Page 86 of Indigo Sky

I held his gaze and asked questions I wasn’t sure he’d ever hear.Does she know the things you’ve done? Does she know about the people you’ve hurt? Does she know you’ve hurtme?

“We should double date sometime,” Kate suggested, wrapping her arms around one of mine and holding it to her chest.

“Yeah,” I agreed loosely to appease her. “That would be cool.”

“Just tell me when,” Nate replied.

They left shortly after that. Crystal said something about needing to relieve her mother of babysitting duties, and Kate mentioned something about her dad. They hugged, Nate and I shook hands in awe’re only doing this as a show for the womensort of way, and then they were gone in their separate cars, but driving in the same direction.

Kate smiled up at me. “They’re cute together.”

I hadn’t gotten that impression personally, but I could’ve been blinded by my suspicions about Nate’s real intentions and if he was capable of truly being in a healthy, monogamous relationship.

Still, I grunted a simple, “Hmm,” and offered a nod of loose agreement as we headed toward my car.

“I told you Crystal has had horrible luck with men,” she went on. “I’ve always hoped she’d find someone good. She’s the type who needs to be in a relationship—she hates being single—so I’ve just been holding out hope she’d meet someone decent. Seems like she finally has.”

I didn’t say anything. It would’ve been unfair. There was nothing decent about my history with Nate. But then there was the recent memory of our talk at the taco truck, and he’d sure seemed pretty decent then. So, really, what the fuck did I know?

We reached my car. I unlocked it and waited for Kate to get into the passenger side.

But before she opened the door, she turned to look at me and stated, “He’s that friend you were with years ago.”

Her memory was exceptional and never ceased to astound me sometimes, and I wondered how sad that must’ve been for her to remember every single tiny detail abouteverythingwhile her own father—the only family she had—forgother.

“Yes,” I answered, looking down into her upturned face.

“He was an asshole then,” she recalled, and I nodded. “So, am I wrong for thinking he’s a good guy now?”

I smirked at that. Nate had been right about something—I did love her. Shit. I might’ve been in love with her for weeks, and I hadn’t truthfully been able to put a word to that feeling swelling inside my chest every time I looked at her until the moment he said it, but it was true. I loved her. And that feeling only grew by the second as she waited with fierce protectiveness burning bright in her eyes. Because she cared for her friend and her well-being, but she trustedme.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “We kinda had a falling-out a few years ago, and we lost touch for a while. He seems like he’s trying to turn things around though. Told me he’s been trying to do better.”

Kate made a little contemplative sound as she nodded. “Crystal has a son. That kid has had his heart broken almost as many times as she has.” Her eyes met mine. “I’ll hurt him if he hurts them.”

“Don’t worry,” I said as I opened the car door. “I’ll kill him myself before you even get the chance.”

We were both inside the car and buckled up when everything suddenly came to a standstill. I was supposed to drive her home, but I didn’t know where she lived. I was ready to ask when she broke the silence with a confession of her own.

“I don’t want to go home.”

I looked out into the dark parking lot, the surrounding area, and all of the unknowns lurking deep in the shadows. Paranoia told me we were sitting ducks, asking for trouble by not getting the hell out of there as quickly as possible. But the underlying hurt in her voice kept me from turning the key in theignition as I looked across the car at her. I didn’t need to coax her reasons from her though. She already wanted to tell me.

“Usually, it doesn’t bother me … or at least, I tell myself that it doesn’t. Like, I want to take care of my dad. I want to because he always took care of me, even at times when I knew he didn’t want to or when he had no idea how to even take care of a girl all on his own. He did it anyway, so I feel like … I don’t know … like …”

“Like you owe it to him?” I offered quietly, not intending to interrupt and put a wrinkle in her train of thought.

One side of her mouth twitched, like it didn’t know if it should smile or frown. “Yeah,” she whispered. “And like I said, usually, it doesn’t bother me. I’mgladto help him. But sometimes, I think of all the time in my own life I’m not getting back by being there for him. And I sit here and think,What about me? When do I take care of me? When do I get to do the things I want to do instead of the things Ineedto do?”

Then, she swiped at her cheek with the palm of her hand, and I realized she was crying.

“Hey,” I whispered, reaching out to lay a hand against her back.

“God,” she said, letting a mirthless laugh bubble up her throat as she sniffled and wiped at her eyes again. “You probably think I’m a coldhearted bitch.”

“What?” I shook my head, taken aback as I rushed to reassure her. “I don’t think you’re a bitch. I think you’rehuman.”

The tears streamed faster down her face, and I reached across her lap to open the glove compartment, where I pulled out a few fast-food napkins and handed them to her.

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