With a long exhale, I slipped into my Mustang and pulled away before I gave in to temptation and joined them.

***

Jessica

The next two weeks went by in a blur. I immersed myself in my internship, working long hours that weren’t really needed. I left the house early in the morning, and came back for dinner. Jason tried to lure me to talk after the meal, but I retreated to my bedroom.

My mother called a few times, telling me that Papa was awake, but I refused to go. I knew I would have to face him again, but I wasn’t ready for that yet.

On Saturday, the girls camped at my house after family lunch.

“Come on, Jess,” Sophie said, seated on the swing on the back porch.

“It’s going to be fun,” Rachel said. She reached over the table and grabbed one of the caramel cookies Mama had put out for them. “We haven’t gone out just the three of us since you arrived.”

Sophie tsked. “Rach is right. You’ve been here for seven weeks, and we haven’t really been out yet.”

Rachel showed me a fake pout. “In another five weeks, you’ll be gone.”

Gosh, had it been that long already? Longing and despair filled my chest. The idea of going back home made me happy. I couldn’t wait to go back to Cleveland, enjoy my nights with grandma, go out with Kristin, and study architecture. But, at the same time, when I thought about leaving Rachel and Sophie and Mama and Jason and Lindsey and even Luke, my heart squeezed. It would be hard this time.

I shook my head. “I don’t know, girls. I’m really not in the mood.”

Rachel and Sophie exchanged a look.

“Okay, then,” Sophie said. “We’ll stay here. Have a girls’ night in.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Why not?” Rachel asked. “We already know this town and everyone in it. Nothing that we haven’t seen before will happen in one night. Besides, you’re not staying for long. We would rather spend time with you.”

“True that,” Sophie said.

Tears brimmed in my eyes. “You guys are the best.”

***

The girls stayed until four in the morning, and they only left because, according to our neighbors, we were making too much noise, which was true. We made chocolate popcorn, watched a tearjerker movie, and then sat on the back porch and talked—and laughed and yelled—for a long, long time.

“Thank goodness, Ryan told you about what happened,” Sophie said.

“Poor guy,” Rachel said. “He hasn’t been the same since you left.”

Slimy, thick guilt took over my heart. It hadn’t left me by Sunday evening or Monday morning, and it was because of that guilt that I called Mama in the afternoon and asked her to bake a special Devil’s Food cake. After work, I stopped by the house to retrieve it, and then drove back downtown.

I parked the truck behind the Mustang. As I expected, the garage was open and Ryan was leaning over the Harley in the same fashion he was a week ago. Damp hair, bare back, jeans, and boots.

I swallowed. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come over after all. Before I could chicken out, Ryan turned around and saw me. His eyes widened at first, then narrowed into thin slits. He stood from his crouch as I opened the truck’s door and walked inside the garage.

“Hi,” I said, feeling incredibly lame.

“Hey.” He grabbed a towel from one of his toolboxes and wiped his hands.

“I-I brought you this.” I extended the cake toward him.

His eyebrows shot up. “Devil’s Food cake.”

“Yes. It used to be your favorite.”

“It still is.”

“Good.” Seeing as he wouldn’t take it from me, I stepped to the side, and left the cake on one of the worktables.

Ryan stared at me, his hazel eyes completely lost, and I returned the stare. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I wouldn’t back down. I would be here for him, even if he didn’t want me to.

I sat down on a stool next to his bike. “So, why haven’t you finished this one yet?”

He picked up the black shirt over one of the toolboxes, hiding his incredible physique, then crouched between the bike and me. “I did spend quite some time away.”

Damn, couldn’t I have touched a lighter subject? “Sorry,” I whispered.

Ignoring my apology, he continued, “Besides, I like working on it. If I finish too fast, I’ll have to find another one to play with.” My gaze shifted to the other bike, to his racing bike, destroyed against the wall. “I didn’t fix that one after the accident. It’s a good reminder of how stupid I can be.”

“Sorry,” I said again.

He shot me a hard stare. “Stop apologizing, Jessica.” He looked like he would have said more if it wasn’t for the loud dings coming from my cell phone, one right after the one. His cold eyes fixed on my phone. “Looks like someone wants to talk to you.”

I fished my phone from my pocket and looked at the screen as three more dings filled the tense air. As I suspected, the messages were from Gavin. Without reading the messages, I pocketed my phone.

“He can wait.”

His brows knotted, and I thought Ryan would shut down again or snap at me. Instead, he pointed to the toolbox behind me. “Hand me that wrench.”

There were at least six different wrenches in the toolbox. I picked up a random one. “This one?”

“The one on the left side of that one.” The corner of his lips tugged up.

I handed him the right wrench. “Is this funny?”

“A little.” He turned his attention to the bike.

It was at the same time odd and comforting to be here with Ryan, this close to him, while he worked. We spent most of the two hours I stayed in silence, and when I left, I felt like the weight on my shoulders had lessened by a pound or two.

Chapter Eighteen

Jessica

“Do you think we got enough beer?” Sophie asked, pushing the cart with two packs of thirty-six cans of beer through the aisle. There were also two whiskeys and few wine bottles.

I snorted. “If they drink half of that, I’ll be worried.”

Behind us, Rachel pushed another cart with the food. Hot dogs, hamburgers, sausages, steak strips, potatoes, carrots, and a lot more.

Her parents were out of town, and they had allowed her to have us over for a fun but quiet evening barbecue around the pool. I was wondering if they knew her friends, because quiet probably wasn’t on the menu.

We exited the aisle, aiming for the cashiers, when a blond girl cut in our way.

Caryn.

Wearing a mini jean skirt that looked more like a belt, a sports bra top, and with too much makeup for a Saturday morning, she put her hands on her hips and stopped in front of our cart.

“Jessica, there you are,” she said, the venom in her voice dripping with each word. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t think so.” I steered the cart to the side, but she stepped in the way. “Let us pass, Caryn.”

“Not until you tell me what you think you’re doing?” She leaned over the cart. “Going to Ryan’s garage after work. Are you trying to win him back?”

“What?”

“You have no right to march in here and claim him. He’s mine.”

“Caryn, Ryan can’t stand you,” Rachel said.

She snorted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He loves me.”

Sophie pulled the cart back. “Ignore her.”

“I won’t be ignored,” Caryn said, her voice louder.

A few heads turned to us.

“Caryn, back off,” I said.

“Back off?” Caryn took a step toward me. “Back off Ryan? Never, bitch. He’s mine.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Rachel asked. “You sound like a nut job.”

Caryn glared at me. “I was there for him when nobody else was. I was there for his hearings. I went to visit him in prison twice a week. And I still take snacks to him while he’s at that damn community service.”

The guilt came back, followed closely by jealousy and frustration.