He blinked a few times. “I guess I did. Well, then . . . fuck.”
* * *
Carmine held Haven tightly, the two of them enjoying the newfound silence. The fireworks had stopped and the crowd quieted, so all that was left was the two of them in the darkness. He could smell her shampoo, feminine and sweet, and all he could think about was how sexy she looked. Those other girls, with their and miniskirts and makeup, weren’t sexy to him anymore. La mia bella ragazza, with her chewed-up fingernails and flushed cheeks, was sexy. Because sexiness wasn’t manufactured—the shit was real.
She was real.
“I never hoped for a future until I met you,” she said after a while, “but I want us to have one.”
“You don’t know how much I love hearing you say that.” He brushed her hair aside and ran his tongue up her neck, circling her earlobe. “Can I keep you?” he whispered, laughing and pulling away from her as soon as the words came out. “What’s wrong with me? I’m quoting Casper.”
She glanced back at him. “Casper?”
“Yeah, Casper the friendly ghost.” He hoped she knew what he was talking about, but she just stared at him. “It doesn’t matter. It’s some stupid movie. You’d probably like it.”
A hard edge laced her voice. “What are you saying?”
He blanched. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t suggesting you’d like it because it was stupid or because you’re stupid.” He groaned. “Not that you’re stupid, because you aren’t. That didn’t come out right. You know I don’t think that. You’d have to be fucking stupid not to see you’re smart.” He paused. “I should probably shut up now.”
The corner of her lips turned up as she leaned back against him. “Thank you.”
“For knowing when to shut up?”
She laughed. “No, for always thinking about my feelings. I know that’s not something you’re used to doing. I’ve never had someone look out for me before.”
“I’ll always do what’s best for you, Haven,” he said. “I’ve thought about it a lot, you know. After I turn eighteen and can access my trust fund, we could disappear together and get away from all of this bullshit. Probably couldn’t take the Mazda, though, since it has a GPS chip in it.”
“A GPS chip,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” Carmine looked at his watch. “You wanna head home?”
She nodded. They climbed into the car, and he put it in gear, driving down the small road toward the highway as Haven looked out the side window at the trees lining the road.
“What’s wrong?” She was being too silent.
“I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I was chipped, too.”
He looked at her with confusion, turning down the music in the car. “What do you mean?”
“Like your car—a GPS chip.”
Carmine slammed the brakes as soon as the words registered, the car skidding to a stop with a loud squeal. Haven braced her hands against the dash, eyes wide with shock.
“There’s a tracking chip on you? Where?”
“It’s in me,” she said. “Under my skin.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding. Your father chipped you like a dog?”
She shook her head. “My father didn’t do it. Yours did.”
He blinked a few times. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. He stuck the needle into my back. He also scraped my cheek with some kind of cotton swab. I don’t know why, but he did it. He said I can never escape. It’s impossible.”