Page 88 of Race to Me

“I knew you missed me.” A devilishly handsome smirk adorns his face while he organizes the massive amount of cash scattered on his bed.

“Don’t get too excited. I’m just getting my charger.” I lie, walking around to the other side of the bed to rip it from the wall. Only his lamp is on, creating a golden hue along his tanned skin.

“So, that’s why you didn’t text me back?” he wonders aloud, tilting his hard-edged face towards me.

I shake my head. “No, I didn’t text you back because I’m mad at you.”

A chuckle escapes him. It’s small and deep, and it sends warm, fuzzy feelings down my spine. I love that sound, the sweet sound of his laughter. “Okay, so you drove here at …” His eyes pan to the clock on the nightstand. “Two in the morning to get a charger for a phone that isn’t dead?”

I cross my arms. “Yes.”

“And you couldn’t have used Kate’s charger?” Foster asks with a boyish, cocky grin. He knows we have the same phone.

I roll my eyes, trying not to crack a smile. No matter how adorable he may be, I can’t live in constant fear that he’s going to die.

My fingers linger against the wall slowly while I make my way back out. When Foster stands, the piles of money slide off of his comforter. “Would you believe me if I told you the money is for something good?”

I bite my lip nervously, shaking my head. “I just don’t get it. It’s not worth your life.”

He shrugs, saying, “You’ll either have to take me how I am or walk out of my life, Skyler. I can’t do the ultimatums.” He crosses his arms, but the look of fear on his face tells me he doesn’t mean what he says.

His words make me freeze in place. That’s what my parents have always done to me. “I’m not trying to control you. All I’m trying to do is keep you safe.”

Foster walks closer to me, towering over my small frame and looking down through thick, dark lashes. “I know that, but you can’t have a tantrum when I tell you no.”

I slide against the wall to get away from his magnetic gaze. “I want to enjoy life with you, not worry about your every move.”

“Look,” He climbs back onto the bed and crosses his legs, gripping a large stack of bills in his inked hands. “We can enjoy life with this. I made enough to get you a car tonight. It won’t be fancy or anything, but it will be yours, Sky. And if you want, you can have mine, and I’ll get something else.”

This sweet, stupid, thoughtful man almost brings me to my knees. I climb onto the bed and cup his face. “Foster, did you race to get me a freaking car?”

He looks away, his midnight eyes trailing to the impossibly dark sky outside the window. “Just let me take care of you.”

“None of that matters to me.” I shove more cash onto the hardwood floor. “I just want you safe. That’s what’s important to me.”

His hands wrap around my waist, fervently and possessively. “You’re used to so much more, though ... and I have so little.”

I can’t believe he’s saying this. “Look at me,” I plead. “Don’t do this anymore. If I would have known this is why you wanted to race during a storm ... Just don’t do this again.”

“I have to.”

“Please,” I whine, hating myself for begging him, but I have to keep him safe. I don’t have many people left.

“I promise you it’s for the best. I need this money.”

“But not for me.” I repeat, making sure he knows this is not what I want.

“For me,” Foster admits. “I need to create a life for myself. It’s not so easy being from where I’m from. There are no advantages, so I take what I can. I do what I can.”

“You’re wrong.” I tell him.

“What do you mean?”

I shake my head, sliding my hand to cup his hard bicep. “I mean … you’re talented, you are getting a degree and you are going to make something of yourself.”

“There’s more to it,” he says, sighing.

An idea pops into my tired head. “Why not pick up a gig, like singing at a coffee shop or bar?”

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