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“Tire?”

“Yeah.”

He eyes my hands for several long moments before stepping out, letting the door shut behind him.

As he nears, I glance down at my phone, making sure the backside is facing up.

A frown marring his features, he saunters right up to me, and asks, “Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I was about to,” I lie. “Uh, can you give me a ride? Please.”

“You don’t have to ask for that. You don’t have to ask me for anything. I’ll do anything for you.”

The intensity in his gaze has me squirming in place.

“Even fix a flat tire?” I joke.

Finally, that hard face softens and he smirks.

“If I knew how.”

It takes him a second to pull his eyes off mine though. Bending over, he examines the flat tire.

Graham sticks his head out. “Car trouble?”

Instinctively, I take a step away from Khaos.

“Kind of. One of my tires is flat.”

“Oh no,” he says, joining us. “That’s inconvenient.”

Khaos straightens, somehow wearing an even deeper frown. Thankfully, he doesn’t pin it on me, only keeps it aimed at my tire. It is pretty bad. I must’ve driven over a nail last night. I wish my car would’ve alerted me then that something was wrong. I would’ve had more time to figure out what to do about it.

“Very,” I tell Graham with as little sarcasm as possible.

“Your sister’s lucky you’re here to save the day.” He pats his son on the back.

How is he saving the day? He just admitted to not being able to help.

Crossing his ripped arms, Khaos grits, “She’s not my sister.”

“Stepsister,” Graham amends with a grin.

I eye both men, feeling a tension that wasn’t here a minute ago.

Khaos rarely talks about his dad, but the few times he has, he didn’t say anything bad about him. Not intentionally anyway. I still don’t know what to make of that Chuck E. Cheese story. I understand white lies to protect kids, but that sounded like straight up deception. And for what?

“I just need him to drive me to camp. I’ll see if I can hire a tow truck during one of my breaks to—”

“Is that who you were calling?” Khaos asks, relocating that scrutinous stare to me.

My mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Graham saves me from having to lie again. “A tow truck? You don’t need a tow truck.”

“It’s undrivable,” I point out, this time keeping the sarcastic bite. I’m as far from a motorhead as there is, but even I know this car can’t be driven in its current state.

“Don’t you have a spare?”