Page 40 of False Start

nine

Mayhem lay under the heap,her head thrown back in laughter, her cheeks flushed, an open, sweet smile spread across her face.

I let go of the breath I’d been holding in a rush of air. Goosebumps prickled over my neck and my heart rate kicked up a notch.

No longer casually observing her for my own amusement, I voraciously studied her. Every last bit of her.

Her affectionate grin alone delivered a crippling blow to my gut. But that was just the warm-up for the uppercut coming right after when she slipped the errant strands of hair from the scared little girl’s forehead, tucked them behind her ears, and cupped her cheek.

The nurturing there punched right through my ribs into my chest and mercilessly rooted around for my heart.

Even drawn to her determination and drive—hell, even the slice of attitude—I’d managed to fortify my barriers. My armor hadn’t even taken a hit when I caught a glimpse of humor and vulnerability. I’d clutched on to my willpower and maintained distance, leaving her question hanging in the air between us at The Shipwreck, and walked away for what I thought would be the last time.

I held on to strength and common sense and reminded myself every time my mind had even flirted with the idea of wavering.

But the love written on her face right now was the kind of genuine caring I could never resist. Intimate gestures like those weren’t scripted; they were as much a part of who a person was as the veins threading through them. The instinctual comfort she offered came from a good heart. Seeing this side of her, when there was no one watching, no one to impress—fucking hell—it did shit to me on the inside I didn’t want to admit.

She compelled me to waver for the first real time since I made a silent promise to this town and the people I loved here to protect them from everything…even me.

The smallest of the three girls who’d taken Mayhem out, struggled to get up while the others yanked on her hands and arms to help. Once they made it onto their skates again, Mayhem bounded to her feet effortlessly, no pinch of pain flitting over her face.

Guess that rib felt a hell of a lot better.

So much better she guided them straight into another lap around the floor.

Anyone else would have had the kids take five after a spill like that, but not Mayhem.

Of course, not Mayhem.

If she didn’t sweep those little girls right into another lap, the one who fell may never go back out there again. Mayhem gave her the gift of faith. It would leave a mark.

Mayhem left her mark.

Apparently, she left indelible touches everywhere. Banked Track. The Shipwreck. Here.

Inside me.

She met my eyes, the startled confusion on her face just moments before now shrouded in curiosity.

I was pretty sure if I looked in a mirror, I’d find curiosity on my face too.

We stumbled into this tentative dance with one another, both of us shit at hiding our mutual dangerous interest.

One of us better learn how to put on the brakes. Mayhem didn’t look like she braked for anything—and despite years of discipline where I’d mastered caution, I didn’t want to either.

Shit.

When she turned her attention on the girls again, I let myself watch her despite the Guinness World Record list of reasons why I shouldn’t. Off the clock and off the track she had a softness in her and fuck if I could tear my eyes away.

Acid-washed jeans hugged round hips that moved along with the music pumping through the room. A new song because Jackson had mercy on our souls and dialed back that teenybopper pop playlist. This one, soft and catchy, had Mayhem's brood of beginners mimicking her movements, swaying more with their arms than hips, but their attention off their skates, the hero worship evident with their toothy grins.

The rips in the material stretched across her thighs gave a tantalizing glimpse of the tattoos running up her skin. Covered from the side of her neck, down her arms, over her fingers, and along her thigh made me wonder how many tattoos lay hidden in between.

What was she trying to hide with so much ink?

Or—what was she trying to tell?

I wanted to search over her body and study them all. Graze over them with my fingertips, trace them with my tongue. Memorize their taste with my mouth.

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