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She rolled her eyes. “Fine, it’s a deal. God, you’re my little brother. I’m supposed to be overprotective of you.”

I smirked. “You can make me dinner tonight and rub my feet.”

“In your dreams. Close the door before I give in to the temptation to throw something at your smug face.”

With a laugh, I closed the door and backed away, watching until Dakota had reversed out of the parking space and started down the road.

Joey had left before us, climbing into that hideous yellow Hummer he drove. The fact that no one had told me that he was out of prison—or that he was trundling around in that eyesore—was testament to the fact that I really needed to get out more.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d talked to one of my high school friends. Most of them had left for better jobs, and the ones who remained were married with kids, their lives on a different trajectory.

Piper was the closest I had to a real friend, and she was relatively new in town.

With a sigh, I crossed the road and headed back to the office. I had two more PT sessions this afternoon and a pile of paperwork to get through thanks to my wandering brain this morning.

Seeing Joey hadn’t been as awful as I’d expected. He hadn’t blurted out to Dakota that I’d confronted him or that we’d fucked around. But seeing him was a reminder that he really was the guy who’d hurt Dakota and I could never have him. Not the way I’d wanted.

It was selfish to care about that. But I’d been interested in so few men over the years. Joey had lit a spark of excitement in me, only to pour a gallon of cold water over the tiny flame.

CHAPTER 11

JOYRIDE

My phone rattled in the cupholder of my Hummer as I bounced across the pitted parking lot in front of Lucky Strike Bowling Alley.

“Jesus,” I grunted.

I wasn’t sure if I was commenting on my phone blowing up again—or the damn lot that really needed patching. Maybe both.

I parked and cut the engine, then picked up my phone to check my texts.

Hollywood:

Where are you? You’re going to be late!

Tex:

Don’t leave us hanging again.

I was never going to live down forgetting to call Hollywood the morning after I delivered the letter. Between the confrontation with Kit blowing my mind and rushing off to my first day at Paws & Claws, I hadn’t had a lot of mental space for overprotective friends.

Knight:

Matteo is asking about you. Haul ass, kid.

I checked the dash. Ten to four. I wasn’t even late yet!

With a huff, I threw open the door and hauled ass into the bowling alley. Lucky Strike was kind of a weird place to hold meetings for a bunch of ex-cons to bitch about their work problems, but the place had seen better days, so I guess the owner couldn’t be choosy.

On Sunday afternoons, we mostly had the bowling alley to ourselves. A much nicer Fun Zone that also included an escape room and some arcades drew most of the families in town.

Ahead of me, a ball crashed into pins, and a slender figure threw his arms up in victory.

Hollywood. Of course. He always had to bowl a few frames. Aside from a group of older ladies in the far lane, the place was empty.

Hollywood’s two-year-old daughter perched in the crook of Tex’s elbow as they watched.

“Strike, baby!” Hollywood called, shimmying his hips in a little dance.