Page 91 of Deeper

That was the easiest passcode anyone could use. “Really?”

Zander shrugged. “I’ve got too much going on to remember numbers.”

“So you just trust anyone with your phone not to have it password protected?” I asked as I unlocked the device and began sifting through.

Zander made a face as he moved around in his seat a little. “Don’t look through my pictures or messages then.”

I paused, unable to explain the sudden sadness I felt at his comment. “Why?”

Zander kept his attention straight ahead. “I’ve got some old pictures I need to delete for one thing, and for two, Paul’s got an abrasive way of complimenting you.”

My nerves eased up a little bit. For a moment, I feared there was someone else. Of course, therewassomeone else. Jolene Jones. I’d be lying if I didn’t sometimes catch myself wondering if he were over her. With his phone in my hand, feeling like hot coal, I felt tempted to spy—except, long ago, before I even got into serious relationships, I refused to be that woman who had to go through a man’s phone. I didn’t sign up to be a detective, and I wouldn’t turn into one now.

That one time with Rod had been painful enough.

Trust.

It was so hard to give, but I trusted Zander enough to not spy on him. “Yeah, well, you better delete anything you wouldn’t want me seeing in your photo album.”

“Will do.” Zander nodded. “It’s time to let a lot of things go.”

I tapped on his music app and scrolled through his music for the right vibe. “Whaaat?” I stretched out the word, surprised at what I found amid Zander’s list. “What doyouknow about Method Man?”

Zander clicked his tongue. “My dad loved all that shit. I’m telling you; I grew up on a lot of different sounds.”

I pressed play on a certain Method Man and Redman song and started acting up. Zander let the top down and wind was blowing through my ponytail as my arms shot up and I hollered for extra effect. No matter how much time passed, “Da Rockwilder” by Method Man and Redman would always be a classic—and too damn short.

Being annoying, I leaned over and started rapping Redman’s verse in Zander’s ear and pointing my finger. Like a true fan, Zander joined me in singing the last line of the song.

I settled back in my seat as the song was over too quickly and laughed. It felt good to let loose and be normal for a minute. It was contagious, I could tell. Zander glimpsed my way, smiling as carefree as I was.

Then he did a double take, his smile lessening a degree.

“What?” I wanted to know.

“Take your hair down,” he instructed.

“Why?”

“I don’t like how you look right now.”

Now I felt self-conscious. “What’s wrong with how I look?”

Zander focused on the road ahead. “It’s not you.”

I scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? Youbarelyknow me.”

Zander made a face. “You got your hair pulled back and you’re wearing white like you’re trying to prove you’re pure, like you’re a good girl or you’re worthy. Which is honestly bullshit. There’s nothing wrong with you. You shouldn’t have to do all this”—he gestured to me—“just to ask your dad for help. I know what you said about your mum, but it wasn’t your fault. None of it. If he can’t see that, then it’s his loss.”

I was being defensive and I couldn’t help it. It felt like he was attacking me by placing my issues under a magnifying glass.

My lips trembled. “Zand.”

Zander didn’t back down. “We can turn around right now. I promise it’ll be okay if you trust me.”

“What if I do move in with you and you don’t want me to leave, orIget comfortable?”

“Not seeing the problem.”

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