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RIVER: I hate this.
ME: I love you.
My thumb hovers over the SEND button for several seconds as I stare at the words on the screen, a jolt of shock radiating through me. I typed them without thought, my honest reaction to the pain and longing in his text, but as I gaze at them, unblinking, certainty settles into my soul.
Oh. Fuck.
They’re true.
I didn’t mean for it to happen, and I don’t know how it happened so suddenly and completely, but I’ve fallen hard for the four boys who rampaged into my life, tore it apart, and then dedicated themselves to helping me rebuild it.
I love River for his sweetness and his strength, his intelligence and his ability to see right through me, always.
But I can’t tell him that now. Not over text, and not when everything is so fucked up. Not when my head is throbbing and I feel like I’m about to barf.
Not until I allow myself to fully believe this thing between all of us is real.
My thumb moves up to the ERASE button, and I delete the message, tapping out a new one instead.
ME: I know. I do too. But still, thank you.
“Is someone coming for you, Miss? Do you need a tow truck?”
The old man is still standing by my open passenger door. He’s popped his collar against the gusts of wind, and there’s a thin dusting of snow covering his hat. It matches the hair sticking out from underneath the dark wool.
I look up at him, finally able to take in his appearance now that my mind is less hazy.
“Someone’s coming,” I say. “Thank you for stopping, but I’m okay now. I’ll call a tow truck and wait.”
He squints, scrunching up his whole face as he does. His wrinkles are deep, and his cheeks are flushed pink from the cold.
“Well, I don’t feel right about just leaving you. I’ll tell you what. I’ll wait with you until they get here, okay?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him no, that I don’t need him to babysit me—but then I remember why I wrecked the car in the first place. I don’t think Judge Hollowell followed me at all, but just in case he does, having a witness nearby could save my life.
“Sure. Thank you.”
I try to muster up a smile, but it’s shaky and uneven. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and dab at the blood trickling down the side of my face. It was a small cut, and it’s already starting to clot, but the bruise throbs in time to my heartbeat, an angry, pulsing lump.
“No problem, Miss. That was quite an accident. I’m glad you’re all right.”
I nod, glancing back down at my phone. There are a couple more texts from River, one each from Chase and Dax, and several from Linc. Emotion tightens my throat, and I have to work to push words out.
“Thanks. You can get in if you want.”
“Oh!” He jerks in surprise. “Of course. Here I am letting all that cold air in.”
He slides into the passenger seat. The door on his side works fine, but I have a feeling neither of the doors on my side will open like they used to. As he settles into the seat beside me, I glance down at my messages.
Chase and Dax both tell me they’re on their way. River tells me the same thing, adding that they should reach me in about twenty minutes. The tone of Linc’s messages is curt, almost angry, and I know all four of the guys are kicking themselves for letting me go to the prison by myself today.
But I’m not a damn princess in a tower. They can’t watch out for me all the time.
I love them for trying though.
The old man, whose name turns out to be Walt, speaks softly from time to time, commenting on the weather as the snowfall begins to lighten. But he never presses me to talk, and I’m grateful as fuck for it. I don’t have the energy or emotional capacity to make small talk with a stranger right now.
The clock on the dashboard still works, and I watch the numbers change one by one, counting up from 3:24 p.m. When it’s nearly 3:50, I catch sight of movement in the rearview mirror. A car pulls onto Monroe Avenue, and I straighten in my seat, my breath catching.
