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Griff’s gaze shifts toward Dex, lingering on Dex’s hand still resting on my back. One corner of his mouth kicks into a flirty smile and he meets my eyes. “Not a problem, darlin’.”
“All right.” Dex shoves Griff toward the driveway. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Griff and Vapor exchange matching smirks.
Vapor reaches for Dex, wrapping him in a quick hug and thumping him on the back. “Talk soon, yeah?”
Dex nods and returns the back thump. “Tell Juliet I’ll stop by.”
“You got it.”
Griff and Vapor both say goodbye to me then take off, laughing and shoving each other all the way to the black car.
Then I’m alone again with Dex.
He turns to face me. “Let’s check out the car before I go.”
“They drove it here, so it must work,” I point out. “My aunt actually had a car very similar to that when we moved in.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder toward the house. “So, I’ve driven one before.”
“All right.”
He’s stopped from saying anything else by pulsing music and a small, yellow convertible screeching to a stop at the curb.
“Dammit,” I mutter.
“This Libby?” Dex frowns at the yellow car.
“Yeah, it’s her friend’s car. The girl’s a menace.”
My sister bolts from the passenger side and barely slams the door shut before her friend races away, honking her horn loud enough to wake a corpse. Great, the neighbors will lovethat.
“Mackenzie was your ride?” I fold my arms over my chest and aim my big sister stare at Libby.
She scowls, her obstinate eyes briefly clashing with mine. Despite our wide age gap, we’re alike in so many ways. Stubborn to the point of self-destruction. “I didn’t have tons of options.”
Damn, if that doesn’t stab a knife of guilt into my stomach.
Her gaze strays to the station wagon. “What’s with the boxy thing? Reminds me of Aunt Kimmy’s old beast.”
“It’s a loaner,” I explain, relieved she’s not going to argue with me in front of Dex.
Instead of verbal combat, my sister rakes her gaze over Dex, then actually smiles. “Is it lawn day already?”
Dex chuckles. “No, I picked your sister up from work.” He casts a glance my way. “Lucky we ran into each other this morning.”
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t saved me.” Internally, I cringe at how pathetic that sounds. I’m resourceful. I would’ve figured something out. Eventually.
Libby’s done with this conversation. She shouts, “Homework,” and speed walks into the house. “Later, Dex.”
“Later,” he calls after her.
The door slams shut, and he shifts his full attention to me. “How long has it been just the two of you?”
Pain lodges in my throat. In some ways, it feels like our parents just died. And in others, it seems so long ago, I have trouble remembering their faces. “Nine years—well, eight. We moved in with our aunt after our parents died, but she wasn’t in great health. She died about a year later,” I finish in a small voice. Too many complicated, painful memories are tied up inside me to explain to someone I barely know.
His serious expression could’ve been carved out of granite. “Raising your sister was a big responsibility to take on. You must’ve been pretty young.”
I bristle at the observation. How many people told me to put Libby into foster care so I could “live my life” without the “burden” of a much younger sister to raise? Too many to count. “There was no way in hell I was going to give her up to the state to put into foster care. Who knows what would’ve happened to her?” I flare. “We get by just fine.”
