Page 40 of This

I arch my back as he speeds up his movements. His fingers and mouth work in unison. Harder, faster, licking, sucking until my legs tremble, and I tighten my thighs around his head and cry out. Dane reaches up his free hand, covering my mouth as I come.

I’m boneless, a panting mess on his bench seat, as he looks up at me, teeth digging into his lip. Before I can fully recover, he glances at the clock on the dashboard, a grin spreading. “And … midnight.”

Dane stretches the length ofthe cab, his knees bent, feet up, and head in my lap.

“My father was on the phone with the lawyer before the EMTs even had my grandfather in the ambulance.” He reaches up and grazes his fingertips over my lips. “Everyone else was worried about the old man, and Greg was concerned about getting his hands on the fucking business.”

I run my hand through his hair and let him talk about his family. I have nothing to contribute, so all I can do is listen. No father, my grandpa died when I was two, and my grandma moved across the country shortly after. I met her once when I was eight. She called me Kendall the entire visit. My mom never corrected her, so neither did I. A year later, she died in a car accident. We didn’t go to the funeral and never talked about her again.

“I think that’s why the old man was so adamant about me moving back,” he says.

“Because of your dad?”

He nods, his eyes scanning the roof of his truck. “My family is so dramatic. I’m talking daytime TV–worthy. Backstabbing, scheming—” His gaze shifts to me. “You know how my father met his current wife?”

Aubrey, the clinger.

“How?” I ask.

“I took her to homecoming our junior year.”

“What?” My mouth falls open when he nods, and I gasp. “No!”

He chuckles at my reaction but then goes serious again. “And before the question creeps into your sweet little head, no. I never fucking touched her. Anytime she opened her mouth, I wanted to swerve into traffic. I ditched her the second we walked into the school’s gym.”

I shake my head and push the hair off his forehead. “I don’t know if we can be together now. I mean, I’m used to winning the worst parent award.”

“Is that what we are?” he asks. “Together?”

He chews on his lip, studying me in the way that sends my mind racing in every direction. My gaze averts out the window to Mr. Sully in front of his house with his dog. A mix between one of those breeds with the stubby legs and some larger one that gives it unfortunate proportions. Buggy eyes and an off-balance head.

“It’s late,” I say, looking back at Dane. “We should go.”

“Nah.” He shifts to his side, pushing an arm behind me and burying his face in my belly. “I’m good right here,” he mumbles.

Heat from the deep breath he exhales flows through my sweatshirt. I wonder if he doesn’t want to go home. If after spending most of his day at a hospital, the memories of his mom are too fresh. It happens to me whenever I drive too close to my old neighborhood or catch a glimpse of my reflection and notice the resemblance. Until it fades, I try to stay away from anything else that might trigger memories.

“Hey.” I nudge his shoulder, and he grunts. “Come inside with me.”

He angles his head, half of his face still covered. “What about Keaton’s parents?”

“They’ll be asleep on the couch. You can leave when Joyce goes on her power-walk in the morning.”

“From sneaking out to sneaking in,” he says, sitting up. He hands me my cupcake off the dash and kisses me on the nose as he leans over to throw the door open, scaring Mr. Sully and his dog in the process. “We’ve come a long way, Angel.”

As he crawls out, I smile. Twenty-three, my year of personal growth it seems.

Dane still sneaks out butonly after waking me up and giving Patrick a reason to suspiciously stare at me over breakfast. I guess cleaning my closet at five in the morning wasn’t the best on-the-fly excuse when he asked why I was moving around so early.

After spending the day wrapping gifts for a horde of Reynolds members, Joyce, Patrick, and I load box after box into the car. Keaton decided to wait for Liam to get back from visiting his grandpa before meeting us at Aunt Peg’s, so I’ll need to practice evasive maneuvers without any backup.

Easier said than done.

I’ve barely stepped through the door when the first question about San Francisco hits me. My smiles stay small, and I back out of conversations after a few minutes. The trick is to keep a plate of food in your hand, always chewing so that answers are short with nods andhmmandmmhmm.But for every step I make toward the kitchen, another relative catches my elbow.

I shouldn’t complain. Everyone in Keaton’s family treats me like one of their own—a minority excluded, who have either been in my pants or still hope to be one day. Speaking of the latter, Ford walks in. He immediately ducks out of a hug, his eyes searching for what I can only assume is me. I’m mid-lecture from Aunt Patty about the liberal leanings of my current city, so I throw out a closed-lip smile and clear my throat.

“Excuse me, I need some water.”

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