Crashed (Entangled Indulgence)(22)

She sobbed uncontrollably now. Rusty and Piper clung to her, crying as well, their grip almost painful.

“Please don’t make me. I don’t like it there. I don’t want to—”

The door opened and a woman with blond hair and small blue eyes walked in. “That’s enough now, Alex. You know you have to go back.”

“Maybe she could just stay tonight,” Mr. West said.

The woman shook her head. “No. That’ll just make it harder in the long run.” She held out her hand. “Come on now, Alex. It’s time to go.”

She shook her head again and spun around, panic and all kinds of other feelings swirling in her belly, making her feel sick. Without thinking, she ran, ran from the woman trying to take her away, straight through the living room. She saw the window but didn’t stop, had to get away. She wasn’t going back.

Alex shot up in bed, her screams dying in her throat when she realized it was just a dream. The only dream she ever had. She ran shaky hands across her face and pushed her sweat-soaked hair off her face.

Goddammit.

Sitting up, she pulled her knees to her chest. She hadn’t had the dream in months, had hoped it had stopped altogether. She’d suffered night terrors after her parents died in a house fire. Another reason she hadn’t lasted long with any of the foster families she got placed with. No one liked to be woken in the middle of the night by a kid screaming hysterically.

Grabbing her phone, she checked the time. Crap. She’d slept in. Shoving back the covers, she scrambled out of bed and stripped on her way to the bathroom. The warm water pouring over her in the shower helped to ease her stiff muscles. After she dried off, she threw on a pair of shorts and a tank, pulled on socks, and stuffed her feet in her boots. Then she grabbed an apple off the counter and clomped down the stairs to the garage.

Her phone beeped in her pocked on her way down, and she hated the flutter of anticipation when she checked to see who the text was from. Rusty.

Wake the hell up.

She shoved the phone back in her pocket and tried not to think about the amount of times she’d checked the blasted thing yesterday.

Deacon hadn’t called the day after her midnight dash, like he said he would. Nor did they have their clothing-optional night in. But she had received a few quick text messages to say he was busy. She wasn’t buying it, though. More like he was pissed off that she’d pulled another runner.

What if he’d decided she was too much trouble? She hadn’t exactly made this easy on him. What if he’d decided to end it and found someone else to be his date? Someone like Candice, for example. She’d bet every cent she had, which wasn’t a hell of a lot, that Candice wouldn’t turn him down. She’d plant her ass in Deke’s bed, in that flashy apartment, and wouldn’t leave until she was prized out with a crowbar.

She shut those thoughts down quickly. That wasn’t the issue here.

If he reneged, would he go ahead and put the garage up for sale right away?

When she walked into the workshop, Piper was in her office and Rusty, already in coveralls, had her head under the hood of Mr. Cannon’s 1968 Dodge Charger.

She looked up, and a grin spread across her face. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“I know.” Alex held up her hands. “I slept in.”

“Yeah?” Concern creased her friend’s brow. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that.”

Rusty put down her socket wrench and straightened, rubbing the grease from her hands on the ass of her coveralls. “The dream?”

Alex shrugged, not wanting to get into it, not wanting to worry her friends, and definitely not wanting to dwell on the reason she thought she’d started having them again.

Rusty walked over and gave her a quick hug. “You think this is about your date the other night? You like this guy?”

The woman was too damn perceptive for her own good. She’d always been able to read her like a book. “Nah, it’s nothing serious. You know me.”

Rusty stared at her for several seconds, her intense gaze so much like her brother’s in that moment it made her squirm. “Okay. If you say so. But you know I’m here if you need to vent, right?”

“Just try to stop me.”

Rusty’s stunning grin returned, then her eyes lifted to something over Alex’s shoulder. They widened. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Alex spun around in time to see a 1970 Dodge Super Bee 426 Hemi Flashback pull up in front of their garage.

Purple.

Her knees actually went weak. This was the car. The car of her dreams. Instead of actors or singers on her walls when she’d been growing up, she’d had a poster of this car—well, not on her walls, because she wasn’t allowed, but the picture had gone to every one of her foster homes with her.