Page 102 of Crash Course

Sure it did. It saved you.

She was trying to protect me. I don’t know how she feels, but I have to believe it’s something.

“She wanted me to apologize for hitting her the first day of the semester. She thinks I’m an asshole.” My hand closes around the ring. “Maybe she’s right.”

Theo shoves both hands in his pockets with a curse. “I can’t fix your collarbone. But I can tell her the truth.”

I stare at him, suspicion turning into disbelief when he continues.

“I’ll tell her it was me who drove into her with the Porsche.”

32

Theo: We need to talk.

Shay: I’m kind of mad at you right now.

Theo: This won’t help.

33

Shay

The garage at the Ashford mansion is quiet except for the speaker in the corner playing “The Hills.” Moody bass under the vocal track, low enough it seeps into the concrete.

Behind the Porsche and the Lambo, tucked in the back corner under lights, there’s one person working.

Jameson’s wearing jeans and a tank streaked with grease. I expected to see him in a sling, but there’s nothing. He’s bent over a car that’s low and wide, with a long hood and a sharp nose.

“Nice Stingray,” I say to break the silence. The body is fiberglass, with the faint ripple old Corvettes get that makes them classic, not perfect.

“I’ve been rebuilding it for a couple of years.”

I circle it, eyeing up the chassis, peering past him at the engine. “It’s a ’70.”

“ ’69.”

He looks like a European guy. This car…isn’t.

“Where’d you find it?”

“A guy in town needed to unload it. A friend of a friend who’d run into some money problems. I probably paid twice what it was worth, but it seemed like the least I could do.”

It’s another reminder that in public, he’s rich and entitled. In private, he’s a different person.

“Why did you let me believe it was you driving the Porsche?” My voice echoes in the garage.

Jameson swipes grease onto a towel without looking up. “Theo had a demerit on his license for careless driving after my mom left. Taking the blame could’ve ruined his career. He didn’t deserve that.”

“So instead it had to be you.”

He rethreads a bolt, focused and steady. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It is a huge fucking deal, Jameson.” I take a step closer. “Just because you decided it would be better if everyone thought it was you instead of Theo doesn’t make it okay.”

He straightens to grab a different wrench.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” I ask.