“Maybe. But I didn’t see any other teachers in the alley putting their asses on the line for a kid that night.” His voice turned hard and angry as he started the Jeep. “Maybe if you had worried a little less about Lenny and a little more about Claire, you wouldn’t be where you are now.” He gave the gear stick a rough yank. “I think you’ve sacrificed plenty, more than Lenny ever wanted or expected—”

“How do you know what Lenny thought? He probably thought I didn’t—”

“He knew you cared. His last words were of you.”

Her mouth snapped shut. Nothing could have shocked her more. Lenny spoke of her at the end? Pressing a hand to her chest, almost afraid to ask, she whispered, “What did he say?”

She watched Gideon’s jaw tense, the muscles flexing. A loud crack of thunder fractured the silence.

“What did he say?” she repeated over the thunder’s echo, staring at the fast-darkening sky through the windshield.

“He told me to help you.” His gaze flicked to her, then back to the road. “He made me promise to help you.”

“And that’s why you’re doing this?”

Another pause. Then he answered, “No.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why then?”

“I don’t know why,” he explained, his voice impatient.

At that moment, the sky opened up and rain poured down in torrents, angrily pounding against the windshield and beating noisily on the Bikini top. The windshield wipers worked overtime, fighting the onslaught of water.

They drove on the congested four-lane highway in silence before she dared to announce, “Could we get something to eat?”

She scanned their surroundings. A myriad of restaurants blended together through a veil of rain, indistinct shapes dwarfed by tall gray buildings and taller billboards, but none were what she wanted. “There’s a place called Angelo’s near my apartment, and I could pick a few things up while we’re there.”

Thirty minutes later, a red-checkered vinyl tablecloth separated them. Gideon opened a plastic-coated menu, his hair glistening and slightly wet from the dash to Angelo’s covered portico.

“Everything’s good,” she volunteered, fluffing her own damp locks with her hand.

The waiter soon arrived and Claire placed her three-course order. Gideon didn’t blink an eye, no doubt accustomed to her unending eat-fest.

“Maybe we could go grocery shopping after this and get some things for the house.”

His eyes shot to hers over the rim of his glass, wide and unblinking in his expressionless face. He took his time setting his glass back down on the table before saying quietly, “I don’t think so.”

“It’d be nice if—”

“It’d be nice,” Gideon interrupted, “if you stopped trying to play house with me.”

Heat flooded her face. “I only suggested we buy groceries so we don’t have to keep eating out.”

“You made my bed,” he cut in.