Page 2 of Savage Salvation

“Same as always.” Danielle seems to try to make me feel at home, but I’ve never felt comfortable in the Wagoner house. Her husband’s standoffish demeanor made me uncomfortable when I’d visit with my mom, but afterwards, Steve was even more unfriendly to be around. He never went out of his way to be an ass (like his son), but he’s clearly not thrilled to have another financial burden around, either.

“Then stay at my place. I’m really sick and tired of offering and you not taking me up on the fabulous deal. Bed, shower, good food … great company.” Isaac flashes his perfectly straight, white-toothed smile my way. And I’m grateful that I have him.

“Thanks, but you know Johnny said I can sleep at the store anytime.” I doubt he meant every night, but that’s what it’s been lately. I basically go to the Wagoners’ to shower and get clean clothes. Sometimes, I even bypass going to the house completely by showering at school and utilizing the laundry mat.

“I guarantee the guest bed is much more comfortable than that ancient mattress Johnny has in the storage room of his music shop.”

“It is.” Because I’ve slept on both. Isaac’s guest bedroom wins hands down over the creaky-springed twin mattress that’s probably older than me. But Isaac’s mom wasn’t thrilled with me sleeping in her home. More than likely, she worried about me slipping into her son’s bed. That wouldn’t happen since Isaac and I are just friends, but I don’t think she’s convinced. “It’s just easier to crash there after my shift.” Which is true since it’s usually late and especially since my car has been out of commission the last week. “Any news on my car?”

“Yep. It’ll be ready Monday.”

“That’s good news.” And it is, but I brace myself as I ask the next question. “How much are the repairs?” It’s not like I have a choice, but hopefully it’s not more than I can swing.

“Not much.” Isaac brushes off the question.

If I allowed myself to get close to anyone, it would be with Isaac. There’s a part of me that tries to not form any attachments, both because I know what it feels like to lose them and because I know I won’t be here after graduation. So I’ll lose him anyways. But he’s the closest person I have to any semblance of family, only he has a completely different situation than me, i.e., loaded parents.

“How much is ‘not much’?” Because his not much and my not much are two entirely different amounts.

His head turns away, glancing out the side window before refocusing out the windshield on the road ahead.

“Isaac.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” I draw out the question, studying his unease. It’s bad. Only I don’t know how bad because he’s tightlipped—which is super unlike his usual self. “Just tell me.”

“It’s your birthday tomorrow, and I knew Danielle wouldn’t cover it for you.”

“You didn’t.” It’s not the amount he’s worried about telling me. “You’re not paying for it, Isaac.”

“Consider it a birthday gift.”

The only thing I want for my birthday is for my mom to show up and tell me her death was nothing but a nightmare that’s over now. Glancing out the passenger window, I recognize a losing battle when I see one; I fight them every day. “I hadn’t even told you yet that Danielle said she wasn’t gonna cover it. How much was it?”

“Yeah, you didn’t have to. If it’s not Ryan’s car, I knew it would be ‘too much’ for her to fork over. But really, Kinsley, I told you it wasn’t much.”

“Not much for you. But it’s a lot for me, right? I don’t want you paying for it out of guilt.”

“Guilt?” Isaac laughs, shifting in his seat as he tugs at his navy slacks. “The only guilt I have is that you won’t let me replace that piece of shit car with a new one.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my car.” I attempt to sound stern but it’s stupid to argue. “Usually, it’s fine and dependable. There’re a few kinks I’m still working out, but it’s my car and I don’t want to owe anyone anything.”

“Fine. Speaking of kinks, I know a way you can repay me.” Isaac flashes his charming, heart-melting smile that would be effective if I’d allow myself to go there. Thankfully, my defenses are fully intact.

“I’m not giving you a blow job or any sexual payment.”

He full-on laughs, reaching over and giving my bare thigh a playful squeeze. “While I wouldn’t pass on a BJ, that’s not what I’m talking about. Although, you might reconsider your stance on sexual favors when I tell you.”

“What is it?” My arms fold across my chest as he removes his hand from my thigh and grabs the steering wheel. His touch doesn’t make me uncomfortable, but it feels out of place.

“We haven’t been able to find a guitarist yet. And we’re booked for a show tomorrow night.”

“Seriously?” This, I expected. “I told you I can’t play every show and y’all would need to find someone.”

“We’ve tried. Trust me. No one can shred like you, though. Even the other guys say no one is as good as you.” His beaming smile turns into a pleading expression. “Please, Kins. You know the set list, and the guys love you.”

“Yeah. That’s because I’m constantly bailing y’all dumbasses out of a jam.” As in, playing with their band, Wicked Riot, for the last dozen or more shows.