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My stomach growled again loudly, and she laughed. “I guess it’s a good thing I called in an order to The Sandy Witch while you were in there.”

The Sandy Witch was a sandwich shop run by a lady named Sandy. Pretty clever name, but even better, she served a lot of healthier options that were better for Dakota. Paralysis slowed her digestion, and she couldn’t handle fast food from a burger joint. Sometimes she indulged anyway, but she usually regretted it.

Dakota made her final call while we waited on the food delivery. It was short and to the point.

“Thank you so much,” Dakota said as she wrapped up. She slammed the receiver of my office phone down and thrust her arms in the air. “Yesss! Take that Grabel, you fucker! I win!”

I snorted. “Was he aware there was a competition?”

“Never try to stop me, Kit,” she said, eyes gleaming. “I am unstoppable.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” I assured her. “I already know.”

A construction problem was nothing to my sister. Not compared to the daily challenges of life in a wheelchair. Not to mention the difficulties with her bowels and bladder, and the dozens of other internal functions that were thrown out of whack by her spinal cord injury.

If the asshole who’d hit her car didn’t stop her, then no one ever would.

CHAPTER 3

JOYRIDE

I woke from a nap, groggy and disoriented. It was dark in the pool house, so it must be evening. Even with the shades pulled, I couldn’t totally block out the sun during the day.

I picked up my phone to check the time. Seven p.m. already. I’d lost most of the day to fitful napping, which probably meant I’d be awake all night, my mind cycling through things I’d rather forget.

The scream of metal. The smell of the hospital room. The cold kiss of handcuffs around my wrists. Mom, tear-stained and pale, whispering, “Oh, Joey, what have you done?”

I scrolled through my contacts, seeking a distraction, and stopped abruptly at Kit’s number. I should delete it. Nothing could happen now. Not ever again.

My thumb hovered over the digital keypad.

He’d put a little smiley face after his name. Who did that? Why was that so fucking sweet?

I exhaled a hard breath and closed out of the screen. I couldn’t bring myself to totally erase him from my phone. I couldn’t erase the memory of him under me in the back seat of my Hummer, anyway. How warm he’d been. How bashful until his dick came out, and then how urgently he’d taken what he wanted.

I closed my eyes tight, trying to force the image away, even as my body heated. I didn’t deserve that memory. I should never have touched him—or anything else connected to Dakota Willis.

I’d already blown up her life. The best thing I could do was stay far away.

My heart clenched painfully tight, aching. Not for Kit. Not really. Sure, he was cute and sexy and seemed genuinely sweet on me. Maybe something could have happened there. I’d never had a real boyfriend. It might have been nice, being the center of someone’s world, the way Aiden was for Knight, or having such a close bond, like the one between Hollywood and Tex.

But I didn’t have a right to happiness. I’d known that even before I saw Dakota at the rehab center last week. I kept going through the motions—going to work, meeting up for Redemption Road meetings, arguing with my dad—as if any of it mattered.

How could it after what I’d done?

My phone buzzed with a text. Not surprising. The guys were meeting up to grill out tonight. I’d skipped the Redemption Road work meeting yesterday. The director, Matteo, had called to check in. I’d made up an excuse about feeling ill and he’d accepted it a little too easily.

Hollywood had probably told him what happened.

I glanced at the incoming text.

Hollywood:

We won’t have anything to eat if you don’t show.

Joyride:

You’re all grown men. Go find something.