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“Normal is boring,” he replied. “And besides, I could say the same thing to you.” He shrugged. “I’m hardly a normal boyfriend.”

“I’m just saying that it would be easier for you if—”

“Well, I don’t want easy. I wantyou,” he cut me off by saying. “Just the way you are.”

My breath hitched in my throat. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, not missing a beat. “Every part and every piece.”

I grimaced. “Even the broken parts?”

He winked. “Especially the broken parts.”

I paused then, listening to the song playing on the stereo, before a small laugh tore from my throat.

Johnny smirked. “Something funny?”

“‘Proud Mary’?” I questioned, gesturing to the stereo. “How does he go from ‘Grace,’ to ‘Yellow,’ to ‘Proud Mary’?”

“I know.” Chuckling, he switched off the stereo and dropped back down on his back. “I think it’s a fair representation of what goes on in his head.” He sighed and stroked my waist. “His head’s spinning constantly.”

“Can I show you something?” I asked then, as I climbed off his lap and slipped back into the passenger seat. “It’s…” Letting my words trail off, I reached into my schoolbag at my feet and withdrew the folded-up envelope.

“What’s that?” Johnny asked with a frown as he rebuttoned his shirt. “Shan?”

“It’s, uh…” Holding it in my trembling hands, I unfolded it and looked at the scraggly handwriting before blowing out a sharp breath. “From my dad,” I added before thrusting the envelope into his hands.

His brow furrowed as his eyes flicked between the envelope and me. “He wrote you a letter?”

I nodded. “He left one for all of us, but I can’t read mine.”

He frowned again, deeper this time. “Do you want…me to read it?”

“I don’t think I want to know,” I choked out, feeling flighty. “I just…maybe if you read it, just to check?”

Johnny didn’t hesitate. His fingers ripped open the envelope, and with a steady hand he held the piece of paper to his face, concentrating intently on whatever my father had written.

I watched as his shoulders stiffened and his cheeks reddened. “Is it bad?” I squeezed out. “Is he mad at me?”

“He said he’ssorry,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “That he was sick, he’s seen the error of his ways, and he’s trying to make things right.” Jaw clenching, he rolled his shoulders like he was trying to control himself before adding, “He said that he hopes in time that you can find it in your heart to forgive him, and you can all be a family again.”

My heart sank. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Looking furious, Johnny refolded the letter and held it out for me.

I shook my head. “I don’t want that back.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” I choked out. “Get rid of it.”

Nodding stiffly, Johnny reached into the glove box and withdrew a lighter. Torching the letter, he rolled down his window and tossed it out, letting the wind sweep it away.

“Thank you,” I whispered, relieved to have that piece ofhimgone from me. “He’s lying,” I blurted out, feeling panicked. “You know that, right?”

Johnny nodded. “I know, baby.”

“He doesn’t mean any of that,” I heard myself say, desperate to make him understand. “This is a trick. This is something he’s been told to do.” I shook my head, feeling distraught and frustrated. “He’s not sorry, Johnny—” My voice cracked. “He’sneversorry.”

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