Page 146 of Forbidden Game

It isn’t that bad, honestly. It’s not like I am avoiding being in cars all together. But just glancing at the wheel of the car and imagining my own hands on it has a knot forming at the base of my throat.

Crap.

“Does it scare you?”

Parker places his hands on top of mine, and it’s then that I realize I’ve been fidgeting with my fingers.

“I don’t know.” My voice is softer this time.

It’s also a lie.

Parker unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. I watch as he crosses to my door and pulls it open. He holds a hand out to me, and I watch it warily.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust me.”

I know where this is going. I’m not oblivious. And yet there is a part of me that is thankful. Because I know I don’t have the strength to force myself to do this alone. But Parker? Having him tell me that it is okay, that I can do this, somehow that makes it all better. I am relieved to give the power to someone else.

I undo my seatbelt and take his hand. I let him lead me to the driver’s side, and my heart rate begins to spike. My eyes dart all over the interior of the car as he lowers me into the seat and fiddles to get it into position for me. I don’t move an inch, staying perfectly still as he leans in and clicks my belt in for me.

That click resounds in my ears, like a gun being cocked.

“Breathe, love.”

I zone back in and notice Parker has taken a seat next to me.

“I’m not really sure a Porsche is the best car to get back into driving,” I deflect.

“It’s a straight shot. Six miles of nothing but road that comes to a stop. You can’t mess it up.”

“And if I do?”

“This is my cheapest car, it’s fine.”

He says it as though he has forgotten I know exactly how much effort—and money—he went through to get these custom blue sports cars. I am grateful this isn’t his new Lamborghini, I guess.

“My license is expired,” I tell him.

“There are no police here. It’s an abandoned highway.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

My palms sweat.

“I know you can.”

“Why does this matter so much to you?”

“Because you matter to me.” I shiver at the sincerity, his words rippling over my skin in a cool wave. “I hate the thought that this fear might still rule you. I want to help you get control of that again. Just like you helped me.”

“I didn’t help you.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, love. I wouldn’t have gone to the run in Vegas if you didn’t push me to leave that hospital room, and I would’ve regretted it.”

Regret.

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