“I reckon,” he says, closing it the rest of the way. He lifts it onto the floor. It weighs a metric crap-ton.
“I know we’ve talked about this. And I know he’ll never ask for it. But … do you think I should pay Cletus back for the cash he lost? Julio found out yesterday that because it was confiscated and involved in a crime, the money wouldn’t be returned to him.”
Every time Arden thinks he can move on from what happened it seems something else is brought up about it. He wonders whether there will ever be a time when he can look back and simply remember what happened, instead of always feeling like he’s still in the middle of it.
Arden leans against her dresser, feeling like a giant in this tiny space. “Cletus is a millionaire several times over. Twenty grand is nothing to him.”
“But he’s a man of principle. On principle, I should pay him back.”
“Tell you what. You scratch and save and pinch every penny, then present him with a check for twenty grand. When he laughs in your face, then go buy a car with it. How does that sound?”
She grins. “Can you believe that by the end of the day we’ll be in Mexico?” Her lip gloss is especially tantalizing at the moment. He sits next to her on the bed, and they lie back. She nestles into the crook of his arm, resting her head on his chest. Nothing in the world could destroy his peace right now. Carly will finally be reunited with her family. He’ll get to spend that special moment with her. Life is amazing.
“What did your coach say about you missing football practice while we’re gone?” she says.
He scoffs. “He told me to have a good time. What else is he going to say? That I can’t go?” The truth is, Coach Nelson wasn’t happy about him taking time off during summer practice. But Arden figures someone else can have the limelight this year. Next year, when he’s a senior, he’ll crack down on his game.
He can’t help but think how ironic it is, that his dad is the reason he’s back on the team, and now he’s not here to see him play—something his father genuinely enjoyed doing. What if it was something they could have reconnected over? Something that would have made them reexamine their relationship at the most basic level and start again?
It’s highly doubtful, he knows. His dad is a prick through and through. A horrible father. A horrible husband. A horrible human being, really. But the “what if” part is lost to Arden forever now. Could a man like his dad ever really change? Six months ago, Arden would have said no. But when his father was arrested, when Deputy Glass came to pick up the mighty Dwayne Moss and put him in handcuffs, hauling him to the back of a cop car, Arden saw his father’s face. It had been full of shame.
But maybe it’s like Deputy Glass—who is now running for sheriff—always says, “They’re never truly sorry. They’re just sorry they got caught.”
Arden supposes only time will tell. And he’s okay to leave it at that. Because time is what he’s got. That, and Carly.
“Did you get all your homework done and turned in?” Carly is saying, oblivious to his line of thought. “You can’t let your grades slip, if you’re serious about this football scholarship thing. Plus you’ve got to get into honors classes next year, in case football doesn’t work out.”
“Football is going to work out. But, yes, Mother, I did get all my homework done. You should have seen Mr. Tucker’s face when I handed it in. I thought he might pass out.”
She giggles. “He asked me if I was cheating for you, you know.”
“That guy hates me.”
“He’s just wondering why you’re bothering to pass his class all of a sudden.”
Arden hoists himself onto his elbow so he can look down at her. He’ll never get over those lashes of hers. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.” A lie. He knows exactly the reason he’s bothered to do anything productive these last months. Why he’s stopped feeling the need to go pranking, why he’s been doing his homework, why he’s been sleeping at night. And he’s looking right at her. This amazing, stabilizing force to be reckoned with, all wrapped up in this deliciously curvy body.
Her gaze lingers on his lips. It’s almost too tempting, not to kiss her. She knows exactly what that look does to him. “And what have you decided?” she says, sucking in her breath.
He lowers his head, until their noses almost touch. “That I have a reason to live again. Not just exist. To actually live.” He lets his mouth brush against hers, once, twice. “Do I have you, Carly?” he whispers. “Do I have you like you have me?”
“Always,” she whispers back.
And it’s all he needs to hear.
Acknowledgments
I couldn’t have done this without my agent/cheerleader/psychiatrist, Lucy Carson. Actually, I’m beginning to realize I can’t do anything without her. Even like, shop for pajamas and stuff. As in, “Would these pajamas benefit my book deadline or would they be too stiff and require extra laundering, and therefore, time? What would Lucy do?”
This book (and all of my books thus far) would be a complete and utter failure without my editor/cheerleader/voice of reason, Liz Szabla. Y’all, she leaves notes in the margin like “Um, ew!” and she prevents me from saying inappropriate things about tentacles and keeps the Sasquatch references to a minimum. You guys owe her. Trust me on this.
My work would be steaming crap without my critique partners, Heather Rebel and Kaylyn Witt. They keep me in line, which is not an easy task. They mark up my pages during our critique sessions and call me out when I’m being a pansy or just a plain lazy writer. They endure my morning coffee breath and still sit with me at the café even when I’ve forgotten to brush my hair.
Many, many, many thanks to who I call the Dream Team, Rich Deas and Anna Booth. They are the geniuses behind my amazing book covers and this one just might be my favorite. After reading the book, you can see just how much they captured the essence of it in the cover. Great job, you two.
I’ve come to realize I wouldn’t be Anna Banks without my publicity team. Molly, Mary, Caitlin, Liz, Nicole—what would I be without you? I will never, ever be able to repay you for all you’ve done for me. Thank you, times infinity.
Last, and certainly not least in any way, shape, or form, thank you to my readers and fans. I wouldn’t be writing these acknowledgments at all if it weren’t for you. Thank you to all the book bloggers who spread the word about my work. I lub you guys. Thank you to the librarians who work tirelessly to reach teen readers and thank you to all the teachers who do the same to promote literacy in school.
You all rock. Don’t let anyone tell you different.
Love,
Anna
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About the Author
Anna Banks is the author of the New York Times-bestselling Syrena Legacy —OF POSEIDON, OF TRITON, OF NEPTUNE. She lives in Crestview, on the Florida Panhandle, with her husband and their daughter. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Ninete
en
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK
An Imprint of Macmillan
JOYRIDE. Copyright © 2015 by Anna Banks. All rights reserved. For information, address Feiwel and Friends, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to
[email protected].
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available
ISBN: 978-1-250-03961-3 (hardcover) / 978-1-250-07905-3 (ebook)
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
First Edition: 2015
macteenbooks.com
eISBN: 9781250079053
Anna Banks, Joyride
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