He snarls and tries to fight me until he realizes who’s dragging him. By the time we’re to the car door, he wordlessly climbs in and spreads out on the bench seat with a groan.

I get behind the wheel and buckle up, turning for one more glimpse of her before the cabin light dims and casts us in darkness.

I avoid the meandering drunk people as I weave slowly down the side street. Each time we pass under a streetlight, I look over at her. She’s docile, almost sweet, right now. It’s disconcerting. As much as I thought I hated that bratty fire behind her eyes, now that it’s gone, I miss it.

I reach over in the dark and grip her leg to make sure she knows she’s not in this alone. When I pull my hand away, it’s covered in mud.

“You’re filthy,” I mutter, lifting my hand closer to my face to inspect the grass and mud caked into the fabric of her jeans before wiping it on my pant leg.

Fielding snorts from the back seat.

“Dem thinks you’re a dirty girl, Little Wheeler.”

I whip my head around so fast I panic and hit the brakes. Fielding umphs in the back, and Maddie reaches out to brace herself on the dash. I scan the length of the girl in the passenger seat. When I meet her gaze, I swear we’re wearing matching expressions.

Fielding’s comment was a joke. But it hit way too fucking close to the truth.

I shake my head subtly, desperately, and she nods in understanding.

He can never know.

I reach for her hand and squeeze it once in gratitude, easing the car back up to speed as I make my way out of the development.

We drive in silence from the north end of town toward downtown Hampton. Maddie’s staring out her open window, and Fielding’s snoring in the back—he can literally fall asleep anywhere. I’ll be up every hour all night to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion. But sure, bro, take a nap while I safely get you home and save your reckless ass. Again.

I slow the car when the speed limit drops from thirty-five to twenty-five near the green. Then I startle when Maddie takes my hand in the dark. She squeezes once, but she doesn’t let go like I did. I close my eyes for the briefest moment and try to garner the strength to shake her off. The resolve doesn’t come.

I should pull back. I should brush her off. I should stop letting things go too far with her. But her tiny hand is a comfort I didn’t know I needed tonight.