Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
He gives my hand a little squeeze. “Good job. See? It’s not so hard.”
I snort.
Ha! It’s surprisingly more difficult than it looks when someone else is doing the driving. Why would anyone bother with a manual when automatic is so much easier?
We circle the deserted lot at least a dozen times until I’m in third gear and somewhat confident that I won’t lose control and end up crashing into the front of the church.
“Okay. You’ve mastered this part.” He nods toward the street. “I think you’re ready to hit the road.”
I flick a nervous glance at him before my attention arrows back to the windshield. “Please tell me that you’re not serious.”
“Of course I am. You’re doing great.” His hand stays wrapped around mine. “I wouldn’t suggest it unless I thought you were ready.”
I circle the paved lot a few more times, trying to work up my courage to leave it behind.
“Come on, Fallyn,” he cajoles. “You can do it.”
“Don’t push me,” I grumble, reluctantly turning out of the lot and onto the city street.
My pulse leaps, skittering beneath my skin as my fingers lock around the steering wheel. He rubs soothing circles across the back of my hand. The caress is just enough to get my attention and dissolve the iciness that coats my insides.
“Relax, angel. You’re doing great. Take a left turn at the next light.”
As we approach the intersection, I downshift and crank the wheel before expelling a harsh breath from my lungs. Then I’m back in third. Wolf turns on the radio until indie rock fills the small cabin. After a few minutes, I find myself humming along with the music.
When ‘Mr. Brightside’ by The Killers pours through the speakers, my mind tumbles back to when he sang it during karaoke at Slap Shotz. His gaze had slid over the crowd of rowdy college students before fastening onto mine. I should have realized then that everything was about to change.
Whether I was ready or not.
“Told you I was coming out of my cage,” he murmurs, as if he understands the thoughts running rampant through my head.
It’s disconcerting.
We’ve always had that kind of uncanny ability with each other. That’s what happens when you’ve known someone your entire life.
My eyes dart to him for just a heartbeat before returning to the black ribbon of road stretched out in front of me. A shiver shimmies down my spine as I rack my brain for something to say. My tongue feels thick and useless in my mouth. Tension continues to ratchet up until it turns explosive. It wouldn’t take much to blow us both to smithereens.
It’s almost a relief when he says, “Turn left here.”
I pull into a semi-crowded parking lot and realize that we’re at the same diner as the first time we went out driving. I ease into a spot near the back where it’s less packed and turn off the engine. All of the tension gripping me loosens as I relax against the seat and release an unsteady breath into the atmosphere.
“I did it.” My voice comes out sounding shaky.
“Yes, you did. You should be proud of yourself.” His lips curve. “I’m proud of you, Fallyn. Even though you were scared, you fought through it.”
Pleasure bursts inside me like an overinflated balloon. His praise shouldn’t have the power to affect me, but it does, and I refuse to lie to myself and pretend that’s not the case.
It’s only when he flexes his fingers that I realize they’re still wrapped around mine and have been there the entire time in a silent show of support.
“Are you hungry?”
After that, I’m famished. It feels like I’ve scaled a mountain and lived to tell the tale.
With a nod, we exit the vehicle before meeting in front of the hood. When he slips my fingers into his hand, I can’t help but glance down at them. After all the intimacy we’ve shared, holding hands is nothing.
And yet, the contact feels unbearably intimate.
As I contemplate tugging them away and putting some much-needed distance between us, I’m slammed with the realization that I don’t want to. I like the feel of his hand wrapped protectively around mine. It’s been a long time since I felt safe and secure.
Those disturbing thoughts circle through my brain as we settle at a table inside the diner. I glance at the plastic-coated menu even though I know exactly what I’m going to order. A few customers and staff greet Wolf, calling out his name and telling him that he had a great game the other night along with how much they’re looking forward to the next one.
A different waitress takes our order. She looks older. Maybe college-aged like us. The entire time she attempts to flirt with Wolf, his eyes stay locked on mine.
He’s in no way rude, but he doesn’t go out of his way to encourage her chatter either. It doesn’t take long for her to realize that she won’t be able to draw his attention away from me and her behavior turns brisk before she finally disappears. Barely does she say a word when dropping off our drinks.