“Are you ready to go?” There’s a note of pleading in his tone that makes my heart turn rubbery inside my chest.
I let my unanswered question go for now. “Yeah.”
We start moving toward the door. It’s less crowded now but the music is louder. Or maybe I’m just craving the soft caress of lake waves against the sandy shore or the stillness of the morning.
Linden touches my low back. It’s only the tip of his fingers against my bare skin, but the shiver that climbs up my spine makes my breath hitch in my throat and a needy ache thrum deep in my core.
That old Fleetwood Mac song rings through my mind. About players who only love when they’re playing, and a heartbeat that drives you mad.
Outside, the cool air wraps around me, sending an electric pulse skipping over my skin.
“You want me to bring the truck?” Linden asks, his brows knitting together.
“I’m okay.” We clear the driveway and turn down the sidewalk. “Who was that?”
He gives me a sideways glance. “Vance Neely.”
“I take it you two have a history?”
He inhales a full breath and lets it out, puffing his cheeks. “It’s good we left.”
So we’re back to him sidestepping my questions. I release a frustrated sigh.
My dad was a football coach. I’ve seen my share of testosterone in action. But what I just witnessed wasn’t some pissing contest. The strain between Linden and Vance Neely has deep roots.
At the truck, Linden unlocks my door and opens it. In a move we have practiced, he sets my crutches aside then grabs me around the waist to lift me in. His warm hands on my waist and his closeness send a delicious hum through my core.
But it’s like he’s on autopilot, or maybe he’s still processing whatever just happened, because he pulls back and shuts my door. Once he’s behind the wheel, we sit in the darkness.
The entire left side of my body feels heavy and my kneecap aches. My left toes are cold, which the doctors said to expect for a while.
“Did I do something?” I want to reach for his hand but I don’t feel like he’d welcome my touch. It’s confusing. One minute, he’s got his hands on me. The next, he’s erected an invisible force field to keep me away.
He glances at me, surprised. “Why would you think that?”
Because give a girl a void and she’ll fill it with self-blame. “You didn’t have to come tonight.”
“I wanted to.”
“Why?”
He flashes me a stern glance. “Because I told you I’d take care of you.”
“I wouldn’t have gone home with him.” The words are all wrong but it’s too late to take them back.
Linden’s body goes stone-still and all emotion drains from hiseyes. It’s like looking down, down, into an abyss. Then he slides his key into the ignition. The truck rumbles to life, then he checks the road and pulls onto the street.
I sigh out my open window and let the summer night air cool my cheeks.
Chapter Fourteen
It takeseighty-five fucking years to get home.
“You can drop me at my house, if you’d rather be alone,” Meg says as I turn down our street.
I force a breath through my nose. “Is that what you want?”
“I’ll be fine,” she says, her chin jutting out.
