Page 46 of Ride or Die

Carter jumps up, hands held in the air in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m goin’,” he mutters, stumbling a little on his feet as he traipses off down the driveway.

After a few long beats, I turn to Taylor. “What the hell, Taylor?”

She at least has the decency to look remorseful, hugging herself tight.

“Clara hired you to look after her kids,” I continue. “Chrissake, Billie’s five years old.”

“I know,” Taylor says with a sob I can’t tell is genuine or not. “I-I’m so sorry. When Carter asked if he could come here, I-I thought it would just be him. We were gonna watch a movie after the kids went to bed.” She shakes her head. “And I know that’s still wrong, and I shouldn’t have said yes, but he’s my boyfriend and I?—”

“I don’t need to know the fuckin’ details,” I interject with a grimace, holding a hand up to stop her. “How the hell did it turn into a goddamn house party?” I kick at the wayward red solo cup by my feet for emphasis.

“Because Carter’s a lyin’ sack o’ shit,” Taylor answers without missing a beat and, honestly, I can’t help but scoff a laugh because at least we agree on something.

With tears of regret brimming in her eyes Taylor turns to Clara. “I’m so sorry, Clara. I know you trusted me, and I… I messed up. I want you to know that I was constantly checkin’ on Billie and Tommy, makin’ sure they were okay. I—” She looks down, sniffling. “There’s nothin’ more to say, but I’m sorry.”

I glance sideways at Clara and not only does she not look pissed, she looks like she’s about to give the damn girl a hug. Honestly, I ain’t surprised. Woman’s got a damn heart of gold.

“It’s okay, Taylor,” Clara says on a resigned sigh, her shoulders sagging.

I roll my eyes, shaking my head because thank fuck I’m here to play bad cop. “You’re not gettin’ paid,” I tell Taylor as if that much ain’t fuckin’ obvious. “And, tomorrow, you and that sorry-asssack o’ shitof yours can come on over here and take away the trash.”

Taylor nods quickly. “We will. I p-promise.”

“Alright, then. Go on, get,” I mutter, turning away from her.

When Taylor’s gone, and the sound of her car fades off into the distance, I heave a sigh, removing my hat and tearing a hand through my hair. When I turn, I find Clara standing with her back to me as she looks out at the trash littered across the yard.

“Fuckin’ kids,” I mutter, only half-serious because it wasn’t that long ago that I was one of them. I can’t even count the number of times I went to a party at someone’s house when their folks were out of town. Just kids being jerk-ass kids.

Clara sniffles and the sound makes the hairs on the back of my neck prick.

“Clara?” I say softly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

Turning to face me, she keeps her gaze cast downwards, but I can see the shimmer of tears glistening her cheeks. I can’tstop myself as I close the distance between us, gripping her shoulders. “Look at me.”

With another sniffle, she does look at me, and I see a torment in her eyes I wasn’t expecting, one that hits me in the center of my chest. “Come on, now, it’s just kids,” I say with a wry smirk. “Billie and Tommy are okay. The mess can be cleaned up. It ain’t worth cryin’ over.”

She shakes her head, looking down again. “No, I know. It’s… not?—”

As if my hand has a mind of its own, I tuck my forefinger beneath her chin, tipping her face up and forcing those pretty eyes to mine. “Why you cryin’?”

She sniffs again, swallowing hard.

“It’s everything.” She scoffs a humorless laugh. “The Stop and Shop. The night Tommy called you. This house. Earlier at the club.This!” She throws her hands up in the air, indicating the yard. “I keep messing up. Makingyourlife harder.” She huffs, covering her face with her hands to stifle her cries. “God, I’m pathetic.”

My brows knit together in a combination of confusion and anger. “Now, I ain’t just gonna stand here and listen to you call yourself that, because first of all it ain’t fuckin’ true.”

Gently, I envelop her wrists, forcing her hands away from her face.

“Everything I do, Cole, I fuck it up,” she whispers through her tears. “And it always seems to end up with me crying on your shoulder, and you saving me, yet again.”

With my hands still clasped around Clara’s wrists, I walk backward to the porch steps, taking a seat and pulling her down to sit. I almost pull her between my legs, almost guide her to perch her ass right here on my thigh, but I know it’s not the time or the place, so I force her next to me—right next to me—her soft body pressed up against mine.

“Look at me.”

Clara wipes her tears with the back of her shaking hand, sniffling again and meeting my gaze, her glassy eyes red-rimmed and heartbreaking.

“You arenotpathetic, darlin’,” I say firmly, because that’s the most important thing I need her to hear right now. “And I need you to believe that, ’cause it’s fact.”