Even though Rico knew none of the details, he knew that Ashna’s parents had inflicted the kind of hurt on her that had become woven into her fabric. Her father had willfully snatched the possibility of happiness from her hands. How Rico hated him. Not for the first time, Rico regretted how badly he had reacted to the man.

For years he had been too angry to admit it, but the things he had said to Ashna about her father had been thoughtless. It had ruined everything, pushed her into a corner where she’d had to choose between Rico and him. And she had made her choice.

At least her mother was a safe topic. “If your mother is here to fix things, why don’t you want her to?”

They were at a standstill again and Ashna wiggled the gear stick impatiently. “Is it that easy? To fix things you broke?”

He stared out the window. Six lanes of traffic unable to move, the gridlock turning a small distance endless.

“I don’t know.” He stayed silent for a while before speaking again. “But does it matter?” He twisted in his seat and met her eyes, the glossy black clouded with painful memories. “Does it matter if it’s easy or hard? If the person is essential to you, then fixing things with them is essential.” The word felt magical in his mouth. The way his tongue wrapped around it, he could almost taste it. Essential.

That’s how this felt. Being here. Figuring this out. Her. “Your mother isn’t someone you can just cut out of your life. If you could, you would have by now.”

Her knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. He’d hit a nerve.

“Or you find a way to stop the person from being essential to you.” She slipped a glance his way. “How do you do that?”

Was she suggesting that it was something he had greater expertise at than her?

All he could do was stare at her. The stalled traffic meant she could meet his stare.

“You think I know?” His hand rubbed his leg. How was he in love with a girl so willfully obtuse? She had literally dumped him because her father believed she was too good for him. She’d walked away from him without a backward glance and now all he could get from her was this sense of being wounded.

She didn’t look away. Just watched him the way you watch liars, with curiosity and disbelief.