Page 62 of False Start

I pulled the car out of the empty parking lot. Trent fiddled with the radio, re-establishing a fragile Bluetooth connection with the hastily installed radio.

“Thanks,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road.

I was desperate not to rehash the night before, and yelling at Trent was an easy way out. A coward’s way out. Despite the weird emotions he made me feel, he didn’t deserve that.

“What for?” Trent relaxed back into his seat, wedging his travel neck pillow between him and the window as he pulled out his phone.

I pursed my lips. “For not being a dick about me losing the guidebook.”

He raised an eyebrow, dragging his eyes away from the phone. “Why would I do that?”

I waited a beat, wondering if he was joking before chancing a look over. His stare was placid, inviting.

“Because I was sort of a dick when I thought you’d lost it.”

His lips hitched up. “Only slightly.”

“Well, I’m sorry, and thank you.” I turned my attention back to the road but felt Trent’s stare burning into my cheek. “What?”

“Nothing.” His voice lilted, drawling out each syllable. “That was just a really nice thing to say. I’m shocked.”

“It’s the only nice thing you’re getting out of me for the rest of the day,” I muttered. “Now, play your dumb podcast.”

TWENTY

TRENT

“I’d kill for a Wawa,”I groaned, exiting the car, arms stretched overhead.

I’d lost track of our location as we ricocheted around the southeast, driving on single-lane state highways only served by off-brand, rundown gas stations.

“I don’t think they have those in Tennessee.” Kit rolled out her neck, back arching. “Are we still in Tennessee?”

“A Buc-ees, then. I’d eat my body weight in gummy worms and brisket.”

“Best I can do is hot, fresh pizza,” she said, reading off the faded sign on the window. Judging by the cobwebs, I doubted she could promise that much. “At least we can grab some chips and soda. I’m starving.”

The car rally stops were a far cry from the five-star hotels and resorts I normally stayed in. Even when I played away games, at worst, the team would at least stay at a hotel with a breakfast bar. But the cut-rate places that served as check-ins barely had running air conditioning, let alone a continental breakfast bar.

“I’ll fill it up.” I held my hands out for the keys. “Pick me out whatever. I think I’ll just be disappointed if I go inside.”

While I wasn’t militant about my diet, three days of roller meats and packaged food had grown old. My stomach churned at the prospect of another greasy slice of stale pizza or sugary drink.

“Actually, grab me a water and a granola bar!” I called after Kit. “And we’re stopping somewhere with actual food for lunch,”

She waved a hand back at me. A “yeah, sure, whatever” hand wave that dismissed me without so much as a glance back. I grinned.

If I’d been worried the kiss the night before would change anything, I had no reason to worry. Kit wasn’t like that. She wasn’t bowled over by a kiss. She wasn’t infatuated over a dare. She hadn’t evenlikedthe kiss.

And if that disappointed me just a little, I kept that to myself.

Kit returned to the car with a full bag of snacks in her hand.

“Want me to drive for a bit?” I offered.

She surveyed the state highway. Not a single car had passed while I’d pumped gas and we’d already traveled through the Blue Ridge Mountains into the flatter western part of the state.

“Okay.” She held out the keys but didn’t let go when I grabbed them. “But take it easy with the clutch. I swear I heard some weird clunking earlier.”

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