Page 27 of Crimson Vows

Igrip the door of Dante’s black sports car as the city blurs past us. The engine growls, a beast in the night. Wind tears through my hair, the cool air sharp against my skin.

“Maybe we should avoid getting arrested before we make it to Gia’s,” I shout over the roar.

Dante nods, his eyes on the road and his hands tight on the wheel. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Streetlights streak above us. We’re flying, weaving through the darkness toward her.

“Seriously, man, slow down,” I urge as we pass through another hard red light.

Dante eases up on the accelerator. Leaning farther into his seat, he huffs, “You used to like that I was so reckless.”

I chuckle. “I don’t think I would phrase it that way.”

He glances my way, an eyebrow raised as he shrugs. “Whatever.”

“I think we should really take a minute before we get there to talk about Gia,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos of the ride.

“I don’t really see what there is to talk about.”

“How about what she did for me?” I suggest, trying to remind him I am only alive because of her.

“Fuck, dude, I get it. She saved your fucking life, and as much as I appreciate what she did, I don’t think that exactly makes her a goddamn saint.”

“Dante, I don’t think you get it. I owe her everything.”

Dante’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel. He glances at me, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I hear you.”

“I need you to more than just hear me; I need you to understand,” I press. “She’s more than—”

“I said I got it!” He cuts me off sharply.

“Based on your fucking attitude, I don’t think you do. If you care about me, you’ll give her the respect she deserves.”

“Can we cut the bullshit?” he asks, staring at the road straight ahead.

“What do you mean?”

“Just admit you’ve got it bad for this chick,” he answers, never looking away from the path ahead.

I shake my head and chuckle softly. “No, it’s not like that. I’m just grateful, I guess. That and she’s different from most people.”

“It sure sounds like you’re in love with her or something.”

“Wow.” I look over at him, blinking repeatedly. “Are you jealous?”

“What?” He gasps. “We always agreed we were nothing more than friends who enjoyed our time together. Why would I be jealous?”

I place a hand on his thigh. “I know what we said, but I think we can both agree that we moved past that definition a long time ago.”

Dante stiffens as my hand rests on his thigh, and the car swerves slightly, the sudden movement jolting us both.

“Whoa!” I laugh, pulling my hand away. “Maybe I should let you focus on the road.”

He nods, clearing his throat and trying to shake off the distraction. “Sorry.”

Silence settles between us, charged with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. The city lights dance across Dante’s face. He doesn’t look like other men I’ve been with. His frame is large and muscular, and his presence never goes unnoticed. He’s loud and uses humor to defuse uncomfortable situations. He speaks without thinking more often than not. And all of these things make it so special when Dante allows himself to be vulnerable with me.

“I know you never want to talk about it, but we both know we’re more than only friends with benefits.” I finally break the silence, my voice low.

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