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“Nah, I don’t think messing with hair is for me,” I said. “And I can’t draw for shit, so don’t suggest tattooing with Knight.”

“What did you want to do before?”

He didn’t need to explain what he meant. Our lives were all divided into before and after our time in prison.

“I don’t know. My parents wanted me to go to college, but I wasn’t ready. I was going to take a gap year. Eventually, I figured I’d give in and do whatever my dad wanted.”

Hollywood turned into the rehab center parking lot and swung into a space. “And now?”

“I just can’t see it. I can’t see anything. It’s like, I just keep thinking about what I did, who I hurt, and I can’t move on. I don’t want to just forget and be happy. Not when the other driver is in a wheelchair because of me.”

I’d stolen my dad’s flashy, expensive sports car—a Corvette Stingray—and went for a joyride that ended in tragedy.

Everything in my life had been spinning out of my control. My best friend was falling in love with someone who wasn’t me. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it, either, because I was gay and nobody knew. The pressure just kept building and building until my head wanted to explode.

That night, I needed to blow off steam. Maybe taking the car had been a cry for help. Maybe it was self-sabotage. Nearly six years later, I still didn’t know what I’d been thinking.

My parents had reported the car stolen, wanting to teach me a lesson. No one had foreseen that I’d crash into Dakota’s car. In the law’s view, I’d injured someone while committing a felony, and a slap on the wrist turned into a prison sentence.

Dad pulled every string he could, worked his connections, and I was sure I had him to thank for the fact my sentence was five years and not fifteen or twenty.

Dakota Willis was paralyzed for life. She never got to walk away from the accident. Five years in prison was a small price to pay for that. Too small.

“We’ll figure out something, okay?” Hollywood said. “You can’t give up on your life.”

“Yeah.”

He killed the engine. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

Hollywood carried Ruby into the building. I followed, head too spun out to pay much attention to what was happening until we were in a family lounge.

Carrie sat in a recliner with a wedge pillow between her legs and a belt around her thighs to keep it in place. A walker stood next to her chair.

“Hey, there’s my girl!” she said with a tired smile.

“Mama!” Ruby wiggled to get loose from Hollywood’s arms.

“Can I let her go, or will she hurt you?” he asked.

Just then, a guy leaned through the doorway. “Don’t overdo it, Care. We’ve got ankle pumps coming up.”

“Thanks, Kit. I’ll be careful.”

Kit? That name was familiar.

I turned, just in time to get hit with the full force of a gorgeous smile. His deep auburn hair and coppery stubble took me right back to that night at Ignite.

“Hi, again,” he said, his tone warm enough to tempt me into inviting him back into my Hummer.

He wore an athletic shirt that molded to his pecs, and I couldn’t help but give him a second and third look.

“Hey,” I said. “I didn’t know you lived in Riverton.”

“Guilty,” Kit said with a chuckle. His sea-green eyes flicked over to Hollywood and Ruby. “Carrie can hold her daughter. Just settle her carefully and don’t let her jump on her.”

“Got it.” Hollywood gently lowered Ruby into Carrie’s lap. “Use soft hands with Mommy. She still hurts.”

Ruby seemed to understand, leaning in for a cuddle and gently patting her mom’s face. “Okay, Mommy?”