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Up and down.
His eyes are almost completely shut from how hard he’s crying.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
I have to stop him.
Neither of us have the money to pay for the damages. This car is probably worth more than our lungs and kidneys.
Both of them.
Combined.
Plus Henry has a sick grandmother to take care of. He borrowed from everyone just to afford her surgery last month.
Wrapping my arms around his back, I squeeze as hard as I can.
Please, Henry. Stop. Please. Please.
Something wet plops against the wrist that’s locked around his stomach. It’s followed by another. Another.
Is it tears or sweat?
I don’t know.
But at last, Henry’s shoulders slump and he takes a drunken step back. The baseball bat slips from his fingers and clatters to the ground. He sobs, his face muscles crumpling and his shoulders caving in. It breaks my heart.
A plaintive hope that it’s over, that this crazy situation will end here and not get any worse flits through my head.
And then the hair on the back of my neck stands to attention. After so many years, I’ve come to understand my body’s gut reaction to a shift in environment.
Sometimes, it takes my other senses a second to catch up with my brain.
But tonight, I’m on high alert.
There.
A shadow.
A big one.
Turning slowly, I make eye-contact with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen plenty of good-looking men, so that’s saying something.
He’s in a black tuxedo. His hair is brushed back dashingly, revealing a strong forehead. Unlike the trendy, giant-neck gym bro from earlier, he’s relatively lean. Like a swimmer. Broad shoulders taper to a slim waist and long legs highlighted by perfectly tailored trousers.
DaNicislacks?
I’d recognize that handiwork anywhere.
This man has money and good taste.
Gorgeous chocolate eyes fix on me.
Time stops for a second.
I feel a very distinctive stomach flutter until I look down and realize he’s holding a key fob.
Thekey fob.
