Page 73 of The Wild Card

“That went well,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“My mom loves you. She was asking when you’re coming back even before we left the driveway.”

“Your dad invited me to work on the Camaro.”

She turns to look at me. “He did?”

“Next Sunday.”

“Crew.” Her voice is soft. “He doesn’t invite anyone to work on that car. That’s, like, his sacred space.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

“And Gavin called you a badass. That’s basically a stamp of approval from him.”

I almost smile. Almost.

But the thing cracking open in my chest is widening, and I don’t know how to close it. I don’t know if I want to. And that terrifies me more than anything I’ve faced in the field.

When we get home, I help her out of the car, walk her to the door, and stand in our living room while she kicks off her shoes and stretches.

“That was fun,” she says. “Thanks for being such a good sport. I know my family is a lot.”

“They’re great.”

“Yeah?” She’s watching me, her head tilted. “You okay? You got quiet.”

“I’m fine. Just tired.” I’m already backing toward the hallway. “I’m going to turn in.”

“Oh. Okay.” She looks confused but doesn’t push. “Goodnight, Crew.”

“Goodnight.”

I make it to my room, close the door, and stand there in the dark. My hands are shaking.

I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to want things I’ve never had. I don’t know how to be the guy who shows up on Sundays, works on cars with someone’s dad, and gets hugged by someone’s mom like it’s nothing.

That’s not who I am.

I sit on the edge of my bed, head in my hands, and try to remember how to breathe.

Emmie Marshall is ruining me.

The worst part? I’m starting to think I want her to.

Chapter Seventeen

Pool Day

Crew

Dallas in March is a coin flip. One day it’s forty degrees and raining; the next, it’s eighty-five and sunny, and everyone collectively loses their minds.

Today is the eighty-five and sunny kind.

“Pool day!” Emmie announced this morning, bouncing into the kitchen in a tank top and shorts. “It’s happening. I already texted Sadie.”