Page 35 of Caught Stealing

“Ducked?”

“Duck, duck, Jeep,” Phoenix interjects, before adding, “Again, a Jeep-people thing.”

Noah laughs. “You’re acting like they’re a cult.”

“Because it is.”

“Am I even needed for this conversation?” I snap from the front, my ability to play things off officially gone. “Because it sure doesn’t seem like it.”

Phoenix meets my glare in the rearview once again, a little smirk on his lips.

It’s then I realize his entire goal was just to rile me up. Fray my edges. Lose my carefree persona he’s slowly starting to slice through, one jab at a time. And I fed right into it without a second thought, thanks to my mind being so occupied with Theo’s little slip-up.

Points to Nix on this one.

“I’ll smother his face with a pillow to shut him up,” Noah says, and true to his word, he slams his pillow right into Phoenix’s face. And while it’s not enough for me to completely compose myself again, I do get a small amount of enjoyment from it.

“Whatever, I’m done with this,” I hear Phoenix mutter, and I glance back just in time to see him shove his headphones in his ears—no doubt in an attempt to drown out our conversation.

“Didn’t want to tell you anyway,” I snark back, aware it might be brushed aside. Which it evidently is, so when he doesn’t respond, I fall into storytelling mode.

“I found the duck, actually. Move-in weekend of freshman year. It was the same weekend as the Duck Derby they do in the Chicago River, and my Gran and I were exploring the city before she flew back to California. We’d caught the end of the race by chance and watched the winner slide into the massive net to catch them all. But this one fell outta the net.”

“So you just kept it?”

I nod. “Yep.”

“Why?”

“I’d just bought my Jeep a few weeks before and knew of the so-called cult,” I say, aiming a barb at Phoenix—even if he can’t hear me. “So I gave him a name and taped him to the dash. He’s been there ever since.”

Noah lets out a low hum. “Never took you for the sentimental type.”

“Only with my Gran,” I say, thinking of the woman I owe everything to. Without her, God only knows where I’d be. Certainly a lot more fucked up than I am already.

Noah catches me off guard by asking for the first truly personal piece of me in the years we’ve known each other.

“Did she raise you?”

I hedge for a second as I switch my attention to the mirror. Relief floods me when I find Phoenix staring out the window, still not listening.

Good.

The duck story—whatever. I don’t care about him knowing the little, seemingly meaningless things about me. But if what Theo said is true, then his knowing something like this…is just different.

Too personal and intimate.

“She helped, yeah. And she became my guardian after my parents died.”

My gaze slices to Noah as I wait for the look of sympathy I’m used to getting whenever someone finds out about my parents’ passing. And sure enough, there it is, written all over his damn face.

He’s silent for a second before asking the second-most fundamental question. “How long ago?”

I glance at Phoenix—once again grateful to see him tuning us out—before answering. “It’ll be six years the first week of May.”

“Shit,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, man.”

“Thanks, but it’s fine.” I swallow down the knot encroaching on my vocal cords, but the rest of my response still comes out a little gruff. “It was a while ago.”

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