Page 71 of Broken Vows

“I can drive if you want,” I offer.

Levi snorts. “It’s heavy. Those toothpicks won’t be able to handle it.”

I give him a flat look. “I think I can manage your big manly car.”

“No one drives my car.”

“Okay,” I say.

We haven’t even left our block when he hisses through his teeth on a gear change. I pretend not to notice. He pretends I didn’t notice. The silence grows ridiculous until he takes a sharp corner, exhales sharply, and pulls over to the side of the road.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

“Do not crash my car,” he warns, already opening his door.

I try to hide my smile as we swap seats.

I adjust the mirrors, ease us back onto the road, and take it slow at first, careful with the gears. The Mustang feels heavier than I expected with very stubborn steering. No wonder it hurts him.

Levi sits rigid in the passenger seat, his good hand on his thigh like he’s ready to grab the wheel at any second.

“Relax,” I say. “I’ve got it.”

He grunts.

That’s apparently the closest I’m going to get to a vote of confidence.

After a few blocks, his shoulders drop a fraction. He even leans back slightly, though his eyes never fully leave the road. Theo keeps talking happily from the back seat, completely unaware that his brother has just handed over control of what might be his most treasured possession and is trying very hard not to have a stroke about it.

A car brakes suddenly in front of us.

I’m a little closer than I should be. I press the brake, and Levi’s arm shoots out instinctively toward the wheel. Pain flashes across his face the moment he does it.

“I’ve got it,” I say quickly.

And I do.

We stop just short of the car ahead.

The silence that follows is loud.

“I’ll keep a bigger distance,” I add.

Levi lowers his hand slowly. “Yeah.”

Ten minutes later, I pull into the parking lot of a low brick building that looks like it hasn’t been renovated since the nineties. A faded sign hangs above the door, barely readable.

I park the Mustang very carefully.

Theo darts inside before we’re even fully out of the car. I climb out and circle around to Levi, who’s already standing by the passenger side, studying the car like he’s searching for damage.

“Relax,” I say. “I didn’t hurt her.”

He doesn’t answer right away. He leans in, bracing one hand on the roof as he inspects the door.

“No,” he says finally. “You handled her well.”

Something in his voice makes my stomach dip. He turns to me then. His expression is calm, but the way he looks at me isn’t.