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I rub my wrist, knowing that I’ll never see that bracelet again, but the memories will always be with me.
I pour myself a cup of coffee, leaning against the counter in Dad and Pop’s kitchen, my teeth clenched and a muscle in my jaw ticking. Narrowing my eyes at my reflection in the oven door, I clench my hand into a fist, needing to let some of the anger flowing through me out.
Last night was perfect, spending the evening with Lexi, Dad and Pop, but that came crashing down when I went to my car to get the gift I bought Lexi. I didn’t get to see her reaction because I knew I had to get my car from the curb before anyone saw what had happened and asked any questions.
My front tires were slashed and a note pinned under the wipers. My goddamn car had been messed with!
Pushing my hand into my pocket, I pull out the note, reading the words for what feels like the thousandth time.
A bad attitude is like a flat tire: you can’t go anywhere until you change it, pumpkin.
I ball the note up, pushing it back into my pocket before taking a sip of the now lukewarm coffee.
“Son?” I startle at the sound of Pop’s voice. He heads to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup, already dressed for the day in his three-piece suit. “Did you stay the night?”
“Yeah.” I pull my cell out as it vibrates and push it back in my pocket, dumping the coffee down the sink. “I didn’t want to risk driving last night.” The lie rolls off my tongue with surprising ease.
“Ahh.” He nods in understanding.
“I better get going.” I push forward, wrapping my arms around him, knowing that I need to get out of here before he realizes that my car isn’t out front. “I’ll see you later,” I tell him when I’ve pulled away.
“Be safe!” he shouts after me as I walk out of the house and down the path to Luke’s SUV that’s idling next to the sidewalk.
Pulling open the door, I lift up into the seat before slapping my hand on the dash. “Let’s go.”
He pulls away from the curb, eyeing me in the same way I’m staring at him.
He has dark circles under his eyes, his muscles tense as he grips the steering wheel so hard I’m afraid he may pull it off. Looks like two of us are pissed.
“What happened?” he asks, his voice a growl.
“Someone slashed my tires, Eric picked up my car last night, I need to head over to see how much damage is done.”
“You know who did it?”
I grind my teeth together, crossing my arms over my chest, knowing it was Geena—she’s the only person who called me pumpkin. “I have an idea, but I need to check my cameras.”
Silence surrounds us as we make our way to the auto body repair shop that did my custom paint job.
“What’s up with you?” I finally ask after ten minutes of silence.
“None of your goddamn business,” he growls back.
“Whoa.” I hold my hands up, my head whipping toward him. “Your time of the month?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
He growls again, lifting his hand up and smashing it into his steering wheel over and over again.
“Luke! What the fuck?”
He ignores me, his nostrils flaring as his chest heaves up and down before he comes to an abrupt stop at the shop.
“Luke?” I try again.
He turns to face me, his ice-blue eyes staring daggers at me as he grinds out, “I need to—” The sound of his cell beeping distracts him, and he looks down, opening a message and throwing his head back in frustration.
I wait, knowing that he won’t tell me what’s going on with him but needing him to know that he can talk to me if he needs to.
“You know you can talk to me,” I tell him.
