Page 83 of False Start

And bitchy.

They thought I needed to get fucked.

But really, I needed to unclench. I was wound so fucking tight I might snap, a completely new sensation for me.

Okay, they also thought the prescription for that was a good seven inches or so of girthy goodness—and they were probably right.

With every bit of control I gained on this track, I lost control over something else. I’d become so fucking disgruntled and short with everyone, even Milton and Gerald had stopped making jokes and prodding each other. Instead, they stopped in for breakfast like their hour there was obligatory, and grumbled into their coffees over my recent lack of charm.

Apparently, they didn’t appreciate my new prison guard energy.

But I didn’t know how to let go of it and I had to guard my heart.

Though silent, I’d catch Priest watching me, not the judgmental kind of stare from the first night I saw him, but something else.

Dejected and grim, but with flashes of longing so fucking cutting I’d forget to breathe.

I’d spot it, he’d blink, and it would be gone, or he’d turn away, his focus needed elsewhere. Even though he spent a fair amount of time on that track with us, he held himself apart from us—from me—ever since that night at Banked Track.

I didn’t like it.

I didn’t know how to change it.

And my every instinct begged me to roll right off the track and wrap my arms around him—only I knew I couldn’t.

When I’d finally let myself look away from him and return my attention to the team, I’d find Eve watching me, her face hollow. Her mouth tight.

I found myself searching out Tilly of all people. When I found her, she’d look at me with a blank stare, hence her new cyborg status, something I found a whole lot more uncomfortable than her attitude. At least I knew what she was thinking when she was attacking me.

This whole blank look came straight out of horror movies, for fuck’s sake.

And now she’d flipped the script and done something nice, which only felt more sinister.

I didn’t know when our showdown was coming, but it had to be coming. Right?

Or maybe she was trying and I was the asshole here.

I couldn’t tell anymore. All I knew was we were getting better, but nothing was right. Not one damn thing.

The void in her eyes—the one she’d just aimed my way for the hundredth time this week—had my nerves stretched so tight, I had to get out of here before I snapped.

Even if for just a few minutes.

I skated off the track straight to the bench and yanked on my laces.

“What are you doing?” Priest asked, skating right up to me.

I flicked him a glance. “I need break.”

Hands on his hips, he glowered down at me. “You just had a break.”

I straightened and kicked off my skate. “Goddammit, Priest…back off.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“God, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered as my phone started to vibrate again with another bullshit call. I slipped it from my duffel, but didn’t recognize the number, and tossed it back into my bag as I kicked off my second skate. “I need one damn minute where I’m not under a fucking microscope. If you’ve got a problem with that, you’re going to have to pin me to this fucking floor and force these skates back on my feet. Unless you’re prepared to do so, back off.”

I shot up to my feet and he jumped back, his eyes widened and his head jerking back.

“Yeah, I thought you’d see it my way,” I said, jamming my sleeves into my jacket. Here I was, ready to stand up for myself, practically vibrating to take someone on, and all of a sudden, I had all the space in the world and none of these fuckers were giving me any material to work with.

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