Page 43 of Holding On To Good

“Remember what happened the last time you touched me?” Reed asked, his voice softer than his father’s had been. His threat darker. “What I told you would happen if you did it again?”

Color filled Pete’s flabby neck, climbed to his cheeks. He shoved Reed’s arm away as if he was still the one in control. But Reed wasn’t the one who stepped back.

Pete did.

“Worthless piece of shit,” Pete muttered. “I oughta kick your lazy ass out of here.”

“You probably should,” Reed agreed. “But you won’t.”

Not out of love or paternal obligation, but because of the money Reed brought in.

Reed stayed. And while he liked to believe it was only to protect his mother, he couldn’t hide from the truth.

He had nowhere else to go.

Reed walked out, remembering to grab his windbreaker on the way, and let the door slam shut behind him. Titus followed him to the truck, jumped in when Reed opened the door.

At the end of his driveway, with Verity nowhere in sight, he braked then followed his instincts and turned right, heading away from town. A minute later he spotted the blinking of her hazard lights then saw her walking on the berm, his headlights revealing the stiffness of her shoulders, the sway of her ponytail.

Little Miss Rule Follower was walking on the wrong side of the road. She should be facing traffic, especially in the dark. For some reason, it pissed him off, her not knowing that. The possibility of her getting hurt.

Or maybe he was pissed at her for coming to his house. For seeing, up close and personal, the crappy trailer where he lived. For making him feel like an asshole for letting her walk this far alone. For expecting more of him than he wanted to give.

Hell, it could be he was pissed at her in general. Girls like Verity Jennings had that effect on a guy.

Reed rolled down the passenger side window and Titus stuck his head out to give a series of joyful barks.

Reed and Titus to the rescue! Dun da da dah!

“Yeah, yeah,” Reed muttered under his breath. “We’ll get matching capes and everything. Now get down.”

Titus lowered to the seat and laid his wet head on Reed’s lap.

Verity didn’t so much as glance their way. But she did pick up her pace.

Damsel in distress, his ass.

“Get in,” he told her.

Now she looked at him, and even in the dark, he could clearly decipher her eat shit and die look. “No.”

They were only a few yards away from her car now, close enough that he didn’t bother trying to talk her into getting into the truck, just sped up to pass her then did a U-turn before parking, his headlights illuminating her car.

Leaving Titus in the truck, Reed got out and met Verity by her front bumper.

“Here,” he said, holding out the windbreaker.

“What’s that?”

It was clear what it was, wasn’t it? Jesus.

Because it was clear, and because he felt like an idiot holding it out like some offering to a goddess, and because she still hadn’t taken the damn thing, he shook it. “Put it on.”

Her nose wrinkled, like she was grossed out by the thought of wearing his coat.

Like she was too good to even touch it.

Like she was way too good for the likes of him.

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