Her eyes narrow. When will she start trusting me and letting me in a little?
With a sigh, she moves into the driver’s seat. I toss my sweatshirt onto her trunk, and I plant my hands there and push.
The car rolls forward—heavy and stubborn. We get it off to the side, out of the line of danger.
By the time I open her door, I’m soaked straight through. She takes my hand and gets out, and we run to my van. Once inside, I take a good look at her and her damp ponytail, thin sweater clinging to her heaving chest, cheeks flushed from the cold. It takes all my restraint not to draw her into my arms and warm her lips with mine.
“We look like drowned rats,” I chuckle. “Remember that time we were biking and got caught in the rain, soaked through for five miles before we got back to your dorm? Then we danced in the rain puddles on the lawn, anyway.”
“And we both caught colds that weekend, feeding each other soup.”
We both burst out in a laugh at the memory, locking eyes. But it’s short-lived once she looks away. She puts up a clear boundary. Her past life is fenced off, and I’m still standing on the wrong side of it.
“Thanks for the help, but if you’ll drive me to the nearest auto parts store?—”
“How about I drive you home so you can study. And I’ll take care of the car.”
“That’s too much to ask of you.” She scoffs. “You have a life.” She gestures vaguely at me, like I’m a whole celebrity package she can’t believe is real.
I grip the steering wheel and breathe through her obstinance. Because this isn’t about the damn battery, but about someone showing up for her when no one else can.
“I want to help,” I grit out.
She doesn’t answer.
“How about this? I’ll grab Aiden and take him along with me, so you can study in peace and quiet for a while?”
Her head snaps toward me, as if no one has ever done a single nice thing for her. “Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes.”
“He already thinks you’re a superhero?—”
“No hero. Just a man who is here for you if you need him, and if that’s a hero in Aiden’s book, then who are we to argue?” I say through a grin like pure trouble. “Don’t believe me? Watch me.”
Her eyes flash. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stubborn,” I shoot back. “Which is exactly why you’re going to say no a dozen times, and I’m going to do it anyway.”
She glares at me. Then, despite herself, she lets out this small, disbelieving laugh. It hits me in the chest like a punch. Because College-Stella is back for a minute. Like the girl who used to argue with me over dumb things and then climb into my lap five minutes later, as if the argument was foreplay.
She calls her mom and Aiden on the drive home, and minutes later, following her directions, I park in the alley behind the shop. It’s pouring down rain, so we make a run for the stairs leading to the apartment above it. I follow her pretty ass up the steps, too happy with the view to notice the creaking wood underfoot right away.
Aiden flings the door open,ecstaticto see me.
“Coach Eli!” he shouts, launching himself at me and wrapping his arms around my legs. “Are we really fixing Mom’s car?”
“We are,” I promise.
“Be careful. Keep your raincoat on, Aiden,” Stella gives all kinds of instructions before we finally leave.
He talks my ear off the entire time, but I find out a lot about their living situation as we buy the battery and fix the car. Like how he hasn’t seen his father since the spring. Or how he carefully cuts out the grocery coupons in the paper every Sunday for his mom. He admires my van, touching every button, and hopping across the seats in the back, and tells me their car breaks down often, and it’s the only thing he ever hears his mother swear about.
Funny, but she used to swear like crazy in college. Not one of those girls who had a potty mouth, but more like she knew the most effective punch to give things now and then with a very well-timed curse.
By the time we return to their place, the rain has stopped.
“Buddy, slow down,” I warn as Aiden runs up the stairs. I pay more attention this time to the fact that they are a death trap waiting to kill someone. I don’t like how rickety they are one bit. But I can’t be that protective guy yet, forcing his opinions and views about stairs or where they live without pushing Stella away.
