Page 187 of Pretty Little Lies

The straps to my seatbelt loosen as he pulls it away from my body, and I hear the release of a heavy and relieved exhale from his mouth.

I’m so happy to see him, it’s brimming from my body. Levi always makes things better. He’ll help with the house and be able to get things back to normal.

He has to.

Levi is my savior and, as stupid as it sounds, I rely on him heavily. He’s the only one in my life that has been stable besides Dad. The only person in this world that hasn’t let me down.

“Hey,” I greet back. “How bad is it?”

“You’re fucking bleed?—”

“Thecar,” I leer back, then promptly soften my voice. “The car…Levi, how bad?”

“It’s fucked,” he answers honestly, to which my stomach guts itself out. “We’ll get it fixed. Don’t worry about that right now?—”

“It’s Dad’s.” Tears burn the back of my eyes and I meet Levi’s hazels, still remaining inside the car with me. “I fucked his?—”

“We got it.” His green eyes connect with mine, and I instantly feel calm. “Don’t sweat it. We won’t let him see it.”

“Lev, I?—”

“We need to get you?—”

“Move the fuck out of the way if you can’t do it, Wallace,” Torin barks out from behind him, and Levi’s expression turns murderous.

“If he doesn’t get away from me, I’m gonna kill that prick,” he warns me with promise.

“Would you get me out of the car first?”

Torin must touch Levi with impatience because my best friend quickly removes himself from the inside the car. His voice promptly rises with a combination of cuss words and threats when Reeve’s head pops in next.

Honestly, I can’t explain how much I love that face.

Those boyish features and that sandy blond beach hair of his literally make me calmer within a second of seeing it.

“McQueen,” he breathes, the reprieve of my being conscious washing over his features. “Fuck.”

“I’m okay,” I tell him. “Just calm Levi down.”

“Torin deserves to get his ass kicked.” My eyes widen a bit from the directness of his not saving his buddy. “He’s been a goddamn wreck the whole time we found out you were out here.”

How did he figure that out?

“You hurt? How bad?”

“Why can’t I be out here?” I solicit instead becausethisis my second home. Racing, gambling, fucking around with people and getting inside their heads.

“You can’t be out here racing when you’re upset,” he claims. “You’re not mentally?—”

“That guy hit me,” I retort through furrowed brows. “It has nothing to do with how I’m feeling.

“Yeah.” Reeve reaches for me and brushes a piece of my hair away from my face, cutting into my defense. “Saw that too.”

“Move, Stanton,” Levi orders, and Reeve does what he’s asked, slipping from the car window and giving my best friend the space he needs to get back.

“Can you move?”

“Not sure,” I quip. “I’m afraid to.”

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