Crash & Carnage by Emma Slate
Chapter 18
My alarm wentoff at four the next morning. The loud, high-pitched beep instantly woke me, and my hand shot out to hit the off button.
Boxer groaned. “Alarm clocks are the devil. It’s still dark out.”
“I warned you,” I said, searching for any part of him so I could brush a kiss across his skin. “I told you if you spent the night, I’d be up early.”
“There’s early, then there’s haven’t-gone-to-bed-yet in the morning.”
“Poor Boxer,” I crooned, rubbing my cheek against his whiskered one. “Not all of us can escape being a slave to time.”
“Don’t make fun of me, this is horrible.”
I let out a rueful chuckle and then reluctantly moved out of his warm embrace. Boxer slept naked, which made it a challenge to leave him.
“Don’t follow me into the shower. I can’t be late.”
I crawled out of bed and went slowly toward the bathroom, hoping I didn’t trip over anything. I wasn’t in the shower five minutes before Boxer joined me.
“Reverse psychology,” Boxer said. “I know I was manipulated, but I don’t give a shit. Now bend over. I want you to remember this morning all day at work.”
Somehow, I made it out the door on time. Boxer slid his tall frame into the passenger side of my car, and then I drove us to the hospital where he’d arranged for South Paw to pick him up. I didn’t know if the guy had hauled ass all the way from Waco or if he’d stayed in the Dallas area, just waiting for Boxer to call.
“You guys haze prospects like they’re joining a fraternity,” I commented, wanting to glean a little more about how the club hierarchy operated.
“That’s exactly what we do. It’s a rite of passage for them, and it’s also a chance for us to teach prospects how the club works. It’s not as simple as people think, but when South Paw patches in, he’ll get to treat another prospect the exact same way at some point.”
“Seems sort of antiquated,” I stated.
“Maybe. But this proves that South Paw really has what it takes to be part of the Blue Angels. It’s not an open club. We do reject people from time to time.
“I wouldn’t jump through any of those kinds of hoops. That’s why I never joined a sorority.”
He looked at me. “You didn’t join a sorority?”
“Nope.”
“You seem the sorority girl type, Doc.”
“I don’t know if I should be insulted by that statement or not.”
“No insult intended,” he assured me.
“My mother wanted me to pledge,” I admitted. “I didn’t have time. I was already taking extra classes and focusing on premed. Even if I’d had the time, I wouldn’t have gone that route.”
“Why?”
“Because they want an obscene amount of control over your life. They want you to look a certain way, act a certain way, date certain people. I already grew up in that kind of life. I wasn’t about to subject myself to that again just as I had my first taste of freedom.”
“What was it like? How you grew up?” he asked.
“For someone who’s not a morning person, you’re pretty chatty,” I joked.
“Who said I wasn’t a morning person?”
“You.”
“No. I said I don’t like mornings. I’m pretty chipper in the mornings.”
“Semantics.”
“Linden.”
“Boxer.”
He fell silent for a moment and looked out the window. “My old man was a jazz musician. I told you that.” Boxer looked at me for confirmation.
I nodded, remembering our first date.
“He spent most of his time on the road. When he was home, he’d be fine for a few days. Happy. Excited. A regular family man. And then he’d start to get short tempered. Bickering with Mom. Picking fights. He blamed us for why he had to come home at all.” Boxer smiled, but it was bitter. “He resented us as much as he loved us. Resentment always won, and he showed us just how much he resented us with his fists.”
“Boxer,” I whispered, my heart breaking for him.
He shrugged. “It is what it is. When he was home, I learned to spend a lot of time out of the house. I spent a lot of time at the arcade. Learned how to make my time there last.”
“Pinball,” I said in realization. “That’s why you’re so good.”
“Yup.”
I thought for a moment. “Our childhoods shape us, more than we care to admit. It’s not so easy to let our pasts go, is it?”
“What parts of your past are you still holding onto, Doc?”
My hands clenched the wheel. “My mom, mostly.”
“Yeah?”
“She was always challenging. I mean, she’s not an easy woman to love. Hypercritical. Controlling.” I swallowed. “It got worse after my dad left. She couldn’t stop him from leaving so she became even more rigid and focused all her energy on me. Nothing I did was ever good enough for her. I realized I could never live up to her expectations, so I stopped trying.”
“But you’re a surgeon.”
“Yeah? So?”
“No, I just mean—you’re a surgeon, who’s spent years in school, studying, probably not having a life just so you could excel. Isn’t she proud of you for that?”
“My father’s a surgeon,” I reminded him. “To my mother, it felt like a slap in the face when I chose a similar career path.”
“Enough said.” He shook his head. “Let me guess, she can’t be proud of you because you’re more like him than you are like her, and everything you do reminds her of him.”
“Spot on.” I smiled wryly. “She thinks I did it to spite her. She thinks I did it because I wanted my father’s attention.”
“Did you? Want his attention?”
“I haven’t spoken to him since I was ten. I don’t want or need his attention.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why haven’t you spoken to him? Divorces happen. That’s pretty normal.”
I didn’t say anything, and then I exhaled a long slow breath. “He didn’t just leave my mother and me. He had another family in secret. I have two half-brothers I’ve never even met.”
“Jesus. Are you serious?”
“Yeah. As soon as the ink was dry on his divorce papers to my mom, he married Callie.”
He reached over to touch my thigh and gave it a little squeeze.
“He’s been calling me recently, trying to get in touch,” I admitted. “I’ve ignored his calls.”
“What do you think he wants?”
“No idea. Don’t care, really.” I pulled into the near empty parking lot of the hospital. “What about your mom? Are you close with her?”
“Yeah, we were close.”
I didn’t miss the past tense. “Did she…”
“Die? Yeah. A few years after I patched in.”
I turned off the engine. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She was in a lot of pain. It was better for her.”
I leaned across the car, and he met me halfway. Our lips met, our breaths minty. For the first time, our need for one another wasn’t fueled by lust. It was acceptance and solace. Understanding.
He pulled back and shot me a somber grin. “We know how to have fun, don’t we? Talking about heavy shit before the sun even comes up.”
I sighed and leaned my head back against the seat rest. “That’s new for me. Talking about my parents and family life.”
“Same.”
We got out of the car, and I hit the clicker to lock the doors. As we were heading toward the hospital, I heard the rumble of an engine. Boxer’s truck pulled up to the curb and then idled for a moment.
“What service,” I teased.
Boxer grinned. “You’re gonna be thinking about me all day while you’re at work.”
“Am I?”
Boxer leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “Oh, yeah, you’re gonna miss my mac and cheese and most off all, my great big—”
“Hey, Linden,” Peyton greeted.
I jumped back from Boxer, embarrassed that I’d been so wrapped up in him that I hadn’t heard her approach.
“Hey,” I said, wondering if there was enough light coming from the hospital for her to see my flaming cheeks.
“Nurse Redhead,” Boxer greeted with a flirtatious grin.
“I see you’ve fully recovered. An appendectomy didn’t slow you down at all,” Peyton remarked with a happy smile. “Linden, I’ll see you inside.”
I buried my head against the lapel of Boxer’s leather cut and let out a low laugh. He gently eased my head back so he could press his mouth to mine. It was in no way chaste, but over far sooner than I would’ve liked. He kissed me one more time for final measure and then sauntered toward his truck.
The driver’s side door opened, and South Paw got out. I waved to him and then headed inside the lobby. Peyton was waiting for me, an amused grin on her face. “So, you guys are doing sleepovers.”
“Yeah, I guess we are,” I admitted.
“How did you ever get out of bed this morning?” she demanded.
“Sheer force of will.”