Spinning Out(The Blackhawk Boy #1)(52)

Parking the car in the gravel in front of his trailer, I cut the engine  and take a long, slow breath. "I'm not my mother," I tell him.

He lifts his chin. There are tears on his cheeks. "You're just like her."

Kids play in the empty lot across the street, laughing and chasing each  other with water guns. It could be a picture from my childhood. "I work  for the Woodisons, true, and I've fallen for Arrow, but I'm not her. I  didn't cheat on my husband or leave my family behind. I took a good job  with a wealthy family so I could pay for my school and take care of  you."

"You let him ruin you."

He still won't look at me, and I swallow back the hurt. "If you think my  only value was in my virginity, then I guess you're right." I take  another deep breath and watch the kids play, their bare feet flying  through the thick green grass. "I'm really smart, Daddy. I know you know  that, but you never would admit that it mattered. And I sing. I'm good  at it, and it makes me feel alive. I'm a lot more than an unmarried girl  who gave up her virginity to a sweet boy who made her feel special."

"I know that." His voice is low and quiet. "Why do you think I wanted more for you than to be their servant?"

I press my palm to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut. "There's no shame  in working your way to a better life. I'm proud of the work I do. I  don't want to do it forever, but that's exactly why I'm working so hard.  So I can have better down the road."

When he finally turns to look at me, another tear slides down his cheek  and slices through my heart. "I'm so sorry." He scrunches up his nose  and draws a breath in through his teeth. "I panicked. I never should  have gotten my gun. Don't hate me. You're my Mia. I can't lose you,  too."

My eyes burn and the world goes blurry for the heartbeat before the  tears start rolling. My dad's a lazy, misogynistic drunk, but that  doesn't change the fact that I love him, and I've needed to know that he  loves me too.                       
       
           



       

"This can't go on." I reach over the console, take his hand, and squeeze  it. Tears thicken my throat. How is it we can know something for years,  but it only seems real when we finally say it out loud? "You've got a  problem with alcohol, and we need to get you some help."

"I'm fine," he says. His lower lip trembles, and he looks so much older than his fifty years.

"No you're not, Daddy. You haven't been fine since Mom left. And it's time to do something about that. It's time to sober up."

He holds my gaze and shakes his head. "I already tried AA. Nic had me  going before he . . ." He squeezes his eyes shut and exhales slowly. "It  didn't work."

"Let's get you to bed," I say, because I don't want to argue. Not today.  I promise myself I'll try again tomorrow, but this morning my heart  aches too much to carry on like this.

I get him in the house and tuck him in, then I search for liquor  bottles-under the bed, behind the toilet, under the sink-and dump  everything I find. I clean the kitchen and tidy the living room and kiss  my sleeping father on the forehead before I leave.

When I go out front, I see Sebastian's car at his grandmother's trailer  and decide to tell him that Dad's promised to stop drinking.

The screen creaks and rattles as I knock.

"Come on in," Sebastian calls.

I step into the trailer and smile at the scent of chocolate chip  cookies. The trailer is almost identical to Dad's, though this one's  been better maintained, and where Dad's feels small and cramped, this  one feels warm and cozy. This one reminds me of how Dad's was before Mom  left-always a blanket on the back of the couch and the smell of cookies  in the air.

Sebastian sits at the kitchen table with a manila folder in front of  him. The folder is open to a thick stack of papers, but he's holding a  single page and staring at it like he's trying to interpret hieroglyphs.

"What is that?"

Sebastian's head snaps up. "Mia. I didn't know it was you."

I step forward, and he drops the paper on top of the pile and closes the folder.

"Nothing." He steadies his gaze on the wall behind me.

"Is it about the accident? Are those the police reports you said you'd get me?"

"I didn't know you'd be here. I wanted to look through them first." He grimaces.

"Let me see it. Let me see the one you were looking at when I walked in."

"Mia."

"You found something, didn't you? You figured it out."

Standing, he unzips his backpack and slides the folder inside. "Let this  go, okay? Nothing good is going to come of digging any further than you  have." He pushes through the screen door, and I follow him onto the  front porch.

"It's Coach. Emmitt Wright hit Brogan and Nic."

"Shh." He does a quick look around us to make sure no one heard me but  we're alone. "Stop talking. Right now. Just stop this while you're  ahead."

"He did it." I know it's true, because I can see it in Sebastian's  eyes-that horror, that need to protect someone who's protected him. I  imagine I'd see the same thing in Arrow's eyes in this situation. He'd  feel trapped by the truth. He'd be torn between his innate sense of  justice and the man who's been all but a surrogate father to him. He'd  be a mess, and-"Oh my God. It was Coach, and Arrow knows."

"Coach hit a deer." Sebastian stands and throws his backpack over his  shoulder. "His car was damaged because a doe jumped out in front of his  car on New Year's Day morning. He even filed a report. Let this go."

"You'd already tested the blood, hadn't you?" He was too sure, too  confident when he took me to the shop. "You knew something was off about  the accident long before I started raising questions, and you'd already  tested the blood."

He shakes his head and turns away from me, heading toward his car. "Let it go."

"I'm not going to stop, Sebastian," I say, my feet crunching in the  gravel as I follow him. "I'm not going to let this go. I can't have the  whole world believing my brother was responsible for what happened that  night. Keep it to yourself if you must, but I'll find out eventually  anyway."

"Fine." He yanks his backpack open and pulls the folder out of it. "Take  it, Mia, but I don't want anything to do with this. Do you understand?"  He climbs into his car and pulls away.                       
       
           



       

I take the file to my car and sit in the driver's seat before opening  it. The accident report for Emmitt Smith is on top. When I first scan  it, I don't see anything that would upset Sebastian, but then the words  jump out at me. The officer noted the deer had been shot prior to the  collision.

Why would Sebastian be so upset to see the deer was shot before Coach  hit it? Maybe it was injured and that was why it ran into the road.

Or maybe the deer was a cover-up.

I drive to the BHU football facility and park in the side lot next to Coach's Cherokee. I stare at it for a long time.

If the deer was a cover-up, he wouldn't have scrubbed the underside of  the car or put deer blood there. Even if he took it through a car wash,  there's a good chance trace evidence would remain.

I know what I need to do.





I'm totally naked when Mia rushes into my room. I'm just out of the shower and my skin is still damp, my hair still wet.

She throws the door shut behind her and wraps her arms around my neck,  presses her body against mine. She rises onto her toes to kiss me and  threads her hands into my hair.

"Mia," I say against her mouth. "What are you doing?"

She reaches a hand between our bodies, unbuttons her jeans, and pushes  them from her hips along with her panties. "Arrow." My hand is fisted at  my side and she takes it, opens my palm, and guides it down her body,  over her stomach and between her legs.

I don't know what's gotten into her. This is nothing like last night.  This is frantic. This is the greedy kind of lust that isn't ever about  sex at all. She's looking for escape, and I give it to her.

I cup my hand between her legs and drag my open mouth down the side of  her neck. She arches into me, the cotton of her tank brushing against my  chest.

"Arrow, please." She lifts a leg and wraps it around my hips, trying to  pull me closer. She's still half clothed, and she rubs herself against  my cock.

"Mia, slow down."

"It's over," she says, lifting her eyes to meet mine. "I know who did it."

At those words, all the blood in my body goes cold, and at the same  time, I want to pull her closer. I want to put my mouth over hers so she  can't say it out loud, to silence her and protect our last seconds  together.