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Nolan stalls. “Young lady, you saved a life tonight.” Willow dips her head, a slight acknowledgment. “Good night.” Nolan retraces Mom and Jamie’s steps.
Beneath the glow of a lamp, I continue to assess Willow. “You afraid?”
I realize she hasn’t spoken since Mom took over. Clearing her throat, she offers the slightest smile. “Of your mom? Hell yeah.”
“She honest to God loves babies, but we won’t assert ourselves in your life, Lo.” I take a regretful step away from her, though it rips my heart in two not to speak up. To threaten her. To strong-arm my way into my baby’s and her heart. “I need to get that truck off the street ASAP. Then I’ll clean this up and have the sliding glass door fixed.”
“So, your mom bosses around not just any cop, but a captain?”
I nod. “Yup. Off night for her. She tosses her weight around with my dad most times.”
“What accounts for when she’s not bossing him?”
“His mean streak.”
“So,” she shifts her bare feet, “MacKenzie women are firecrackers?”
The air in my lungs becomes fumes before I ask, “Can we talk about us?”
Our roles have reversed. No emotion brightens her pretty ass face. She asks, “What about the truck?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck. I’ll be back.”
Every step I take exiting the tennis court feels like I’m further from Willow than ever before, and she’s walking beside me.
We’re halfway through the house, and she’s flicking on lights as she moves. At the entrance, Willow chews her lip. “It’s weird being here when birds can fly inside.”
I stop my gaze from focusing on her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.” Please let me fix us.
“Nope, you’ve gotta deal with the truck first. But before you leave, let me wash up and dress. I’m not staying here.”
* * *
Willow has her arms folded around herself as she settles in Hector’s Toyota. Three hundred thousand miles are on the speedometer. I begin driving. I can’t stop myself from saying, “Those jeans . . .”
Willow was rubbing her palms together, but her eyes flicker to me. Her eyebrow perches. “Blood stains like crazy. But my jeans, you were saying?”
“Are they tight over your belly?”
“The top’s elastic.”
Ten minutes later, the silence has become maggot food between us. “I used to steal cars.”
“I sort of figured the night before my birthday. Fast life, fast cars, fast girls. You like Chevys?”
“Yup. Steal another make, and it’s bound to break down while trying to get away.” She doesn’t laugh at my sorry attempt at a joke. “Finally got my license, and now, I got you in a stolen car.”
A little while later, I’ve backed the truck into the lot in Dominguez Hills. We stand on a deserted street, beneath a streetlamp waiting for an Uber.
“Willow.”
She yawns. “Yes?”
Damn, she’s exhausted. I fork an anxious hand through my hair. “I’ll get you home.”
“Okay.”
These past few months, I’ve lived the straight-and-narrow. But when it comes to Willow Greene, I’ll always have a selfish bone in my body. Instead of taking her home, I find myself carrying her exhausted body into my apartment. I need her near while I process how my actions could’ve caused me to lose her?permanently?because of my brother.
