Page 124 of Finding Delaware

He grunts in agreement, “like what?”

“I don’t know. Like, parent trap them, or something. LindsayLohan style.”

“I have no clue what the hell that means.”

“What? You’ve never seen The Parent Trap?”

“Negative, Ghost Rider.”

“Of course, you’ve seen Top Gun, though,” I scoff, shaking my head. “It’s a movie about two twins who try to get their divorced parents back together by tricking them into being at the same place at the same time.”

“Ah.” He pauses and then gasps. “Wait. Huckslee, you’re a fucking genius. I have the perfect idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. This weekend, at the Nitro Fuel Games qualifier. We’re gonna get mom and dad back together, baby.”

Scrunching up my nose, I snort. “Weird way to put it, seeing as how our parents are literally married to each other. But I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”

“Yeah, and calling Salem mom is probably super weird, right? Since I’ve fucked her?”

“Jesus Christ, Taylor.” Burying my face into the pillow, I choke out a laugh. “You say the most out-of-pocket shit.”

“But you love it, though.”

I can hear the smile in his voice, which has my heart doing flips.

“Yeah. I do.”

I really fucking do.

Taylor

Spring has officially sprung in Utah, and it’s a hot one.

Hotter than Satan’s fucking nutsack. I’m dying in my motocross gear as I wait my turn while the other riders compete with their best tricks off a twenty-foot-tall ramp. Christian’s next to me, bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. Whenever a rider lands something good, like a Hart Attack or an Up-nac, he’s pumping his fists and cheering them on. It’s honestly kind of adorable.

There’s a crowd gathered, albeit not very big, as the qualifier isn’t open to the public. Each rider is allowed to bring their people to support them, and as I glance toward the stands, I can already see Salem’s blazing red hair shining under the morning sun. She’s got a pink streak in it now, matching my tips, and she’s also sitting as far away from Huckslee and Logan as she can get.

Yeah, she’s a little pissed at me for inviting them. But she can get over it because I’m doing this for her moody ass.

Xed, Matty, and Hannah are here too, the three-year-old already talking Huck’s ear off. He’s trying to be polite and pay attention to her, but his eyes keep flicking back up to me, and I grin. I’m dying to see him. Haven’t seen him in person since that night in my room after the Prospector, and the pictures we’ve been sending each other all week aren’t enough. We FaceTimed last night because he loves to watch me come, and even though it was sexy as hell, I’m more of the physical type. I need to touch and taste. Breathe people in. Feel them close to me.

“Dude, did you see that shit!” Christian grabs my shoulder, shaking me as he hollers toward the ramp at whatever trick I missed. “A double Superman seat grab, man! These guys are good, Tay.”

“Well, guys and gals,” I correct, eyeing the woman next to me who’s currently leading the scoreboard with the best Oxecutioner I’ve ever seen. She winks up at me, pale purple hair freeing from her braid.

Karlee Kaliente, as she goes by, is one of the bestup-and-coming motocross athletes in the country—besides Christian and me, of course. She’s also the girl who almost beat me during the scholarship race in high school when we both got taken out by Christian, securing Huckslee the win.

“You’re up next, big guy.” She reaches around me to slap Christian on the arm. “Knock ’em dead, kid.”

He scoffs, pulling his hair back with a grin. “You’re like a whole year younger than me,bebita.” Putting on his helmet and mounting his two-stroke, we share our fist bump before his engine roars to life, and he rides out onto the tarmac to warm up.

Karlee’s shoulder bumps mine. “You got anyone watching today?”

“Yep. Christian’s mom is here, plus our friends and my...” Shit. What do I call him? “My...Huckslee,” I finish lamely. We haven’t exactly discussed what we are to each other, and calling him my stepbrother after everything we’ve done over the last week feels wrong. Even if it is technically accurate.

“Your ‘Huckslee,’ huh?” Karlee smiles, pointing to the stands. “My girlfriend is here, too. And my parents.”

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