you!” I giggle. “And Matt, too, for that matter.” They’d make an adorable, if not unique couple. I’m not sure why I never thought of it before.

  “Well, don’t get too slap-happy—it�
�s just dinner. Though I’m pretty sure the fact that I blushed like a fool when I asked him to come over gave away my not-so-friendly intentions.”

  I smile. “You know I’m calling him as soon as we hang up, right?”

  “No!” she shrieks. “Don’t do that. I—”

  Suddenly the phone goes silent except for the murmur of her TV in the background. “Kar? You still there?”

  “Shh!” she hisses impatiently, then, “Oh, no. Oh, Jesus. Oh, Taylor…”

  A rush of panic races through me and I lurch forward, fumbling for the remote. “What? What happened?”

  The flat screen on my bedroom wall comes to life and the lights and music from the FMX event immediately fill the monitor. Okay, fine. So, I had the show on for a few minutes earlier so I could watch Tito ride, but that’s beside the point right now.

  “I don’t see anything, Kar. What happened?” I ask again, frantically trying to scan the widescreen view of the stadium while listening to the commentators.

  “Shut off the TV, sweetie.”

  “No, damn it! What did I miss?” If Colton got hurt… If something happened to him… I drop down onto the bed, my stomach clenched into a tight ball while my heart slams against my ribs. I might not like his decisions, but he’s still my best friend. And the father of the little peanut growing inside of me.

  “When was the last time you talked to him?” Kara asks and the ominous tone in her voice sends a surge of regret racing after my initial fear.

  “We texted yesterday.” Sort of.

  “About?”

  “Um, I don’t know. He told me he missed me. Why? Damn it, Kara, just say it already!”

  She pauses again, then my phone pings with a new message. “Just sent you a video. Listen to it and call me back immediately.”

  What the hell is going on?

  “Okay,” I tell her, but she’s already hung up. I stare at my cell’s screen, cradled in my palm, frantically trying to open her text. Or rather a video clip…of her TV?

  The dread in my stomach winds even tighter as I hit play and hold my breath.

  “Have you heard the latest, Brett?” one of the commentators asks with a chuckle.

  “I assume you mean the upcoming addition to the High Octane family,” the other man responds with a laugh of his own. “Gotta admit that I didn’t see this one coming, but hey? Young love is nothing if not unpredictable, right?”

  Oh, Colton, what the hell did you do now?

  “Don’t worry, folks. We’ll go straight to the source in the press conference after the event, but in the meantime, I’ll tell you this…” The announcer pauses long enough for me to hear the blood swooshing in my ears. “The circuit’s about to gain a new bunny. A baby bunny.”

  - - -

  Colton

  “What the fuck was that?” My hands wrap around the center of Chase McKinnon’s T-shirt before the punk can even pull his bike to a stop. He ran a shit night in front of the home crowd and he decided to take his pissy mood out on me. On my bike.

  “Was an accident, man. Sorry.” His shrug is as half-assed as his tricks and I tighten my grip. He knew damn well what he was doing when he flew past my unmanned ride a few seconds ago, not so innocently knocking it to the ground. The bike is fine—I put it through worse when I slid down that ramp during warm-up—but that’s beside the point.

  I hate this asshole.

  “I warned you to keep your distance.” With my face looming above his, I can see his too bright, pinpricked pupils and I can smell the weed on his breath. My stomach turns and it’s all I can do not to take my hatred and disgust out on him right here in the garage. “At least you won’t be here long.”

  The slimy bastard snorts. “Man, we’ve already had this conversation. I ain’t going anywhere if our pretty agent has anything to say about it.”

  Yeah, well, Liz obviously isn’t thinking straight either. Hasn’t been for a few months now, but I can’t put my finger on the why of it. What’s she after? McKinnon sure as hell isn’t going to make bank for her.

  “Go ahead. Keep talking shit. Just stay the hell away from me and my bike.” I let him go with a shove. I’d much rather pound my fist into his nose, but there’s still a crowd milling around in the arena. Still a mass of eager fans waiting to meet the riders and snap pictures with the big winner.

  Tonight, that’s me. I can’t very well do it with blood stains on my shirt.

  “Colton, get your butt out here already!”

  McKinnon’s face lights up as Bria’s voice floats through the door. She appears a second later, dressed in her snug as hell bunny garb. My eyes drop to her bare midriff, still flat and devoid of any sign that she’s pregnant. Thank Christ for that.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” McKinnon slides off his bike and hangs up his helmet. “What’d you think of the show tonight?”

  She shoots him an unimpressive glare before her focus shifts back to me. I’ve gotta hand it to her—she’s coming around. Slowly but surely. “The fans want their superstar. You ready?”

  Not really. I love L.A., but ever since the photographer busted into our conversation last night, I’ve been on pins and needles, waiting for the fireworks.

  “As ready as I’m going to be,” I mutter, grabbing a bottle of water. “Lots of cameras?”

  Bria bites her lip as her eyes glaze over with similar dread. “Only a million.”

  “Ah, but they love the you the two of you,” McKinnon chuckles. “FMX’s golden couple.”

  “Suck a dick, Chase.” Bria grabs my arm and tugs me toward the door. In the privacy of the back hall, she squeezes her fingers around my wrist. “I don’t like that guy. I don’t like this. Not anymore.”

  “Welcome to my world.” I can already hear the fans around the corner. Loud and excited. Anxious for an altogether different kind of show. The Colton and Bria show. What a damn joke. “But it’s almost over, right?”

  “Yeah, but you know they’re already talking.”

  I nod. “Even more reason to put an end to this. Soon.”

  “No kidding.” She blows out a breath and shakes her arms loose. “You ready?”

  “I don’t have a choice. I have to be.”

  - - -

  Taylor

  She’s pregnant.

  The goddamn bunny is pregnant.

  Allegedly with Colton’s baby.

  “Ahh!” I scream as I throw my water glass and watch it shatter against the bedroom wall, just like my heart.

  “I couldn’t be happier,” Bria says sweetly, grabbing Colton’s hand and smiling for the cameras. “I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”

  “And you, Country Boy?” the reporter asks. “How do you feel about being a dad?”

  “Uh…” Colton glances from camera to camera before he shakes his head. “I haven’t really thought about it, I guess.”

  The reporter laughs. “Well, you should probably do that sometime in the next, what is it, Bria? Eight months?”

  “More like seven,” the blonde corrects, then squeezes Col’s hand once more. “I think that’s enough questions for tonight. Thank you all for coming out and supporting the High Octane riders like only L.A. fans can do.”

  I watch in numb shock as she and Colton exit the press conference, hand in hand and looking every bit the perfect couple. I thought it was all pretend, but now I’m not so sure. This isn’t the kind of stunt Colton would ever agree to. Unless it’s not a stunt at all…

  Silent tears stream down my face as I stare in disbelief. This has to be a rouse. He wouldn’t sleep with her again, after he slept with me. After he told me he loved me.

  “Taylor?” My door flies open and Adam rushes in with wide eyes. “I heard a crash.” His panicked gaze swings from me to the broken glass and back again. “Ah, hell.”

  He doesn’t ask questions, just hurries to my side and pulls me into his arms. Where I fall completely apart.

  So many thoughts and questions ricochet around in my head, as the tight vice of envy cl
enches around my heart. Regardless of whether or not what I just saw is real, I wanted to be the one telling the world I was having Colton’s baby. I wanted to be the one he looked at with stars in his eyes. I wanted to share that first-time, special moment with him.

  Now that chance is gone. She took it from me, just like she’s taken everything else.

  I hate her and, right now, I hate him, too.

  He could easily choose me, but time and time again, he chooses the spotlight, leaving me—and us—in the shadows. That stuff is hell on a girl’s ego.

  Adam rubs a hand up and down my arm as my phone rings from somewhere on the other side of the room. Where it landed when I threw that, too.

  “You want me to grab that?” he asks softly against the top of my head, and I nod. I promised Kara I’d call her back, but I can’t handle conversation right now. Nor am I ready to give her the explanation she’s going to want.

  A minute later, Adam finds the phone and sticks it to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Tell her I’ll call her tomorrow,” I mutter, swiping at my tears.

  “What do you mean who the fuck is this? Who the fuck are you?”

  God, no…

  “No, I won’t put her on the phone, since I’m assuming you’re the bastard who made her cry.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him right now.” I try to sound stern. Solid in my stance, but a strangled sob breaks my words. Damn it, I should’ve known he’d call to offer up yet another pathetic excuse.

  “You hear that?” Adam grunts. “She’s not interested in hearing what you have to say.”

  I can’t make out his words, but Colton’s voice—his very loud voice—sounds through the line. He’s pissed. Demanding. But all his anger does is fuel my own.

  “Go to hell, Colton!” I holler and Adam’s face creases in sympathy.

  “Listen, man, I suggest you get your shit together before you try to contact her again.” He shakes his head at something Colton says, then ends the call and shuts the phone off altogether. “You want to tell me what happened?”

  I shake my head and he gives a solitary nod before reclaiming his seat beside me on the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, his hand curling around my knee. “For whatever he did.”