Page 11 of Push

Tap, tap.

“Sir?”

I stabbed at the button again. The window lowered. “Evening, uh… Officer.” I cleared my throat. A forced smile followed in my perpetual quest for people to like me. It didn’t seem to sway him, though. “How can I help you?”

The cop introduced himself, and it was allblah, blah, blah. I didn’t hear a word.

My mind was too busy racing to find an excuse for why I was late home. I was a shit liar. Gwen would see straight through me, but I couldn’t hurt her with the truth. She didn’t deserve that. And…maybe… I wouldn’t even need to lie. Maybe she’d zonked out after reading a chapter or two of her book hours ago and wouldn’t hear me if I snuck in through the garage—

“This vehicle was reported stolen.”

Every thought racing through my mind screeched to a stop. “Sorry—I—what?”

“This vehicle was reported stolen from a residence in Cammeray an hour ago.”

Myresidence. “But this ismycar.”

“Sir, I need to see your license.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” I wriggled on the seat, dug my wallet out of my back pocket, and flipped it open. My eyes caught on the photo tucked inside of Noah beaming his cheeky dimpled smile. Invisible fingers squeezed around my heart. This wasn’t the type of man I wanted to be—passed out drunk and being questioned by the police. That was some other guy. Not me. I tugged my license free. “Here you go.”

The cop snagged the card from my fingers, looked at it, flipped it over, and looked back at me. “Big night, Dr. Sullivan?”

I threw him one of those questioning eyebrows Gwen liked to do. The cop tapped a gloved finger to his jaw.

What the…?

I straightened up, arching my neck to get a look in the rearview mirror. Red lipstick branded my collar…my jaw…my lips.Shit. I scrambled to scrub the evidence of the biggest mistake of my life from my face with frantic hands and only made a bigger mess.

“Uh, no.” My jaw burned, red and raw, but every reminder of Kayleigh needed to be erased. “Just, um, you know, a late night at work.” That was a weak excuse I’d heard my father mutter a hundred times. I wasn’t fooling anyone with that crap. “I was about to head home.”

The cop grunted a laugh. “We’ll see about that.”

He took his sweet time tapping on his tiny computer of power and calling dispatch to have a laugh. A breathalyzer was shoved in front of my face. The cop seemed disappointed when I blewjustunder the limit.

I sagged against the seat, muscles weak with relief. One less problem.

The cop held out my license, but before I could snatch it back, he suggested, “Maybe let your missus know the next time you’re working late, eh?”

There’d never be anext time.

The cop’s motorcycle disappeared down the empty street.

12:38 a.m.

I slumped against the glass entrance to Ian’s building and smacked the intercom with my hand. A high-pitched ring pierced my skull but quickly stopped.

“Ye…ah?” Ian’s voice was groggy.

“Mate, let me up.”

“Toby?”

“I think so.” Was I Toby? I wasn’t even sure I was alive at this point. My vision was cloudy, and the world was slippery and blurred around the edges. “I’ve introduced my guts to the garden by the front doors. I don’t think your neighbors want me to repeat my efforts.”

“Shit.” The door buzzer sounded. “Get up here.”

I stumbled inside the building and through the lobby. How did I make it to Ian’s floor? No idea. I didn’t remember pressing any buttons, but when the elevator door opened, Ian stood there, head cocked, and his hands on the hips of his black sweats.

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