Page 73 of The Glittering Edge

There’s that thought again. That Alonso didn’t have to sign the blood oath, but he did it anyway. He isn’t who Penny thought he was.

Alonso runs a hand through his hair. “This is happening to your mom because of me. I fucking hate that.”

“No,” Penny says, suddenly exasperated. “This isn’t your fault. We’re not our families. You’re not your grandfather.”

Alonso’s eyes soften, and the light from the gas station catches on his mouth. Suddenly Penny is staring at it, and she has to make a conscious effort to drag her eyes back up to his.

“Nobody’s ever said that before,” Alonso whispers.

Penny’s throat is too dry to speak. It’s the feeling she’s used to having around Alonso—wanting to look away, to run away, to fade until he doesn’t notice her. Except now it’s different. She isn’t afraid he’ll say horrible things or try to make her afraid.

She’s afraid he’ll stop paying attention. That he’ll fade from her life like a memory.

As if he can read her mind, Alonso leans in.

The moment stretches, and Penny can hear her heartbeat in her ears. Is this really happening? Or is Penny having some gasoline-fume-induced fever dream in which Alonso De Luca is reaching over to rest his hand on the back of Penny’s seat, and getting so close she can feel his breath on her mouth?

This doesn’t make sense, except maybe it does. She thought Alonso hated her, that his attention only proved it. But now Penny is standing in a new spot, looking at him from a different angle, and what if…

What if she closed her eyes and leaned in, too?

The door to the back seat opens, and the moment shatters like glass.

By the time Corey gets in the car, Penny and Alonso are in their own respective spheres of personal space.

“All set?” she says, mentally slapping herself when her voice cracks.

“Yeah,” Corey says. Penny can almost feel him looking between them. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Penny says, but Alonso says nothing. He’s gazing out the window, arms crossed over his chest.

There’s the crinkle of a candy wrapper in the back seat. “Penny, do you want a Reese’s?”

“Sure.”

“I really hope you’re going to offer me one, too,” Alonso says.

Corey doesn’t answer, but a moment later, a miniature Reese’s flies onto Penny’s lap, and another lands on Alonso’s.

“Nice,” Alonso says. “You owed me one, anyway.”

“You’re never going to let me forget that blood oath, are you?”

Alonso doesn’t answer. He just pops the Reese’s into his mouth and starts scrolling through his phone.

Penny

RON IS WAITING UP WHEN PENNY GETS HOME AT MIDNIGHT.

“Are you rebelling?” he says. He’s sitting on the couch in his bathrobe, a sheet mask barely disguising his disapproval.

Penny rubs her temples. She’s never been great at lying in the first place, and now her eyes are dry, and her body is tired. “Naomi and I stopped at IHOP, and we lost track of time. I should’ve texted you.”

Ron sighs. “I’m not mad. But, hon, you look exhausted, and I think you need a little time off.”

Penny’s anxiety rears its head—the thought of rest is much worse than the thought of working. She doesn’t need more time to think. “I’m fine, Ron! Really.”

“Nope! As your gay dad, I officially declare that tomorrow is your day of rest. You’re not allowed within a ten-foot radius of the café.”

---