I got to my truck and shoved her inside, strapping her in despite her being spitting mad.
What she was not doing was being too convincing.
Someone who didn’t want to be there would be kicking, punching, and scratching. Maybe even biting.
She was doing none of those things.
She was, however, giving me the silent treatment now.
I got the belt buckled, then flicked the lock on the door that would keep her from opening it from the inside.
The moment I got it closed and walked around the truck, she tried the door.
I grinned at her through the windshield.
She flipped me off.
“Hey, asshole,” Pendelton’s kid snarled. “I said let her go.”
I ignored him and rounded my truck.
Getting inside, I glanced at him one more time before pulling out.
I didn’t go far.
When I pulled up at my house half a minute later, she still hadn’t said a word.
Getting out once I was in my drive, I circled the hood and opened her door.
She sat stubbornly silent as she stared at the dashboard like it held state secrets.
I spotted her phone sticking out of her bag, and I snatched it up and put in the code I saw her typing in a few times.
When her phone opened, I blinked at the background that I saw.
The wake screen had been a photo of her and Wendy.
But the actual phone’s screen was a photo of…me.
I was straddling my bike at a light. It was taken from the back. My hands were on the handlebars, my face slightly turned to the left. And you could see me in profile.
But the best part was in my rearview mirror, you could see her in it flipping me off.
It was fucking hilarious.
I typed in my number and set it as “My everything.”
I dialed my number from her phone and called myself, then tucked the phone back into her purse.
Leaving her purse in the truck, I hefted Constance into my arms and took her inside.
“The code to get into my house is 102320.”
Her breath hissed in like I’d punched her.
“What?”
“That’s Wendy’s birthday,” she whispered. “And mine.”
