Page 9 of Shade
It’s for the best, right?
At least I tell myself that the entire way to LAX. Only I can’t stop my mind from racing. What if I pushed her too far? Can I handle not having her in my life in some way? Can she handle me not being in hers?
I don’t know the answers to any of those questions.
Remember when I said I’d be twenty minutes?
I lied.
Nowhere in LA takes twenty minutes. It’s more like two hours. If you’re lucky.
I meet Willa and Tiller, my brother, at the airport just as the plane is boarding to Seattle. I sneak past a handful of passengers when I spot Tiller’s tall yet lanky frame come into view and his mess of dark hair he’s wearing artfully sculpted into a Mohawk today.
Falling into line behind them, I act as if I’ve been there the entire time and smile.
Willa turns around to eye me, looking like she wants to murder me.
My smile widens. “Miss me?” I wink, trying to be cute. Unfortunately for me, my winks stopped working on Willa a long time ago. Probably after the first one.
Willa’s wide-set amber eyes narrow immediately. I’m mentally preparing myself for her to skin me for being late, but she says nothing and turns on her heel to face forward.
Okay, so now we’re on silent treatment.
Nothing new. Willa once didn’t talk to me for fourteen hours while we were on a plane. Believe me, I triedeverythingto get her to talk, but she wouldn’t crack. Did I mention I hate when people ignore me?
Only now, I’m actually looking forward to nobody talking to me for the flight to Seattle. I could use the quiet.
The captain greets us at the door to the airplane, exchanging handshakes with me, excited to know he has two celebrities flying in first class. Looking at us, you wouldn’t think we’re celebrities, but in the world of FMX racing, we’re pretty much a big deal.
“Thank you for flying with us today.” The captain shakes my hand and then pats my shoulder. “It’s always nice to have the Sawyer brothers on board.”
Clearly he’s talking about me and not Tiller. You got a quick glimpse of Tiller from behind but just wait until you actually meet him. It’s coming in just a minute.
I offer the captain a thank-you and a smile, I’m the polite one of the three Sawyer brothers. While the older, much scarier Tiller gives a mystified glance over his shoulder at me, probably wondering why the captain’s trying to shake his hand.
Take a look at Tiller Sawyer, aka, Wild Cat. Standing about six feet tall and intimidating as fuck. It’s best to keep your distance. He’s called Wild Cat more for his temper than his ability on a bike.
If you ever saw Tiller on a bike, he’s a man who’d do anything to put on a show. Off the bike, he’s completely different. You wouldn’t think he’s the same guy once the helmet’s off. Beneath the tough exterior he displays, Tiller is shy and quite private. I don’t know a goddamn thing about him, and he’s my brother.
When we take our seats, Willa glares at me, again. I look at her and then Tiller seated next to the window on the other side of us. He couldn’t care less what’s going on around him, just that people leave him alone.
Behind us in the second row, Carl takes his seat and immediately digs out his laptop from his bag. Carl’s the head of our security team. Anytime we travel, Carl and his boys come with us. Since it’s a short trip this time, it’s just Carl. He occupies the seat behind Tiller next to the window, his broad shoulders filling up the entire seat, a set scowl plastered on his dark face as he stares down at his laptop.
When my brothers and I are in Pasadena, Carl leaves us alone. It’s when we travel we run into trouble. Well, mostly because of my partying and Tiller’s temperament, but that can’t be proven to be a problem if you ask us.
I’m the youngest of the three Sawyer brothers. Tiller’s the middle one and Roan, he’s the oldest, but we’re all within three years of one another. Parents were busy for a few years.
We were raised by my Uncle Ricky, who took us in after the tragic death of our dad during a motocross race in Baha. He died of a brain aneurysm while racing a super moto. I was only four at the time, but I think in theory, I remember him. I have the image ingrained in me rather than Dawson Sawyer personally. He was a legend in motocross, so I’ve basically heard about his life through others and in countless magazine articles written about him since his death.
Our mom, she left when I was one. Haven’t heard from her since. Ricky thinks she’s dead but we really have no idea, and I don’t care what her reasoning was. Any woman who could leave her three kids under five years old is a bitch if you ask me.
“Nothing like getting here the last minute,” Willa mumbles, buckling her seatbelt, finally speaking to me.
My brow knits together. “I made it,didn’t I?” I shoot back in annoyance.
I know I shouldn’t be a jerk since she’s constantly covering for me, but I’m still on edge from the argument with Rhya. You didn’t think I forgot about Rhya that quickly, did you?
The look Willa offers me is as if I’ve slapped her across the face and I’ve lost my damn mind as she stares back at me. “Since when do you ever talk to me like that?”
