Forget You

by Jennifer Snyder

  The desire to send him a quick text, asking how his day was going or something, anything, was nearly overwhelming. Popping my Escape in reverse, I was suddenly thankful for girls’ night, because now I wouldn’t be tempted to seem so damn clingy. I was never clingy with guys, and I wasn’t about to start with this one.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SAWYER

  The vibration of the handlebars had made my hands numb long ago. Just like driving my car too fast, racing out here alone was another thing my parents wouldn’t be happy about.

  This was where it had happened, where Ryker had taken his final breaths.

  In some weird way, being out here made me feel as though I was closer to him—as if his sprit was with me, urging me on to make each jump a little higher than the last. If I thought about it hard enough, I could almost hear him telling me so.

  God, I missed him.

  I revved the engine on my Suzuki, and the dirt beneath the tires spun out as I launched forward. Racing over the peeks and dips of the crazy track Ryker and I had built when we were both still in high school, I lost myself in the moment. Ryker and I had been so proud of this place. This place had been our sanctuary for years. It was on a piece of property our uncle owned and never used for anything, out in the middle of nowhere Coldcreek. Not only had we ridden here, but we’d also hung out with our friends and thrown many parties here.

  This place was home.

  Pushing my bike as hard as it would go, I hunkered down and eyed the bend coming up. At this speed, and with the ground as frozen as it was, I should let up some. I should move to the inside, where my tires would have the best chance to grip, but I didn’t. Instead, I continued forward, knowing I was pushing it too far. Knowing I was out here alone. Knowing this was probably what had happened to Ryker.

  At the last minute, I let up. My bike slowed to a more manageable speed. One that was safer. One my parents would prefer. One that wouldn’t injure me in any way. This was who I was now—safe. At least on the track. There was a portion of me that was scared, if I was being honest. Scared that what happened to Ryker could just as easily happen to me given the right conditions, speed, and mind frame.

  As I rounded the last bend, a couple of figures standing off to the side caught my attention. Letting up and creeping to a slow roll, I came to a stop directly in from of my bystanders.

  “Dude, I totally thought you were gonna do it,” Mitch, one of my brother’s friends, shouted over the engine of my bike.

  “Seriously, you were all hunkered down and determined-looking,” Tim, another buddy, said.

  They had their bikes with them. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one with a little speed and some sick jumps on the mind today.

  “I thought about it,” I admitted.

  “Care if we join you?” Mitch asked. There was a devilish grin twisting his lips, and the hint of a challenge reflected in his mud-brown eyes.

  I waved an arm outward. “Plenty of room.”

  My invitation was all it took for the three of us to be out there seconds later, shredding through every inch of the track. It was the crazy ass turn at the end—the one I’d nearly throttled through before seeing them, the same one that ended Ryker’s life—that I finally wiped out on. Airborne for only a split-second, I tucked my limbs in the way I’d always been taught, and I braced myself for the moment of collision. When my right shoulder hit the ground before anything else, the vibration of impact racked through my body, causing my teeth to chatter.

  Mitch and Tim were above me as I lay there motionless on the grooved dirt track. They were shouting things I could hear, but couldn’t make out clearly. My mind seemed jolted, stuck in the moment of impact. I wondered if this was what had happened to Ryker, but only ten times worse.

  “Sawyer, you okay?” Mitch asked. He had bent down at some point and taken off his helmet. “Sawyer?”

  The panic in his voice was raw and unbearable. Why hadn’t he been here to help Ryker? If someone had been there for him—if I had been there for him—he would still be alive. I was sure of it.

  Sitting up, I brushed the dirt off myself and pulled my helmet off. My shoulder was sore and stiff already; tomorrow it would be one hundred times worse. That was all I got though—soreness and stiffness, but not death.

  “Yeah, I’m all right,” I insisted without meeting either of their stares.

  Tim nudged my left shoulder. “You scared the shit out of us.”

  “Seriously, man, I thought something was wrong and I’d have to call an ambulance for you. Jesus. Why’d you take the damn turn so sharp?” Mitch held out a hand and helped me to my feet.

  “I don’t know. Wanted to see if I could do it.” I shrugged. There wasn’t a reason why. Not really.

  You have some sort of death wish or something, don’t you? Eva’s word floated through my mind.

  Maybe she’d been right on some sick, twisted level. It wasn’t as though I thought there was nothing to live for, or even that I missed my brother so badly I wanted nothing more than to join him. It was more along the lines of a burning need to understand.

  That was it. I needed to understand.

  A list of things surged through my muddled mind. Why had Ryker been taken so soon? Why had he wiped out so hard on the one corner he’d built into the track himself because he swore he could handle it? Why had there been no one there with him when it happened? Why was he out here so late at night in the pouring rain racing by himself?

  What the hell had happened that night?

  I scooped up my helmet, and dusted it off with my gloved hand. These were all questions I knew I would probably never have the answers to, but I could still dream.

  “I think I’m done for today. Sorry to scare the crap out of you guys.” I flashed them a half-hearted smile, and then moved to lift my bike up. “Y’all coming to the Keeton throw down tonight?”

  I was sure my parents had invited both of them. Mitch and Tim had hung around our house for so many years with Ryker they were practically family.

  “Yeah, we’ll both be there. We just had the same idea as you about coming here first,” Mitch answered.

  “All right, I’ll see you there.” I started pushing my bike off the track.

  “Oh, Sawyer?” Mitch called after me.

  “Yeah?”

  “Um…we made a pack to never come here alone since…well, since Ryker died. I think you should stick with that rule of thumb too, especially after today, man,” Mitch said.

  Never had we done such a thing. In fact, there were times throughout high school when it wasn’t uncommon to come out here for a little time on the track to blow off some steam all by my lonesome, and I would find Mitch already doing the same.

  That was before. This was after.

  “Call either of us, or even Benny, if you ever want someone out here with you. You know we’re all always ready to throw down on the track whenever. Hell, even call Wes. I’ve seen him out here a few times lately too,” Tim added.

  Wes? Out on the track? Wes was never a rider. Sure he’d come to the motocross races whenever Ryker or I had one, but only because he said they were the best place to pick up chicks. He’d borrow a racing jacket or a helmet, and walk around as if he was waiting for his race to begin while getting numbers. I’d never seen him walk away with less than three numbers each time. I’d also never seen him ride a damn bike before either.

  “Wes has been out here?” I asked. My face twisted into a dumbfounded expression.

  “Not riding or anything. We all know he’s not a rider.” Mitch chuckled. “But, yeah. I’ve seen him out here a few times, paying his respects or something.”

  That I could see. Even though it still surprised me he would do something so sentimental, I could still see it. The three of us had grown up together, Wes, Ryker, and me. Instead of being cousins, we were more along the lines of brothers.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said. I wheeled my bike back to the shed. I’d hired a local carpenter to build it for
me after I sold my truck and decided to drive Ryker’s car. Pushing it up the ramp, the sounds of Mitch and Tim hitting the track again filled my ears. At least Ryker would be happy to know that just because he had passed away here, didn’t mean we would let the place go unused. Maybe the guys had the same views on it as me—that Ryker would want to see it put to use no matter what. Hell, a part of me wondered if he hadn’t been standing there at the corner, saying, you’ll never get that corner right, you dumbass. You’ll always have to baby it like everyone else. A small smile twisted my lips, and I hoped so.

  After shucking off my suit as tenderly as I could manage, I stepped out of the shed and watched Mitch and Tim race each other around the track for a moment. Closing the door and locking the padlock into place, I made my way to Ryker’s car, ready to head home for a long, hot shower before going to my parents for the celebration dinner they’d put together for me tonight.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EVA

  “Does he have any tattoos? We all know that’s a mega bonus.” Lauren popped another handful of kettle corn in her mouth, and eyed me.

  Did Sawyer have tattoos? I flashed back to the mental images of him running through Gareth’s Park, shirtless and sweaty. While his face was in vivid clarity, his upper body was not, now that Lauren had flat-out asked a question like that.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, a little unbelieving that wasn’t one of the first things I’d noticed about him. Damn, I had a long list of things I needed to find out tomorrow night.

  “That should definitely be on the list of things to find out. Nothing is sexier than tattoos on a man’s ripped body, and since he’s an active member in the Guard, he’s got to be in shape, right?” Lauren set the bag of popcorn on the coffee table, and reached for her glass of wine.

  “Any type of muscles is sexy on a man, regardless if he has tattoos or not,” Blaire chimed in. “As a matter of fact, I’d prefer muscles over tattoos any day.”

  “Well, so would I, but a girl can dream.” Lauren reached for a handful of popcorn, and tossed a few pieces at Blaire. “Besides, my man has both.”

  I laughed. Ian was Lauren’s man, and yes, he did have both, but only because she’d told him time and time again tattoos were sexy. He’d eventually gotten one of his own. I think he was the type of guy to know a good thing when he saw it, and he figured if Lauren was as into guys with tattoos as she claimed to be, then he best go out and get one. He would do anything for her.

  “Jason only has muscles, and I find him attractive as all get out,” Blaire confessed with an impish grin.

  “I should hope so,” Paige chimed in. “You are marrying him in a few weeks.”

  Blaire unwrapped a chocolate, popped it into her mouth, and flicked the wrapper at Paige.

  “When did you two get so messy?” Paige picked the wrapper out of her hair, and set it on the coffee table with the growing pile from chocolates we’d already devoured.

  “I’m glad you find your fiancé so attractive, Blaire. I’m telling you though, if he got a tattoo to go with his abs of steel, you would be all over him. You’d probably lick it, you’d think it was so damn hot,” Lauren said.

  Unable to help myself, I laughed at the mental image.

  “As long as he showered, you’d be thinking he tasted better than chocolate,” I added.

  “Moving on,” Blaire insisted. She flashed Lauren and me a pointed look, one that said she was done with this conversation. “Eva, tell us more about this mystery guy none of us knew you were dating until date number three.”

  All eyes were suddenly on me, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. How could I tell them it had been lust at first sight? That every time he touched me, I felt as though my heart would explode right out of my chest. How could I tell them that our first date had been so incredibly juvenile I’d dogged it point blank numerous times throughout the night, but in the end, it had wound up being the best date I’d ever been on?

  “Is he better than the last guy?” Paige asked. “He was a real piece of work, remember him?”

  “Keith, ugh. I’d forgotten all about him. Why did you have to bring him up?” I crinkled my nose at the memory of him.

  Keith was one of those guys I had dated that never lost the what-the-hell-was-I-thinking factor. The more I thought about him, the more power that question gained in my mind.

  “Remember how she dumped him?” Lauren chuckled. “If I hadn’t already added you to my list of friends before that night, I so would have then. I’ve never seen such a bad freaking ass break up before.”

  I laughed and thought back to it. “Yeah, that was one of my better ones, I’ll admit that.”

  All of us had been at some random party. I’d gone to the bathroom, and when I came back, I found Keith heavily flirting with some girl. He was brushing the back of his hand against her cheek, and gazing into her bloodshot eyes. Yes, I had been on the rag that night, but it by no means swayed my decision to dump the loser.

  Although, it may have helped to infuse my anger toward him and the situation ten-fold.

  Storming across the room, I dumped my drink on him, and proceeded to rip him down to size. I couldn’t remember everything I’d said, but I remembered most of it. It had gone something along the lines of, “Here’s his number and some cliff notes: He smokes too much pot, but he’s good in bed. If you want more than that, don’t waste your time. I’m not.”

  “Yeah, that one was good. It wasn’t my best though; you missed my most extraordinary break up. Cameron was there for that one, Paige. A few years ago, I dated this guy who was totally wrong for me.” I paused and took a sip of my wine, thinking, what guy had I dated that had ever been right for me? “He’s actually the guy who forced me to come up with a list of categories in the first place. His name was David, and he was the typical player pretty boy I strive so hard to avoid now. He’s the one who Craig reminded me of, Paige.”

  Paige fidgeted in her seat at the mention of her ex. Craig Owen had been her last boyfriend gone wrong. He’d been a little intense—to the point of physically hurting her a few times, and being verbally abusive as well. Thank God, Cameron had saved her.

  “I’m sure he was a grade A douche, then,” Lauren muttered. Her eyes shifted from Paige to me, and then back again.

  While Craig had gotten help from his family by way of some expensive anger management classes and counseling, it still didn’t lessen the events that had led up to all those steps. I understood that better than anyone. A person could be forgiven, but his or her actions never forgotten.

  “Needless to say, David was very controlling and physically abusive. As a matter of fact, he’s where I got this scar on my upper lip.” I pointed to the faint scratch of a scar above my top lip no one ever seemed to notice besides me. Maybe it was because I knew the pain that had put it there. “He backhanded me so hard across the mouth one night that his ugly ass man ring his father had given him cut my lip.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, and took another long swig of wine as the memory fizzed in my mind.

  “Yikes.” Blaire shivered.

  “You did something badass to him for revenge though, right?” Lauren flashed a wicked smile my way.

  Biting my bottom lip, I envisioned how non-badass I was back then. “No, I didn’t get my backbone until later with him. Sure, I had little pieces of it, but I actually have Cameron to thank for my current backbone. He was the one who taught me I deserved better, that I deserved more.”

  “Sounds all too familiar,” Paige insisted.

  Cameron had done the same for her. The only difference between Paige and my story was the fact that Cameron knew there was not a chance in hell he would be getting into my pants. He and I were too much alike. He’d been through some horrible crap growing up and so had I. We’d bonded over Hemingway quotes and stories of whose life was more screwed up.

  I won that last category, hands down.

  While he’d had to endure finishing the rest of his teenage years without h
is parents who’d loved him unconditionally, I’d been bounced around in a seriously flawed foster system since the tender age of six, when my drug-addicted mother overdosed in front of me.

  “Anyway, long story short. A group of us had gone on vacation together to a place in South Carolina right on the ocean. We’d rented a condo, and split it so it would be cheaper and we could all stay longer. There was a restaurant beside the condo with an awesome rooftop bar we went to every single night. They had a live band, the backdrop of the ocean, and amazing mojitos.” I unwrapped a chocolate. After taking a small bite, I continued with my story. “I was sitting at the bar with this girl, Sheila. She was the girlfriend of one of David’s best buddies. We were drinking and talking. The bartender kept giving us free refills, so, naturally, we continued to accept them. I didn’t know David had been watching me from where he sat with his friends. Eventually, he came over and proceeded to drag me from my chair, telling me I was embarrassing him by accepting the drinks, and it was time to go. For whatever reason, I didn’t go willingly with him. Instead, I told him I would leave when I wanted. Alcohol was always my courage back then. David refused to listen though, so I took the nasty ass Black and Mild he was smoking from his mouth, and put it out in the center of his forehead.”

  “No way! You did not!” Lauren shouted.

  Blaire and Paige had already burst into a fit of laughter. Looking back, it was funny, but at the time, I’d been trembling in my sandals, wondering how hard he was going to hit me for what I’d done.

  “I did,” I insisted. I downed the last sip of wine in my glass, and stood to get a refill.

  “Well, what happened next?” Lauren asked.