“It terrifies me that I might not be ready. It shakes me to the bone to think that I might be exactly the same girl I was at sixteen, ready to make the same mistakes again. Still too hungry for attention. Too eager to please.”

There. She’d said it. She’d voiced her greatest fear.

“I’m pretty sure you know that’s bullshit, Glo,” Aldo said, gently rubbing her neck.

Somedays she was sure. Other days, all she had to do was see Mrs. Diller and her carefully crafted confidence crumbled.

49

They rode like that for long minutes of silence as streetlights shone intermittently through the windshield. Neither of them inclined to speak. Their wounds were open, confessions made, and they were both still here. Aldo was here. Not running away from her baggage. Not blaming her for her choices. Not trying to control her reactions. Just letting her be.

She’d never felt more vulnerable, her truths all spilled and served up for someone else’s consumption. In turn, she knew the weight he’d carried. He’d blamed himself for her being hurt.

“Did you know we had the same study hall together the year before?” she asked him quietly.

“We did not.”

“We did. In Mr. Fink’s biology classroom. You sat at one of the lab tables in the back with your jock buddies. I was the good girl up front shooting you looks of longing.”

“I would have noticed you.”

“You didn’t. I was flat-chested and had braces.”

He gave a gruff laugh and gave her neck another gentle squeeze.

Aldo pulled into the parking lot at Blooms and eased to a stop next to Gloria’s car. He unclipped his seatbelt, and Gloria sighed.

“You don’t have to get out and walk me to my car that is barely three feet away.”

“I’m a gentleman,” he insisted, flashing her a wolfish look. “Besides, I like kissing you without a console between us.”

Swoon.

It was official. Tonight was going down in Gloria’s book as the best night of her life.

She stepped out of the truck, and Aldo met her in the space between their vehicles, his broad chest and shoulders blocking out the night. She brought her hands to his pecs, mindful of his fresh ink.

“Thank you for the flowers,” she said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for dinner.” She kissed the other side. “And thank you for being honest.”

She was moving in to capture his mouth full-on when he stopped her. Big, careful hands on her upper arms.

“Gloria. I need you to get in the truck.” His eyes were hard and fixed on something behind her.

“What? Why?”

She turned and saw the scratches in the side of her car.

Whore.

* * *