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“It’s fine,” I assure her. “Just a dented fender. The tow truck will be here in thirty minutes, according to this app. I’ll deliver the stuff that was in the van if you give me the addresses.”
Luna looks worried. “Brady should be seen in the ER.”
“I’ll take him if you can wait for the tow truck. What time does the cake need to be delivered?”
“Not until two.” Luna bites her lip. “Are you sure, Cam? I can probably take Brady and still have time…”
She doesn’t have time to do both and we know that. I take her hand. “You don’t always have to be the capable one, you know. It’s not a flaw to accept help, sweetheart. It actually shows you’re strong enough to admit when you need it.”
Her gaze softens. “Okay. You’re right.”
Brady protests. “I’m fine. It’s barely anything.”
“Hush,” Lori tells him.
My thoughts exactly. “Come on,” I tell him. “If you’re fine, you can sit in the car for an hour while I make deliveries.”
“Thank you,” Luna says, going on her tiptoes to give me a kiss. “I hope you didn’t have plans today.”
I actually have plans to hit the gym and meet my friend Rodan for lunch, but he’ll understand. I shake my head. “No plans.”
Luna tilts her head and studies me. “You’re lying,” she says, thoughtfully. “I can read you.”
“No one can read me,” I tell her, flatly. “I’m a stone wall.”
It’s true. Normally. But she can see through me.
And I find that incredibly satisfying.
Luna laughs softly and whispers in my ear, “I love you, too, you big liar. You had plans.”
Right then and there, I know I would do anything for this girl. She both challenges me and she accepts me. Exactly as I am. Cameron no-middle-name Bach, flawed and perpetually pragmatic.
There are no walls with her.
And there doesn’t have to be.
“I’ll text you the tow truck information.” I brush her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll let you know when we’re at the ER. And I’ll call Owen.”
Even though I’m pissed at him for hurting Luna.
She makes a face. “He’s going to freak out.”
“Do not tell my dad,” Brady says, looking panicked. “He’ll call my mom and it will be a whole thing.”
“We’ll call Owen,” I assure Luna.
Brady rolls his eyes.
We leave with assurances we’ll get the deliveries done and then we’re in the car, Brady grumbling.
“You don’t have to tell my dad.”
“I’m not going to take you to the ER and not tell your father.” I glance in the rearview mirror before I pull away from the curb.
“You don’t have to take me to the ER.”
I don’t bother responding. I was a sixteen-year-old boy once. Arguing is futile.
