“Can we review the camera footage?” Luke asked.
Allie perked up at the question. Maybe they could retrieve the car before—
“Sorry, hon. We don’t have cameras. Never had a car stolen before—that’s a first. Maybe a candy bar or a six-pack or...”
She kept talking but Allie tuned her out. If she didn’t get a moment alone, she was going to scream. She wandered off and found a picnic table on the side of the store where someone had smoked about two hundred packs of cigarettes and dropped the butts in the dirt.
Her heart thudded in her chest and her palms sweated. How was she going to explain to her parents that she’d allowed the car to be stolen? Because Luke was right—the whole key thing was her fault. She was the last one in the car. She should’ve checked before she left it.
She perched on the table and buried her face in her hands, her stomach roiling until she felt sick. Instead of demonstrating that she was a responsible adult, she’d proven just the opposite.
The grand surprise was going to be a disappointment ofepic proportions. Her news would ruin the party—ruin her grandparents’ fiftieth anniversary. How could she have been so stupid?
A few minutes of self-flagellation later, the jingle of Walter’s tags made her lift her head. Luke approached, his face unreadable. He dropped the leash and sank onto the table beside her. “Sorry I got so upset.”
All the fight was gone from her now. All that was left was the matchless misery of failure. “It’s okay. You were right. I should’ve checked for the keys.”
“Who would’ve dreamed someone would take off with it? I mean, you think of this stuff happening in the city, not at some backwoods gas station.”
Even now her parents were waiting for them to pull into the drive. Allie’s lungs struggled to keep pace with her heart. At the thought of facing her parents, her throat thickened and her eyes stung. “My parents are going to kill me.”
“Nah. You’ll maybe be sentenced to a lifetime of guilt trips. But that was probably going to happen anyway.”
A wet sound erupted from her throat. She seemed to be crying. Allie covered her face.
“Hey.” Luke put an arm around her and pulled her into his side. The welcome comfort only made the tears come faster.
“It’s going to be okay. As much as they might value that car, it’s just a car, Allie. They care more about you.”
“They think I’m hopeless! They already think I’m a screwup, and now I’m going to prove them right.”
“That’s not true. They love you. You’re not a screwup.”
“You don’t understand.” The words burbled out of her. “They count on Olivia for everything. Need someone to wateryour plants and get your mail? Ask Olivia. Need an executor for your will? Ask Olivia. Five-course meal? Olivia!”
“Look, honey. Olivia’s just a different kind of personality. She’s very structured and prepared—a stick-in-the-mud, some might say.”
A laugh slipped out just as she felt something wet on her foot. Walter reclaimed his tongue and gazed up at her with mournful eyes that seemed to reflect her pain. Okay, she had to hand it to the dopey dog—he had his good points. She ruffled his ears.
“You’re spontaneous and fun and accepting,” Luke continued. “There’s nothing wrong with who you are.”
“Tell my parents that. Know what they assigned me to bring to the party? Napkins.”
His low chuckle stirred something deep inside, as did the hand that caressed her bare arm. “And while your sister’s in the kitchen today, slaving away over the stove, guess who’s going to be on the lawn playing tag with the kids? Guess who’s going to be regaling her grandparents with funny stories from work? Guess who’s going to be beating her dad in a game of cornhole?”
“Okay, okay. But this is still going to be awful. The whole reason I offered to bring the car was to prove to them that I’m a capable adult. And now look what’s happened. I lost their car.” The last words escaped on a pathetic squeak.
“Hey . . .” He pulled her in tighter, and she laid her head on his shoulder, a tear trickling down her cheek. “You are a perfectly capable adult. You’ve been on your own since you were eighteen, haven’t you? You’ve held down a job—okay, lots of jobs, but it still counts. You have your own place, youpay your bills. You don’t have anything to prove, Allie. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
Allie tipped her head up and their eyes connected.
“Thanks, Luke.” When he brushed the wetness away with his thumb, her heart gave a squeeze.
“Allie, I—”
A siren chirped, dragging their attention to the gas station’s entrance where a sheriff’s car was turning in.
Allie fixed her gaze on it as she straightened, her stomach weighted with lead. “I guess we might as well get this over with.”
