You ride. I ride.

14. Raw

Letty's POV

The car was completely destroyed. What had already been smashed together, Dom had successfully ripped into pieces. It would take a while to fix this masterpiece. Since I was ten I had admired this car.

<flashback>

"Wow," I muttered, looking at the black car in front of me. After seeing it from the street, I couldn't resist but sneak into the garage where it was parked.

"You can't be back here. This is a garage." A bald guy started talking to me. He was about 16 years old, very well built and kind of handsome. I cleared my throat and turned my eyes back to the car.

"Whose is it?" I asked.

"It's my Dad's. It's a-"

"A 1970 Dodge Charger R/T," I interrupted, finishing his sentence. He grinned as he noticed my knowledge of cars.

"900 horses of American muscle."

"She's a beauty," I mutter hoarsely. 

"She?" The guy asked cockily. 

"Don't you think she's a she?" 

The guy frowned. He didn't seem to agree with me. 

"Who's your new friend Dom?" 

"She ain't my friend," he replied grumpily. He was just like the Grinch. But better looking. 

Where the hell did that come from? 

"Ignore Dom. I'm Mister T." 

"Hi, I'm Letty."

"Oh, you must be the new kid from down the street. I met your parents."

"They're not my parents." 

Mr.T frowned. "How about you come over tonight Letticia?" 

"It's Letty, sir."

"You can keep that attitude kid," the 16-year-old spat at me.

"Who are you calling a kid, kid?" I encountered. If he thought he was intimidating he had another thing coming. 

Mr. T just laughed at the two of us. 

<flashback ends> 

I ran my thumb over the hood, admiring the car's elegance. She really was a beauty. I sighed, starting to collect the pieces of shattered glass. 

"Hey," a deep voice muttered weakly. 

"Vince, hey. How are you holding up?" I ask, knowing that Mr T was like a father to him. He shrugged in response. 

"Dom's upstairs with Mia." He nodded weakly, disappearing inside. I sighed. 

This family had been through too much pain. First the loss of Dom's Mother. Then the death of my father and then later my aunt. After that the addiction of my uncle, who then left for rehabilitation and then joined the army. Our lives were a mess. 

-------------------

I put down the plates on the table. Mia's eyes were red and puffy, her voice scratchy. She must have been crying all night. 

"You cooked?" Vince asked, a tiny smile appearing on his lips. 

"I tried," I let out a hopeless chuckle. Vince grimaced as he put a piece of chicken in his mouth. 

"This tastes-" 

"Gross." I finished his sentence, immediately throwing all of it away. I was a terrible cook. Dom and Mia didn't even join our conversation. Both continued to stare into space, lost in thoughts. 

"Vince, go get some pizza."

"I'm not hungry," Dom muttered, disappearing upstairs again. 

"Me neither," Mia agreed, settling on the couch. She curled up in a tiny ball, the blanket covering her shivering body. I sat down next to her, holding her hand. 

------------------

He doesn't even notice as I enter his dark room. I sit down next to him, his eyes still focused on his blank wall. I remember what it was like to lose my father. The feeling of emptiness, mixed together with denial, pain and anger. I reach for Dom's hand. He flinches and snaps out of his stare, squeezing my hand gently. 

We continue to sit in silence, similarly to the last days of this week where he didn't speak much. 

"Thank you," he whispered. I smile. 

"For what?" 

He pauses, creating suspense. "For being an angel." 

I chuckle. This was so cliché. It sounded cheesy. 

"I mean it," he says. "You've been there for Mia and me. You've taken care of Dad's funeral, cooked meals, kept the garage going. And no one even asked you how you are doing." 

He seems to be sincere. Dom always had that twinkle in his eyes when he complimented you. It was as if his only purpose was to talk to you. 

"Are you asking me now?" 

"Yeah, how are you taking it? I know he was like a father to you too." 

I think. Honestly, I had kept myself so busy that I didn't even think about how much I actually missed Mr T's presence. I smile at the thought of him. 

"I don't think he's gone. I keep thinking he'll come around the corner, wearing that goofy smile." 

"They say I have the same smile," he mumbles. 

"You do." 

He smiles. The same smile of Mr T. It's addictive, really. It's contagious. I smile too. 

He reaches out and cups my cheek. For a moment we stare at each other, lost in thoughts. I see our first encounter in the garage. I see the vulnerable Dom that cried the night his mother died. I see the courageous Dom that would sacrifice anything for his family. I see the independent Dom that lives life according to his own rules. I see the strong Dom that held me whilst I was grieving over my uncle. 

I see the young Dom. The mature one. The new one. The better one. I see all the parts of him. To be honest, I love all of them. 

He leans down, our lips meeting. Although my mind was completely blank I somehow managed to scoot away. I didn't want to be used by him. I didn't want to be a tool to cope with his grief. 

"I know you're sad right now. You're vulnerable-" I begin to ramble. 

"I swear. It's not like that." 

Our lips meet again and I don't object. It was a light brush against my lips, continuing for a few seconds, without turning into something deeper and more heated. 

Unlike our other times, it isn't rushed. It isn't filled with heat, lust or passion. It was Dom and Letty. Completely raw. Without the bullshit.