don’t understand—”
“Hey. Calm down, okay?”
His voice, so soothing, makes me choke down the hysteria. He rests one hand on the windowsill and fishes a set of keys out of his jeans with the other. “Why don’t you take my car, and I’ll see if I can’t get yours fixed? We can swap them back tomorrow.”
I stare at the keys dangling in front of me. “I can’t take your car. It’s worth more than—”
“Take it,” he says, jingling them again.
I should say no. I should tell him that I’ll stay here and help him fix my car. But if I stay, we’ll talk, and talking can lead to me telling him things. Whatever happens, the important thing is to avoid being tempted by the nearby ocean.
If I take his car, I can at least swim tonight. That will buy me one more day before the agony sets in.
I reach out and take the keys, slipping my finger into the key ring. “Are you sure?”
He nods. “Not a big deal.”
I stare at the keys for a long moment. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I look up at him, and the fluorescent lights in the garage seem to be making a halo around his head.
“Because I know you didn’t . . .” He swallows. “I know you didn’t kill him.”
My heart twists in my chest, the hollowness growing. I have the overwhelming urge to tell him he’s wrong. I did kill Steven.
I get out of the car and follow him to the other end of the garage, until we’re standing in front of his shiny SUV. “Just be nice to her, okay?”
And then before I can stop him, he wraps his arms around me, and we’re hugging. I stiffen for a moment but then give in to the temptation and rest my cheek against his shoulder, letting him hold me as I breathe in the warm, masculine scent. He smells like the woods, like one of the big cedars or a Christmas tree. “Get some rest,” he whispers.
I climb into the car and back out into the darkness. He clicks the door shut. I’m frozen for a long moment, staring at him. Just before he disappears, he gives me a wave. By the time I finally wave back, the door is already shut.
I shift into gear and leave him behind, rolling down the smooth drive. When I get to the end of his street, I turn right, heading for the mountains.
CHAPTER NINE
B y the time I’m standing in the student parking lot the next morning, it’s as if I’ve been turned inside out. My fingers ache from the icy water I used to hose off Cole’s Range Rover, and my stomach just can’t stop churning, despite the fact that I spent all night swimming.
I should feel refreshed and exhilarated and ready. But I feel like hell, like I haven’t swam in a week. I tell myself it’s because I’m worried Cole could show up and tell me that my car is dead forever, but I know that’s not it.
I can’t stop thinking about him. About the way he looked at me when he saw me cry. About him believing in my innocence. Even though I don’t deserve it, there’s something comforting about it.
It felt so good, for once, to let someone else be the strong one.
What would he do if he knew the real truth? I have to come up with something. Some way to push him away so that he never finds out what really happened, so that he never gets hurt.
I’m staring at the still dripping SUV when a familiar sound reaches my ears: my car, with its rumbling, broken exhaust. I whirl around and see Cole driving up the street. My Toyota sounds good as new. Well, as good as it’s ever been, which isn’t saying much.
He pulls in and kills the engine, then throws the door open. It lets loose with its usual screech. Any effort to fire off something antagonistic is immediately silenced by the sight of him. I used to think he was arrogant, but when I look at him now, all I see is pure confidence.
“You fixed it,” I say.
I have my car back. My life—and the life of any guy close to the ocean—aren’t at risk. It’s hard not to sigh aloud.
He smiles and the dimple appears again. It still seems out of place—something
“Hey. Calm down, okay?”
His voice, so soothing, makes me choke down the hysteria. He rests one hand on the windowsill and fishes a set of keys out of his jeans with the other. “Why don’t you take my car, and I’ll see if I can’t get yours fixed? We can swap them back tomorrow.”
I stare at the keys dangling in front of me. “I can’t take your car. It’s worth more than—”
“Take it,” he says, jingling them again.
I should say no. I should tell him that I’ll stay here and help him fix my car. But if I stay, we’ll talk, and talking can lead to me telling him things. Whatever happens, the important thing is to avoid being tempted by the nearby ocean.
If I take his car, I can at least swim tonight. That will buy me one more day before the agony sets in.
I reach out and take the keys, slipping my finger into the key ring. “Are you sure?”
He nods. “Not a big deal.”
I stare at the keys for a long moment. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I look up at him, and the fluorescent lights in the garage seem to be making a halo around his head.
“Because I know you didn’t . . .” He swallows. “I know you didn’t kill him.”
My heart twists in my chest, the hollowness growing. I have the overwhelming urge to tell him he’s wrong. I did kill Steven.
I get out of the car and follow him to the other end of the garage, until we’re standing in front of his shiny SUV. “Just be nice to her, okay?”
And then before I can stop him, he wraps his arms around me, and we’re hugging. I stiffen for a moment but then give in to the temptation and rest my cheek against his shoulder, letting him hold me as I breathe in the warm, masculine scent. He smells like the woods, like one of the big cedars or a Christmas tree. “Get some rest,” he whispers.
I climb into the car and back out into the darkness. He clicks the door shut. I’m frozen for a long moment, staring at him. Just before he disappears, he gives me a wave. By the time I finally wave back, the door is already shut.
I shift into gear and leave him behind, rolling down the smooth drive. When I get to the end of his street, I turn right, heading for the mountains.
CHAPTER NINE
B y the time I’m standing in the student parking lot the next morning, it’s as if I’ve been turned inside out. My fingers ache from the icy water I used to hose off Cole’s Range Rover, and my stomach just can’t stop churning, despite the fact that I spent all night swimming.
I should feel refreshed and exhilarated and ready. But I feel like hell, like I haven’t swam in a week. I tell myself it’s because I’m worried Cole could show up and tell me that my car is dead forever, but I know that’s not it.
I can’t stop thinking about him. About the way he looked at me when he saw me cry. About him believing in my innocence. Even though I don’t deserve it, there’s something comforting about it.
It felt so good, for once, to let someone else be the strong one.
What would he do if he knew the real truth? I have to come up with something. Some way to push him away so that he never finds out what really happened, so that he never gets hurt.
I’m staring at the still dripping SUV when a familiar sound reaches my ears: my car, with its rumbling, broken exhaust. I whirl around and see Cole driving up the street. My Toyota sounds good as new. Well, as good as it’s ever been, which isn’t saying much.
He pulls in and kills the engine, then throws the door open. It lets loose with its usual screech. Any effort to fire off something antagonistic is immediately silenced by the sight of him. I used to think he was arrogant, but when I look at him now, all I see is pure confidence.
“You fixed it,” I say.
I have my car back. My life—and the life of any guy close to the ocean—aren’t at risk. It’s hard not to sigh aloud.
He smiles and the dimple appears again. It still seems out of place—something
Similar Books
