Page 99 of Lucky Shot

“Please,” Joey says to me.

I look at Whitney and grin. Not so fast, babe. You’re not avoiding me again. Nor the discussion about whatever shit photo she’s talking about. And shit photos are a fact of life for me. They’re never right and rarely accurate in time and place.

But I haven’t been to a club with a woman since . . . since the punch that led me here to her.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

And thanks to Joey, I might just get the chance to prove my relative innocence. “Of course, I’ll bring you home.”

“Whitney too?” he asks, his smile cautious.

“Whitney too,” I answer for her.

He lets out a whoop that masks Whitney’s groan.

Bloody perfect.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Hardy

“You didn’t have to do this. Drive him home, I mean,” Whitney murmurs from the passenger seat beside me as Joey sits in the back, a grin so big it’s like his whole face is a smile. “I’m more than capable of driving my car.”

Why haven’t I thought about her being out here by herself before? It might be where she goes to work every day—and I’m in no way discounting her ability to take care of herself—but it’s a rough area that feels even shadier at night.

Why didn’t I pay more attention to it before? To the night she jogged into the school because she thought someone was following her?

Because you’re not used to caring about someone before now. Because you never thought to think it.

But I do. And I am now.

The woman works here daily. Most nights on her own after Martin leaves. She’s fucking fearless.

“I never said you weren’t capable. I just figured you might like some company.”

She slides me a side-eye. She had believed that this trip would provide an escape from the conversation she didn’t want to have.

“You feeling okay?” I ask. She looks pale.

“Yes. Fine. I think I’m catching something is all.”

“Turn right here,” Joey says from the back seat where he’s practically bouncing with excitement.

But as we turn the corner, red and blue lights light up the darkening sky. I chance a glance over at Whitney whose face is a muted mask of concern.

“Coach?” Joey asks from the back seat, trepidation laced through his tone. His seat belt is already off before I even stop the car.

She glances over her shoulder at him. “I’m sure everything is fine. Stay here while I see what’s going on, okay?” She meets my eyes briefly before sliding out of the car.

It takes everything I have not to go after her. To be the line of defense for her in case something’s wrong. But I remain where I am with my hands gripping the wheel and random comments coming off my tongue to try and calm the worry that emanates from Joey.

“It’s probably nothing—”

But before I can finish the sentence, Joey opens the car door and runs into the arms of the woman Whitney was just speaking with. I watch their reunion. The tight bear hug. The hand smoothing down her son’s head. The wipe away of a tear before he can see it. The brave smile on her face when he leans back and looks at her.

Whitney puts her hands on both of their backs and ushers them out of sight. I stare after where they just were for a few seconds before I remember how we got here.

“How about because we had sex, and then when I didn’t go to your place, when I explained why and you so casually played it off, you went out with someone else instead?”