Maybe she didn’t want to see me at all.

Maybe she couldn’t get over what happened.

Maybe this was all for nothing . . .

I watched her window for another sign of life, but it didn’t come. Frustrated, I jammed my hand into my hair.

“Come on, Blue . . . just give me a chance,” I whispered.

“That’s what I’m doing, but we have to get out of here.”

Whitney’s voice came from beside me, scaring the living shit out of me.

“Jesus Christ. I didn’t—”

“Where’d you park? We gotta get out of here before someone sees.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed her hand, and together we jogged down the street to where I parked my truck a block away so no one would see it.

Just having her hand in mine felt so good, I didn’t want to let it go. I kept a tight grip on her until I opened the passenger door and helped her in. She was in tiny white pajama shorts, a tank top, no bra, and flip-flops.

God does exist.

As soon as I shut her door, I hustled around to my side and jumped in.

“Where can we go that’s safe?” she asked. “The cabin?”

When she looked at me, all I wanted to do was drag her across the center console and hold her in my arms.

Not yet.

“Yeah. That’ll work.” As I turned the key, I thought of what happened last time I was there, and how Commodore made me hide out until the black eyes faded, which was yesterday.

I pulled away from the curb and reached out to find Whitney’s hand. She grasped mine and kept a tight grip as we drove through town.

We both held our breath as we crossed the bridge where our parents had died. The guardrail had been replaced, and aside from the marks on the pavement, you’d never know it had happened.

“I’m so sorry about your dad.” She spoke so quietly that I barely heard her say it as we cleared the other side of the bridge. “Really sorry. I can’t believe . . .” Her voice broke.

“I know. It’s not your fault. None of it. I’m so fucking sorry about your parents. I’m sorry about every single fucking bit of it. That I didn’t listen to you about Ricky. That we fought. For what my mother said at the hospital. All of it.” I looked over at Whitney in the passenger seat, and the street lights illuminated her stricken face every few seconds. “Please don’t cry, Blue. Please.”

“It still doesn’t feel real, does it? I mean . . . if I try to forget the funeral, sometimes I can almost convince myself that I just haven’t seen my parents in a couple weeks, and they’ll walk through the door anytime. It doesn’t feel like they’re gone forever. Like I’ll never get to see them again.”

I couldn’t stop the tears tracking down her face, but I did feel every bit of the anguish in her tone and understood exactly what she meant. “I get it. It’s like my dad is on an overseas business trip and is ignoring the fact he has a family.”