Page 89 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

Her straight white teeth dig into her bottom lip as she pulls the brim of my hat a little lower to hide herself and looks out the window. “Maybe?”

“Bullshit,” I repeat. “Did your mom meet him at church? I bet she did, huh?”

“Theee-ooo,” she groans, smacking my shoulder. “Okay. You win. Enough with the interrogation.”

“I’m just sayin’,” I argue. “No one likes a blind date.”

“Fine. We won’t set up Mack on a blind date with anyone. Happy now?”

“Maybe.”

Crossing her arms, she looks out the window and mutters, “Party pooper.”

As I pull up to my house, trepidation pools in my stomach. Cars are already littered across the driveway, preventing me from pulling into the garage, so I shove my car into park a hundred feet down the street. I rest my forearm on the steering wheel and stare up at the house, unable to move. It’s dark out, but the lights are on inside, casting a glow along the front lawn. The music is thumping, ringing loud and clear through the windshield, and there are people scattered around the front, talking and laughing and kissing.

I don’t move. I don’t climb out. I just stare. At the life I used to crave. The highs I used to chase. The women. The alcohol. It looks so empty from the outside.

“There a problem?” Blake asks.

“Speaking of party poopers,” I mutter, tearing my attention from the house to Blake. “You sure you don’t want to get out of here?”

She laughs and motions to the party in front of us. “We haven’t even gotten into here yet.”

I scratch my temple but stay put behind the wheel.

With a smile, she reaches for my knee and squeezes playfully. “Come on, Teddy Bear. Don’t tell me you hate your own parties.”

I look down at her hand on my thigh. The way her long fingers barely reach from one end to the other. The way her nails are free of polish and her fingers free of jewelry. She’s so effortlessly beautiful. So quietly gorgeous. It’s the little things. The subtlety. The way she stands out because of it, even though she has no idea.

“Dude. You okay?” she asks.

I clear my throat and look at her, meeting her gaze. “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Should we go inside?”

“Sure.”

She reaches for my favorite hat still on her head, ready to take it off, but I tug at her wrist and stop her. “Leave it on. You look good with it.”

Incredible, actually.

The fire in her eyes sparks, like she wants to fight me on it, but she decides against it, letting her hand rest in her lap. “Only ‘cause I’m feeling generous.” She climbs out of the passenger seat, and I follow behind her, locking the car once the doors are closed.

The bass is thumping, practically shaking the windows as we walk up the driveway. Tukani is on the front porch with Depp. When they see us, their eyes heat with interest and roll over an oblivious Blake.

With a glare in their direction, I press my hand to Blake’s back and lead her up the steps to the front door.

“Hey, Baby Thorne!” Tukani calls.

“Hey, Tsunami!” she returns.

The Tongan grins and pulls her into a hug, winking at me over her shoulder when he catches my scowl.

Chuckling, Depp steals Blake from Tukani and squeezes her against his side. The gesture is more friendly than annoying as if he doesn’t feel like having his ass kicked tonight. He lets her go and takes a swig of his beer.

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