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“No. But no one’s really looked into it, either.”
“Weird,” he mutters.
“For sure. But it is what it is.”
“You don’t want to know what you forgot?”
“Sometimes I do,” I admit. “But sometimes I think that perhaps I forgot for a reason, you know. And whatever those forgotten memories are, maybe they were really awful.”
He nods like he understands, but how could he unless he’s had amnesia, too?
“So, where are we going first?” Hunter asks as he slides into the back seat with me and Jax gets in the passenger side.
Zay immediately turns back around in the seat and revs up the engine. “We need to stop by the house to grab some cameras and stuff. We can get food there.”
Hunter scrunches up his nose as he reaches for his seat belt. “We don’t really have much in the fridge, man.”
“And whose fault is that?” Zay shoves the shifter into drive and backs out of the parking space.
“Jax’s, obviously,” Hunter says with hilarity ringing in his tone.
“No, it wasyourturn to do the shopping,” Zay continues to scold him as he drives out of the parking lot and onto the road.
Hunter reclines in the seat. “Well, I don’t know why it was. Jax has the best pushing carts skills.”
I snort a laugh then throw my hand across my mouth.
Hunter grins, so pleased with himself.
“He’s not funny,” Zay grumbles as he shifts gears.
“He kind of is, though,” I say with a shrug.
Grinning, Hunter stretches his arm along the back of the seat and around my shoulders. “You are, by far, the best BFF I’ve ever had.”
“Even better than them.” I nod at Jax and Zay.
He nods, attempting to appear serious, but his lips are twitching to turn upward. “They’re just my Fs.”
My brow curves upward. “Fs, as in, they’re your forevers? Because that sounds more intimate than best friends forever.”
Hunter busts up laughing, his eyes crinkling around the corner.
“Good God, there are two of them,” Zay mumbles, shaking his head.
Jax glances at us and, while he’s not fully smiling, his eyes glitter a little, so I think he finds me funny.
“Jax thinks she’s funny, too,” Hunter tells Zay. “So, you’re outnumbered, dude.”
Zay stays quiet, but his grip on the wheel tightens.
“I think you made him mad,” I whisper to Hunter.
“Nah, that’s just how Zay is,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Zay shifts the gears again, and the engine roars as the gears lower. I think maybe he’s slowing down, but instead, he presses on the gas and switches lanes, flooring it around a slow-moving minivan. He goes faster than necessary, I think playing with his car. It’s how my dad used to drive, like he was racing all the time. And he did race sometimes.
“Do you drag race this?” I ask Zay, even though he still seems kind of grumpy.
