The Wright Mistake(7)

I clenched my hand into a fist to keep from slapping his endearingly handsome face. “Why am I doing this?”

“Because you’re intrigued. Now, let’s go.”

Austin jogged around to the other side of the truck and jumped into the passenger seat. I couldn’t believe myself, but I turned the truck on and slammed the door shut.

All I kept asking myself was, Why? Because, seriously, why?

“Don’t make me regret this,” I told him.

I put Jensen’s truck into reverse and backed out of the lake house. I was glad that I drove a giant Tahoe, or I wasn’t sure how I would have managed. The roads at Ransom Canyon were narrow. Luckily, most people were inside or on the lake, and we were the only idiots driving back up the canyon wall.

The winding road cut into the mountain face made me nervous as hell. It was bad enough when Landon had driven down it. This was a whole new level of unease. We certainly didn’t have canyons like this in Ohio. Truly, we didn’t have much in Ohio. Not where I was from.

Austin guided me around the face of the canyon, and I was so busy concentrating on not falling off of a cliff that I hadn’t noticed that we had come to some empty gravel parking lot.

“Right here,” he said. “Now, turn it around and back up to the edge of the cliff side.”

“Uh…how close?”

“I’ll tell you when to stop.”

He didn’t do that until I thought I was going to drive straight over the edge.

“It’s fine. There’s a chain,” he said when I refused to move another inch.

“A chain isn’t going to stop this truck.”

“Ah, come on, babe.”

He hopped out of the car, and I counted slowly to ten before following after him. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Why am I at an abandoned parking lot on the top of a canyon with Austin Wright?

“This is what you wanted to show me?” I asked incredulously.

He’d pulled down the latch on the back of the truck and dropped a blanket over the bed. He sat down and patted the seat next to him. “Over here.”

I bit back a snarl and took his offered seat. “What are we doing?”

He put his finger to his lips and then pointed out in front of him. I resisted the urge to bolt. He wasn’t being a total shit even though he was clearly drunk. I didn’t forgive him for pulling me into the lake or all the other stuff that had happened, but I had agreed to come up here. I could at least give him the benefit of the doubt before he fucked everything up and drove me mad.

With a sigh, I turned to face forward, conscious of his leg pressed up against my thigh and our shoulders almost touching. An electric current seemed to radiate between us as I tried to focus on everything but his body next to mine.

But what I saw was a perfect, unimpeded view of the canyon below. A crystal-clear blue lake was dotted with boats, Jet Skis, and a few tubes. From this height, we couldn’t hear the screams of excitement and adrenaline, but I could sense it. Houses dotted the lakeshore, gliding evenly up the canyon walls. Some were as large as the crazy mansion on the hill, as obtrusive as the steel house that had taken decades to build, and others were as small as a tiny one-bedroom, completely hidden and tucked away in the trees.

“Wow,” I whispered. “It’s a great view.”

“See? I thought you’d like it.” His hand trailed over mine, leaving little circle eights behind in its wake. “It’ll only get better.”

“Why are you like this?” I asked, my voice hoarse. I couldn’t look at him, but I didn’t move away. I’d always loved the things that were bad for me.

“Like what?”

“Decent when I want nothing to do with you.”

“Hate and love are easy emotions to feel. They’re powerful. It’s indifference you have to fight for,” he said, gripping my chin and turning me to face him. “Not caring about someone would mean forgetting them, and we both know that neither of us are forgettable.”

For just a moment, my fingers ached to thread up through his hair. My mind replayed past memories. Simpler times. My body remembered those lost hours. But my heart snagged on the rips he’d added to the shredded mess. It was a mystery how it still beat with all the damage it had sustained.

“I wish I could forget you,” I told him, not caring how harsh I sounded.

But, like usual, he just laughed and faced forward once more. He didn’t take my anger seriously. I never knew if it was the buzz or if he truly didn’t care.

“No, you don’t.”

I didn’t contradict him. I just huffed as I faced the horizon and watched the sun set on my first day newly single. There was nothing like a Lubbock sunset. Streaks of pink and orange and gold painted the sky like a watercolor, bleeding into the sky. The scene reminded me of a postcard—fake and full of hope.