Free Crash Into Me by Tracy Wolff Page B

hurt me.”
    “That was sheer, dumb luck. If I hadn’t walked out when I did—”
    “But you did. You did walk out then, Ryder. And you stopped him. No one else did that.”
    Her eyes were shiny with gratitude and something else he couldn’t—wouldn’t—name. He
     looked away so he didn’t have to see it. “Yeah, well, I won’t be there the next time
     some asshole tries to mess with you.”
    “Maybe there won’t be a next time.”
    “Yeah, right.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Because the world is made
     up of gumdrops and unicorns.”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “You didn’t have to. It’s like you live in a different universe, Jamison. One where
     it doesn’t even occur to you that you aren’t the first one—and probably won’t be the
     last.”
    Rage filled him all over again at the reminder of how he’d found her earlier. He wasn’t
     happy about not calling the police, but he’d known it wouldn’t do much good. No real
     damage had been done to Jamison—or so Max’s side would argue—and Ryder had no doubt
     that Max would end up weaseling out of everything.
    He was going to have a talk with Max later today. Make sure the singer thought twice
     before he ever pulled any shit like that again. Make sure he understood that it would
     be detrimental to his health.
    “You don’t know that he’ll hurt anyone else.”
    Bullshit. If all he wanted was to get laid, why didn’t Max go for one of the many
     available girls backstage? He wanted to hurt you, because he could. ” Ryder’s hands clenched into fists of their own volition. “How many times has that
     happened on this tour alone, right under my nose? I played poker with that asshole.
     Jammed with him more than once. And all this time he was—”
    “Damn it, Ryder! You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” Jamison laid a hand on top
     of his, squeezed tightly. “You’ve been beating yourself up for nearly a decade. It
     has to stop.” She tried to put her arms around him, to hug him, but he wouldn’t let
     her. He couldn’t. Not when a lump was trying to form in the back of his throat. He
     swallowed it down, refused to give in to the emotions swamping him like a tsunami.
    Shit, he should have ignored her. Should have had those extra shots of tequila. If
     he were still drunk then he wouldn’t be sitting here like a total pussy, trying not
     to lose it completely.
    “Maybe you’re right,” he told her, reaching for the remote so he could turn the volume
     up on the TV set. “Maybe Iron Man really is the best Avenger. Sure, he doesn’t know
     when to keep his mouth shut, but I guess that isn’t everything. Right, Jamison?”
    She gasped and he knew he’d scored a direct hit, but he refused to apologize. Refused
     to so much as look at her. Instead, he kicked his legs up on the coffee table in front
     of them and concentrated on the movie like his life depended on it.
    And maybe it did. God knew, he wasn’t going to make it if he had to rehash the past
     tonight—especially with Jamison. No, it would be better for everyone if he sat here
     and watched the stupid movie. The fact that he couldn’t see a damn thing thanks to
     the red haze in front of his eyes was entirely inconsequential.
    He waited for her to take the hint that was really more of a No Trespassing sign—in
     neon lights—but she didn’t turn back to the movie. For long seconds, she didn’t do
     anything at all. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t settle back against the couch
     cushions. Hell, he wasn’t even sure that she breathed.
    Instead, she just sat there, watching him. Willing him to look at her. To talk to
     her. But he wasn’t going to do that. Not now. Not—
    “Ryder, please. Don’t—”
    “Watch the movie, Jamison.”
    “I don’t care about the movie. I care about you . About the way you always beat yourself up over things you have no control over.”
    “Didn’t you get the memo? I’m a rock star,