The car swung into motion.

“Sorry to interrupt your day,” Claire said. “I don’t have my license, and neither does Abby. Abby’s mom usually comes by for me, but she’s shopping with friends right now, and I couldn’t think of who else to call.”

“It’s not a problem,” Leah assured her.

Leah and Claire made small talk until they arrived at Abby’s house.

“Should we come back by for you later?” Leah asked.

“No, Abby’s mom can drive me home.”

“Then I’ll see you at school Monday.”

“Yep. Thanks again.”

Wordlessly, Leah and Sebastian watched Claire approach the front door. Abby answered, and Claire disappeared inside.

They headed toward town through a natural tunnel of autumn trees.

Leah contemplated Sebastian’s chiseled profile and strong throat. Dr. Grant. Purveyor of disco ball slow dances to ’80s songs. Surgeon. Orphan. Friend of Ben. The most phenomenal kisser in the universe. Today, he wore a North Face jacket over a collared white shirt and black pants.

“Do we still have time to make the show?” she asked.

“I think so. We might be a few minutes late, but I’m guessing they won’t turn us away.”

Last night—at the football game and afterward at his house—had been something for the memory books. As delicious as a cookie warm out of the oven.

He’d been on her mind every waking minute since. And many of her non-waking minutes, too. After their first date, both her old anxiety dreams and her wonderful Sebastian dreams had given way to silky, dreamless sleep. But last night he’d finally visited her in her dreams again. They’d been caught in a sandstorm in the desert, but when he’d taken her into his arms, a globe of safety had formed around them that the sand hadn’t been able to penetrate.

“Thank you for helping me with Claire,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” His hard jawline didn’t soften. “If she calls you again and asks you to come to her house, will you promise me that you won’t go over there alone?”

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked her to promise to behave in a certain way. Which might speak to her independence. Or to her good choices. Or to the fact that not many people were close enough to her to care about her safety.

Before she could formulate an answer, they reached a stoplight. He gazed at her. “If something violent is happening with Claire, do you agree that you should call the police and let them handle it?”

“I do.”

“And if the situation’s troubling but not violent, like today, and you decide to pick her up, I still think you should bring someone. Me, if I’m in town. But since I’m usually not, maybe Ben. Or Ben’s dad, Hersh.”