It’s because you know he loves you enough to always pull back, if you need it. That’s why. You can let go with him; you forget worrying about literally anything.

Aaron cracks a hand against my ass and then squeezes the flesh with his hot fingers. On his arm, he bears a tattoo with my name, a fact that I can’t stop thinking about as he drives me into me hard and fast. The car creaks with our movements, helping to hide the wet sound of our bodies joining together.

“So fucking pretty, Bernie,” he purrs, sliding his hand up and under my shirt again. He pinches my nipple, tweaking it and yanking on it until I cry out in ecstasy. “So pretty.” Aaron pulls back slightly and then cracks my ass with his hand again; he groans as my body clenches around his. “Do you like getting spanked?” he asks me, slowing his movements, so he can lean forward and put his palm on the window, right over the top of mine. With his other hand, he kneads my breast again. “Do you, Bernie?”

“Only when you do it,” I murmur back, because I cannot for the life of me imagine any of the other guys doing this without me going into a rage. “Only you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Aaron responds, voice thick with heat and need. He kisses down the side of my neck, his body pressed up against the length of mine, fingers still flicking and twisting my nipple. With my left hand, I keep myself propped up, but with my right, I reach back and grab at him, yanking on his chestnut hair.

Those lips of his, I take great pleasure in knowing they only belong to me, that they have always only belonged to me. He saved himself, I think, but before I get a chance to think he’s too nice of a boy, he spanks me again and then bites my neck so hard that I see stars.

“Tell me you’d choose me, Bernie, even if it’s a lie,” Aaron breathes, and I’m helpless to resist his pull. No … no, that’s not it. I’m not helpless. I have never been helpless. I want to give into him because I love him. That’s the long and short of it, really. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe our relationships are all toxic, but I feel like what we have here is significantly less toxic than the world at large.

“I’d choose you,” I tell him as he fucks me into an early climax, and then uses the pulsing of my body to find his own. When Aaron moans and fills me with his cum, it’s a glorious moment. If anyone were going to get a baby from me, it’d be him.

We stay joined together for far longer than is really necessary, neither of us wanting to move and break the spell of the moment. He’s the one who actually finds his head first.

Aaron does his best to untangle himself from me, collapsing into the opposite corner as I struggle to turn around, pants wrapped around my legs. We stare at each other from across the seat, breathing hard and soaked in sweat. He puts his hand to his face, elbow resting on the door, tatted fingers digging into his hair. The smile he gives me is all good-boy-turned-bad, and I’m living for it.

“Bernie,” he says, and then he just starts to laugh. I push up from where I’m sitting and crawl over to him, falling into his arms. Aaron bands his right arm around my waist and hugs me close, putting his lips to my hair as his body shakes with more laughter.

“Aaron …” I start, burying my face against the side of his neck. And then I start to laugh, too. Because this is where we were always meant to end up, me and him. Fucking in the backseat of an old car at a drive-in while our shakes melt and our fries get cold. This, right here, is everything to me.

Me and Aaron.

“You were well worth the wait,” he whispers against my hair, and I snort.

“I could say the same to you,” I murmur as he wraps his fingers in my hair and encourages me to pull my head back for a kiss. Our mouths meet, and I swear to god, he tastes like happy endings and heartbreak both at the same time. “Don’t you dare leave me again, Aaron Fadler,” I warn him, touching the side of his face as he turns to press his lips against my palm. “I mean it.”

“If I have any control over my fate, Bernadette Blackbird, I promise that I’ll never leave you again.”

Aaron and I take our time smoking a joint and eating our food. We even put in another order for dessert, and our bitchy ass waitress brings over two sundaes shoved into plastic cups and covered in molten hot fudge.

“I think I burned my tongue off,” Aaron tells me, glancing my way as he starts up the Bronco. I grin back at him as I dig at the bottom of my cup for the last few nibbles of peanuts and ice cream. “But it was worth it.”

“So worth it,” I agree, trying to keep my face neutral. “And I don’t just mean the sundaes and the fudge. I’m in desperate need of a shower.” Aaron chuckles at me, his gaze sweeping over me as I glance back at him. We are not done tonight, not even close.

Victor stays the whole time, sitting on one of the picnic tables in front of the spot where his bike is parked. Pretty sure he’s watching over us which, unsurprisingly, makes me like him more. He leaves me and Aaron alone; he keeps watch.

That’s how Havoc is supposed to fucking work.

We might actually be able to wing this thing, huh?

Vic doesn’t bother to get on his bike and leave until he sees we’re doing the same.

Aaron brings the Bronco to a stop at the edge of the parking lot and then pauses, turning his head to look left, out his partially cracked window.

“What the actual fuck?” he asks as I crane my neck to see what he’s staring at. “Is that the Thing’s partner?” Aaron takes his time at the stop sign, and the other cars behind us wait their fucking turn.

They know who the ‘96 Ford Bronco belongs to.

I set my empty ice cream cup in the cup holder and then scoot forward for a better look.

Sure enough, there’s Sara Young, unmistakable with her bright blond hair and petite white face. She’s sitting in a maroon-colored Subaru with the headlights off, eating a burger. She’s not looking at us right now, but I can’t imagine a cop who lives in the Fuller area of Springfield goes out of her way to visit the southside grease pit known as Wesley’s.

Trust me.

If a cop started frequenting this place, we would all know.

“Do you think she’s following us?” I ask, but Aaron just turns back to the windshield with his lips pursed into a thin line. He says nothing as we very carefully pull out of the parking lot and onto the dirt road that cuts between two empty pieces of property. I saw the word property very loosely; these lots are nothing but shrubs, broken glass bottles, and graffiti proclaiming this to be Havoc territory.

“I would say …” Aaron starts as we finally hit the paved road that leads back into the suburbs between Fuller and Prescott where his house is. Headlights turn behind us, keeping a careful distance. It’s the motherfucking Subaru. “Yes. Jesus fucking Christ. Call Vic.”

I pull my phone out and dial up our fearless leader.

He doesn’t answer on the first ring—probably because he’s on the Harley. But he calls me back less than a minute later.

“Talk to me, baby,” he says, making my stomach muscles tighten in appreciation of that rumbling voice.

“We need to untangle a mare’s nest,” I say carefully, unsure as to how much I should say here. There are plenty of ways for someone to pick up on our phone conversation if they really wanted to. “And we need to do it before we get home.” I’m hoping he catches the meaning in my words as I lick my lips. They still taste like Aaron, like cherry cola and teenage fucking dreams. “Anything you need from the store before we get there?”