Page 28 of Shut Up and Drive

My chest aches, and guilt bubbles from the recesses in my heart to the surface. I used to pride myself on how I knew Thane better than anyone else—even Bash—yet I didn’t see through the façade he put on.

“I left a porch light on for you for years,” I whisper into the darkness.

The silence that follows my quiet confession hangs between us like a heavy fog. I hold my breath and wait for his response to shatter the stillness. But instead of words, one warm pinky laces into mine by my side. The dam oftears I’m holding back breaches the banks, and I swat at them as they fall, hoping the night will hide my emotion.

“Don’t cry,” he says softly, reaching up to find my cheek.

He misses his mark and pokes my eye instead, flipping the switch from crying back to laughing. I’m a mess of emotions, snotting all over myself. Which is another reason to be grateful for the power outage, because I can hide my ugly laugh-crying from him.

“Sorry about that.” He chuckles, handing me a tissue from his nightstand. “I’m not very good at this.”

“That’s okay,” I say softly. “I’m not either.” The vulnerability tugs at me, begging me to dive deeper into the hurt I carry. But I shove it aside. “Tell me more about Europe.”

“Hmm. Where to start? I thought Paris was a bit overrated, and the subways smelled like urine, but the Eiffel Tower sparkled at night. That part was pretty amazing. That made the whole trip worth it, right there. And, of course, the chocolate croissants.

“Then there was Italy. Fina, it wassobeautiful,sofull of picturesque places and incredible architecture. It was hard to pick a favorite, but I left a little piece of me behind in Venice. When a gondolier’s boat passed by, his songs echoed off the old buildings, making it sound like a whole group of voices, not just one. And the whole city bustled with life, but the sounds were the low hum of boats instead of honking horns and traffic like New York City. I read at an outdoor café, sipping espressos all day long, just so I could absorb it all. It still wasn’t enough. The food is delicious, and people dress so classy. Withpurpose,you know? Thenthere’s the history behind the beauty. You would love it there.”

I lie next to him, wrapped in his velvety voice, gazing in awe at the mental picture his words painted. I could almost taste the flaky French croissants and strong Italian espresso.

His words hang in the air for a beat before he adds, “Everything there reminded me of you. Italy is where I missed you most.”

Inside, I feel like the sparkling Eiffel Tower. I remind myself to breathe and be cool, but it’s everything I can do to hold back and keep my heart safe.

“Fina?” Thane says softly. “Are you asleep?”

I don’t know how to answer. Part of me wants so badly to pour my heart out and mend every inch of broken fence we share. But the other part is hurt and jaded by love. She has been my protector for years, keeping my heart locked away and guarded. I owe her everything. She is the reason I moved forward when I thought I couldn’t take another step. And she wins. She always wins. So I stay silent and let him think I’ve fallen asleep. It’s better this way. Easier.Safer.

What I’m not prepared for is when he kisses my forehead softly and whispers in the darkness, “The whole thing would’ve been better with you.”

Chapter 10

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

Thane

The next morning, I wake up with Sera tangled up in my arms. Her wild hair cascades across my chest, and I’m shown exactly what life would’ve been like if I’d stayed. Her soft breath on my neck makes me wish for eighty more years of this: wrinkled and gray, but still madly in love with each other. I want so badly to trace the edge of her skin where her T-shirt hangs off her shoulder, but I stop myself. The sunrise peeking through our curtains means that any minute, she could rouse. I sure as hell can’t jeopardize the progress we made last night, and I know if she wakes up wrapped around me, she’ll pull away even harder. So I think moremarathonthansprint: take in one deep breath to memorize the way her body feels against mine, then slide out of bed before she stirs.

I make my side of the bed out of habit, get dressed quickly, and wander downstairs to find Pearl serving breakfast toother guests.

“Hi, darlin’. How was your night?” she asks with a wink.

“Not like you’re insinuating, although I may or may not have cut the ties on your blanket… andpossiblybroken the bed frame.”

She shoots me a knowing grin, and as I open my mouth to protest her assumption, she nudges me and says, “That wouldn’t be the first time.” She pivots on her heels and smacks an empty table. “Sit! Let me feed you.”

“I think I’d rather just take breakfast back up to the room, if you don’t mind,” I reply. “Sera is still asleep.”

“Of course she is,” Pearl says while she pours me a cup of coffee.

“No. It’s not like that,” I insist.

“It may not be right now, but it will be soon. Just you wait.”

That comment gives me pause, so I press for answers. “Just for curiosity’s sake, why do you think that?”

“Son, I’m an eighty-year-old woman with cataracts, and Istillcould see in the dim candlelight the love that girl has in her eyes for you.”

I fight a smile and shift in my seat. “Well, she hates my guts most of the time, so…”