Layla came out of the kitchen, a package of Pop-tarts and a small bottle of orange juice in her hands. “Drive carefully,” she told me with a warm smile.
For some reason tears burned my eyes, and I could only nod as I left the guesthouse. Layla was my rock. She had been the mother I needed when I was growing up. The day that our mom tossed her out was the worst day of my life. I cried myself to sleep for six months, wanting my sister to tuck me in because Mom wouldn’t. I was only nine, but within a week I was doing things that some grown women didn’t even know how to do—like cooking my own dinner and washing my own clothes.
Just before Mom died she and I had been arguing a lot. I was scared to death that she was ready to kick me out too. Lucy was still so young, so defenseless. It sounds inhumane but I had breathed a sigh of relief when Lydia Daniels died. Moving in with Layla had been the best thing to happen to me since the day I had last seen her.
I was five minutes late for my first class because traffic was so horrible that morning. The teacher let me off with a warning and a lecture on punctuality. Really, I would have rather taken the detention than hear that bag of hot air preaching to me. At lunch I had to settle on a bag of chips and a bottle of water because nothing the lunch ladies had fixed looked edible. Of course Mr. Mills was his usual douche bag self to me during English. I was about five seconds away from telling that prick off when my phone vibrated.
Glancing down at my desk, I saw a text from Drake.
Wanna grab dinner later? Me, you and Shane?
Definitely! I quickly answered back.
I thought my shitty day was over until I got into Layla’s car after school and the damned thing refused to start. Muttering a few choice curses that would land me a scolding from my sister, I popped the hood on the old car then wondered what I had expected to accomplish by doing that. I wasn’t exactly mechanically inclined!
I thought about calling Layla but knew that she wouldn’t know what to do any more than I did. Fishing out my phone from my back pocket, I texted Drake.
Know anything about cars?
A little.
Layla’s car won’t start… I texted, not sure if I was asking him to be my white knight or not…
On my way, Angel!
My heart turned all mushy when he had quickly come to my rescue without me really even asking. It took him thirty minutes to get to my school. A taxi pulled up beside me and both Drake and Shane stepped out. I was one of three cars left in the parking lot. As soon as I saw them, I got out of the car. I put the time to good use by finishing up my Calculus homework while I waited.
Shane had a backwards ball cap on his shaggy head and sunglasses over his eyes. Drake was sporting some scruff on his sexy jaw, and I was almost hypnotized by him. “Thanks for coming. Sorry to pull you guys away from the studio.”
“You’re more important,” Drake said, making my heart melt all over again. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Layla’s car on the other hand? Well, I’ll leave it to you guys to determine that.”
Shane fiddled with some wires, checked some fluid levels, and then tried to start the engine. It did more for him than it had for me by making a gravely noise, but it still didn’t start. He pushed his glasses up on top of his hat and shook his head. His dangerous good looks were startling when you had those blue-gray eyes looking right at you. He and Drake looked so much alike they could have passed for twins at first glance. Drake was a few inches taller than his brother, but Shane was wider in the shoulders.
“I’ll get it towed,” Shane said after he told me what he thought was wrong with it. I didn’t really understand anything that had come out of his mouth, but I knew that it wasn’t a good thing.
“Great,” I muttered. “How am I going to get to school tomorrow?”
“We can drop you off before we go into the studio,” Drake assured me. I started to argue that it would be too far out of their way, but he gave me a look that told me I was best to keep my mouth shut. Not wanting to start another fight when the last one had left me miserable, I just nodded.
The tow truck arrived, and Shane called a taxi for us. I had already texted Layla with what was going on so she wouldn’t worry that I was so late getting home. But apparently she had already known about the car trouble and that the Stevenson brothers were helping me out.
“Let’s grab something to eat before we go home,” Shane suggested. “I’m freaking starving.”
“I could eat,” Drake agreed. “What do you feel like eating, Angel?”
I sat between them in the back of the taxi, leaning into Drake more so I could have an excuse to touch him. “I don’t care. Anything sounds good right now.” It was almost dinner time, and I was running on a Pop-tart and a bag of chips. I was hungry enough to be borderline ravenous.