Good Girl Gone (The Reed Brothers 7)

He laughs. “Surprised?”

I don’t know what to say. I assumed he had always been poor. He was in a gang, for Christ’s sake. “A little,” I squeak.

“I didn’t go to jail for the accident. Technically, I killed someone when I drove drunk. I should have been locked up, but my parents had money and they thought they could buy my way out of it.”

“If they bought your way out of it, why did they send you to live with your grandmother?”

“Lilly woke up.” He takes a deep breath and his chest bellows with air. “She was in a coma for months. They worked on my legal issues while she was asleep. Then she woke up and it was obvious she was never going to be the same, and they couldn’t live with the shame of it. My buddy and his girlfriend, they were from poor families, so they were of no consequence to them. But Lilly…they had to face her parents every day. When my parents found out she would never go back to being the perky cheerleader they once had hopes of getting as a daughter-in-law, they sent me away. Their private shame went to live with his grandmother, instead of staying with them.”

He holds up his hand when I open my mouth to protest.

“It’s okay. It was for the best. I couldn’t look at Lilly every day knowing what I did to her.”

“So that…that was her mother who called you?”

He nods. “She says Lilly wants to see me.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “And that’s why we’re here.”

“Do you want to see your parents while you’re here?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No. I’m here for Lilly. Nothing else. I don’t want my parents’ money. I don’t need their blessing. I just need to see if she’s truly all right.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, dragging the word out. I don’t know what to say.

“I don’t know what Lilly remembers. She may not remember anything. Or she may remember everything. I need to find out. I need to find out if there’s anything I can do to make her life better.” He looks into my eyes. “I owe her that.”

“Do you love her?” I don’t know why that makes my heart ache, but it does. It shouldn’t.

“I love her the way my sixteen-year-old self can love her.” He shakes his head. “But I’m not in love with her. It was just assumed that we would marry. We were thrown together from the time we were in diapers. I didn’t have a choice.” His eyes meet mine. “But she was my friend.”

He sits quietly. The sound of birds chirping is the only thing that disturbs the heavy silence that cloaks the car like a water-logged blanket.

“I just want to see if she’s okay. That’s all.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Thank you for coming with me.” He smiles at me. Then he cups my face in his palm and drags the pad of his thumb across my lower lip. “I really like you,” he tells me. “But if you want me to put you on a plane back home, now that you know the truth, just say the word. I’ll make it happen.”

“I want to stay here. With you. Please.”

He smiles and puts the car in gear. “Okay then.” He pulls away from the curb, but he suddenly hits the brakes when a woman comes out onto the veranda of his old house. She shades her hands with her eyes. He stares at her.

“Is that your mom?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

But he doesn’t wait. He pulls away and drives off. I catch him staring into the rear view mirror. He doesn’t know that I see him. And I’m not even sure he realizes he’s doing it, but his eyes are trained on his mother. It’s not anger I feel in his glare. It’s hurt. But I’m sure he doesn’t want me to know, so I turn up the radio and start to sing along. Loudly. He jerks his eyes from the mirror and looks at me, then smiles broadly. He shakes his head and then he starts to sing along too.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Hotel.” He doesn’t say more. Just that one word. My gut twists, but it’s not an altogether unpleasant sensation. Not when I’m with him. For the first time ever, I’m not afraid of the flip in my belly when a man looks at me.

Josh

Star doesn’t try to get my wheelchair out of the backseat when we get to the hotel. That both surprises and elates me, all at once. As a disabled man, I find it really common for people to want to do things for me. And as just a man, it makes me resent them—or at least resent the fact that they might think I can’t do for myself.

I transfer from the car into my chair, after dragging it out of the backseat by myself. Star has her bag slung over her shoulder by the time I join her on the sidewalk, and mine is sitting in the trunk. She doesn’t reach for it, but I see her eyes slide to it over and over again while she waits. “I’m guessing you’ll tell me if there’s ever anything you need help with, right?” she says quietly.

I grab my bag and set it in my lap. “Right.” I smile at her. She makes me feel more like a man than anyone has in a really long time. Then she takes her bag off her shoulder and sets it in my lap too.

“Good,” she says. “Carry mine, too.” She grins and walks toward the door.

I bark out a laugh and she looks over her shoulder at me.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing.” But my heart is beating a quick rhythm in my chest. It’s happiness.

She opens the door and steps to the side so I can go in front of her, and I don’t resent it in the least, since I’m carrying both my luggage and hers.