Page 133 of Brazen Mistakes

“Pretty much nothing.” I carry her to the kitchen, plopping her down on a stool before pulling out the roast chicken Walker made. I’m pretty sure he’d been hoping to tempt her downstairs today, as he’d made this whole multicourse meal: salad, sides, and rice. There are even cookies, but I’m saving those for later. Or maybe I should tempt her with them? “Walker cooked like, half the day. The other half he was busy with his sketchbook. Do you think he’s drawing dirty pictures of the two of us?”

She laughs, and it’s normal. Not strained or forced. Sleep is her magic get-better juice, and I’m going to have to find a way for her to get more of it. “We’ll have to ask.”

I load up a plate for her, and she picks at the cold chicken before I finish putting it together. Good.

“Are you just down for a midnight snack?”Please say no.

“I slept half the day and half the night. I think I’m up for a while.”

I debate not saying it. I really do. But it’s what I need. And it might be what she needs, too. “Want to go out with me tonight?”

She glances at the clock, confused.

“Not like, to a club or something. Want to go lift a car?”

I slide the warmed food to her, and she tugs off another bit of chicken, chewing it slowly before she answers. “Is that a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You don’t have a car.”

“We’ll take Walker’s.”

“For grand theft auto?”

“Don’t mind the minutia.”

Another small laugh, smothered by a forkful of salad. I grab her a glass of water, and she takes a sip. “I don’t know if I’m in the right mood.”

“It’s probably good to go out in different head spaces, so no matter what, you’re used to the tricks your brain will play on you when you’re under stress.”

She tilts her head, some of her hair slumping over one shoulder. “Does your brain play tricks on you?”

“Sometimes. What do you think?”

She nibbles on this spicy vegetable relish I forgot to ask Walker the name of, her eyes going wide before she reaches for the water again. Crisis averted, she stares at me, and it’s like she wants to ask me something, but instead she just nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Excellent. I’ll go get our winter stuff. It’s supposed to snow tonight, so that’ll help with covering our tracks. Finish up, and I’ll bring treats for the drive over.”

“Treats?”

“Secret treats. For when you’re done with dinner.”

“You’re getting to be as bad as Trips.”

I throw a hand to my chest. “Never!” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I rush to get everything we need. Needing this, needing her, needing to not feel like my skin’s on fire.

Need need need.

This has to help. It always does.

The LoJack’s fried, and the house is still dark as we careen out the front gates, Clara’s panicked grin as I point her into random turns making my own stretch across my face.

She stole this car.

Yeah, I helped, but she’s the one who picked the house, turned the key, opened the garage, and drove away like the police are right behind her.

She squeals as she fishtails a bit on a left turn, the adrenaline making her too quick to correct her slide.

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