“I don’t know. Just wondering.” She shrugs, which means there is way more motive behind it than she’s letting on.

“I seem to remember you being a shitty driver.” She’d wrecked her brother’s car when he taught her how to drive. He’d raged over that for weeks, if not months.

“If you’re talking about Danny’s stupid Bronco, then fine, yes. I suck. I’m a terrible driver.” She pauses for only a moment. “I was freaking fifteen, what do you expect?”

I chuckle, surprised I can still do it. Laugh. It’s been tense around here lately and I hate it. “He never let you live it down.”

“He probably still wouldn’t.” She clamps her lips shut, as if she doesn’t want to say anything else, and I remain quiet, not willing to talk anymore about Danny either.

It’s too damn painful.

Everything had been left hanging between my best friend and me. We’d argued about my not joining the military. I told him he was stupid to do it without me. I’d been so angry that he’d lost the chance to come with me and start a business together, I hadn’t even bothered to see him off when he left. Only after he was gone did I have the balls to email him and tell him I was sorry. We’d chatted, we’d emailed, but it had never been the same. In one of our last conversations, he made me swear to watch over his sister if anything happened to him. I promised I would.

Soon after, he was gone.

“You haven’t answered me.” Pausing, she worries her lip with her teeth. I’d really love to worry that sexy, pouty lip with my teeth. Shit. “Would you let me borrow your car?”

“Well, is it an emergency?”

“Um . . . sort of?” Now she sounds way too unsure for me to believe her.

“A planned emergency? Because there’s no such thing.” I slow and turn right onto the street that leads into my neighborhood, my gaze drifting across the rows of beautiful houses, the perfectly manicured lawns, the expensive cars sitting in the driveway or parked out front along the curb. I love this damn neighborhood. It’s one of the better ones in town and nothing like the place where I grew up.

This is the sort of neighborhood you see in commercials, on TV, in the movies. I used to live on a dirt road when I was a kid, my mom’s little house nothing more than a shack. The roof was full of leaks and the floor was all uneven, with creaky floorboards and torn linoleum, and the one bathroom was no bigger than a closet and had a shower, no tub. No real yard, freaking chickens wandering around among the dirt and the weeds, crapping wherever they wanted. The very definition of rustic. I’d hated it.

Got the hell away from it, too. Never went back, much to my mom’s irritation. Last time I talked to her, she accused me of behaving exactly like my father.

I could only silently agree. Then I immediately felt guilty and mailed her a check the next day. Put her in a new house too a few years ago, one she complains about frequently. She missed the old house, the one she grew up in, so it must have had sentimental value.

Personally, I wanted to mow it down with a giant tractor, but she wouldn’t let me. So it sits empty. Probably overrun with mice, squirrels, and raccoons by now.

“Fine.” She huffs out a sigh, full of irritation. “I need a ride to Sacramento. Not that I can ask you for one because that would be beyond tacky. So I was hoping I could borrow your car for the day.”

She’s insane. Like I’d let her drive my car in an unfamiliar area. And her asking to borrow my car is tacky. I know where she’s coming from, but I want to hear her explain it. “Why can’t you ask me to drive you there?”

“Um, because I’m essentially ditching the home and the job you’ve so generously offered me for the great, wild unknown?” She laughs, sounding almost . . . manic.

Clearly, she’s stressed the f**k out. I’m ready to join her club.

“I’m still your friend, Jen. You’ve done so much for me. It’s the least I could do for you,” I say quietly as I turn onto my street.

More laughter comes from her, though there’s not much humor in the sound. “I’ve done so much for you? Who are you kidding? You sacrifice everything for me. Always. You’re my knight in shining armor, running to my rescue. What do I ever do for you?”

You’re just . . . there. Holding me in my bed when I wake up shaking and crying from my shitty nightmares. Never judging me, never asking too many questions. I wish I could tell you this. I wish I were brave enough to tell you how I really feel. More than anything, I wish I could tell you all my secrets.

I shake the words from my head. I can’t say them now. I can’t say them . . . ever.

“I’ll take you to Sacramento.” I hit the garage door opener as I pull into my driveway, easing into the garage and shutting off the engine like I do every other night.

But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, Jen’s looking at me as though I’ve lost my damn mind, those pretty dark eyes of hers eating me up. Probably wondering what the hell’s wrong with me.

I wonder what the hell’s wrong with me too.

“You shouldn’t.”

I turn to face her straight on, my gaze clashing with hers. “Why? What’s the big deal?”

She licks her lips, making them shiny and drawing my attention to them. Fuck it all, I want to kiss her. Forget the past, forget the present, forget the scary-as-hell future—I just want to lean over the center console and press my lips to hers. Steal her breath, steal her thoughts, steal her heart.