Page 145 of Forbidden Game

My eyes flick up, and I pinch my brows together.

“Kidding, kidding,” he laughs.

“You better be.”

We finally make it back to the beach parking lot, and Parker unlocks the Porsche, opening the door for me.

I hesitate in front of the car for a second before sliding into the passenger seat, scolding myself in the process. I’d done a lot better this time around after the accident. There are still those moments of panic that have resurfaced after so many years, but another added bonus to going back to Missouri is that I’d been able to start therapy back up to make sure I wouldn’t fall prey to my old fears.

I am doing pretty well, if I say so myself.

The nightmares are dwindling, I hadn’t had any panic attacks, and I’m not avoiding cars.

Although, my desire to get back behind the wheel is becoming nonexistent.

“Mind if I take us somewhere?”

I pull my attention from the ocean breezing past and look at the blond prince beside me. Somehow, he gets more and more hot every single day.

“Sure.”

We pull off the highway and start weaving around a couple of side streets. My eyes dart around our surroundings, trying to figure out where we are going. Eventually, my eyes catch on a sign for an out-of-service highway, and the car rolls to a stop just at the entrance, as he shifts it into park.

I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to sound skeptical. I’m not going to lie. The way he’d framed it, I thought it was going to be somewhere a little more romantic than, well, this.

My juice might taste like dirt to him, but this road literally is dirt.

“How long has it been?”

“What?”

“Since you’ve driven. How long has it been?” he clarifies slowly.

“Uh, I stopped around the time you hired me.”

“Were you driving a lot before that?”

Alarm bells begin ringing in my head.

“Not really.” I shake my head. “Why?”

He nods his head a few times, thinking about something. Something that I instinctively know I’m not going to like.

“Do you want to drive again?”

It isn’t the question I’d expected.

There is such clear honesty swirling in his eyes that it makes my chest tighten.

I let out a sigh and let my head fall back against the headrest.

“I don’t know.”

It is the truth. I don’t really need to drive. There is the company rideshare account, plus Francis and the boys. Even Stevie drives me sometimes, although she is an awful driver. Sure, it means I am reliant on people but…

An ugly spore sprouts deep within my chest the more I toil with the thoughts. It begins to stain me from the inside out, clawing at me to look at it. To acknowledge what I’d been ignoring.

That I’d fallen back into my old pattern.

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