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Dad squeezes my shoulder.
I give him a hug. “See yah, dad.”
“Treat her right,” dad grumbles in my ear.
It’s not a suggestion.
Or a request.
He leans back and gives me a solid look—the one only a father can give to his son. I recognize the weight of his instructions and the pride in his eyes.
Dad believes in me.
Even if I don’t necessarily believe in myself.
A lump in my throat, I follow Asia to the car.
We stow our suitcases.
Wave one more time.
Drive off.
Asia groans. “I hate lying to them.”
“We didn’t lie. We just… withheld certain details.”
“That's called lying, Hansley.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Is there anything you’ve been withholding from me?”
I laugh. “Not that I can think of.”
She analyzes my face.
“Go ahead. Ask me anything.” I flick the indicator. “I'll be honest.”
“I heard you think Venus is hot?”
I cough. “Except that one.”
She laughs.
“There’s a difference between being honest and being too honest. I don’t want to sleep in the couch tonight.” My fingers release from the steering wheel and land on the stick shift, palm up.
Her hand settles on top of mine.
Flesh against flesh.
Palm against palm.
She slowly interlaces our fingers.
Slips her hand into the spaces between mine.
Filling me.
Fitting right into place.
“Spoken like someone who’s learned the hard way.” She smirks.
