At the Stars(38)

“You told me the same thing about yourself,” she says. “So far I haven’t seen any evidence to support either statement. Show me some, why don’t you?”

Fuck, she may as well have come up and wrapped her hand around my throat. She’s challenging me, and we both know it.

I stand in her doorway without an answer because at the moment I can only see two moves. I don’t like either one: turn and leave, or tell her the truth.



Cassie

Jake’s looking at me like he swallowed a handful of thumbtacks and doesn’t want to admit to the pain. His Adam’s apple bobs slowly while his sharp eyes home in on mine.

I’ve pushed him, made him angry or uncomfortable. As he rubs his fingers against his thumb, my heart races like it did the night I stared down that truck. Is he pissed? Is he finally going to reveal this big secret he’s been dangling like a rotten carrot?

I wish he would.

He rubs his fingers together again. “Look, about the car—”

“Oh, okay.” I flop back against the pillows on my temporary bed. “So you’re going to avoid the question.” If my mother were here she’d tell me I’m being rude. Maybe I am, but so is he. I feel like he’s, I dunno, stringing me along or something. I’ve had enough stuff that twists up my head to last a lifetime.

I liked this guy. He’s trying to turn it into something bad and wrong. Don’t I deserve to have a crush for once? Just a crush—something that doesn’t turn out warped and awful? He says I can’t like him because he’s got some big secret or something, but so far all I see is a guy who’s afraid I’ll get clingy. That’s no secret. That’s every guy I’ve ever heard of.

“We never finished talking about your car problem,” he murmured.

My stomach twists. I don’t want to talk about my car. I know my answer. I don’t like it, but it’s the only right one. “I can’t take your car. I Googled that thing. It’s worth like twenty grand. I can’t pay you anything close to what it’s worth, and no way you’re going to give it to me.”

Now he’s smiling and stepping inside the room. God, I wish I could get a handle on this guy. So many days I feel like I’m all over the place. And him? I totally can’t get a read. He likes me. He doesn’t. He’s a good guy. He isn’t.

“It’s like I told you,” he says. “It’s a collector car.”

I put my hands out to the side. “Well. That explains everything.”

Well, at least that got a laugh out of him. “It actually does. They don’t make that model anymore, so that makes them worth a little money sometimes. It’s only worth that much if there’s a buyer somewhere in the area willing to come and haul it away for me, and mine has some damage. If you look around long enough, you’ll find them ranging in price from a few thousand to probably more than twenty.”

I push my toes into the holes of my blanket for something to do. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I guess. It’s supposed to. My point is it’s really only worth what a buyer will pay and I haven’t found a buyer.” He comes over to the bed. I think he’s going to sit next to me, but instead he kneels on the floor, putting us eye to eye. “So sitting in my back yard with nothing to do, it’s worth zilch to me. And you need a car. You see what I mean?”

It’s a strange and intimate arrangement, having him here in front of me this way. On his knees.

I lick my lips, but my whole mouth has gone dry. “Maybe. Except someone else might come along who can afford to pay you more.”

“I’m tired of waiting.” He puts a hand on my knee and my fingertips tingle. “The thing is, my mother passed away, too. Not so recently as yours. It sucks to say we weren’t super close, but she did buy me that car when I was a teenager. A neighbor had taken shitty care of it, and they were selling it cheap. My dad and I fixed it up.”

Pain pricks my skin. I don’t like the idea of taking away a piece of his history. “So wouldn’t you want to keep the car? The sentimental value—”

“Sentimental value isn’t always good, Cassie.” I try not to shiver at the way he says my name so low and quiet, the way he squeezes my knee to impress his point on me. “My dad checked out after Mom died. Got remarried. Stopped caring much about what I did. More than anything, that car’s a bad reminder. If you took it from me, you’d be doing me a favor.”

He’s almost got me convinced. It still doesn’t feel right. “You’re serious?”