Page 12 of The Save

I cracked the door open. “It’s fine. Just needs a minute.”

He leaned down slightly. “I heard it clicking.”

“Yeah. It does that sometimes.” That was a lie. This had never happened before. Well, not since grade twelve when my mom had to drive me to school for a week. Our next-door neighbour had somehow fixed it over the weekend, and it had been fine ever since.

Chase stepped back, scanning the car. “Is this the same car you had in high school?”

“Hilarious.” I pushed the door open further and stood. Chase frowned. “You can remember what car I drove, but not my last name?”

His nostrils flared. “It’s not that I didn’t remember your last name?—”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t sure if—maybe it had changed.”

I gave him a look. “Changed? How?”

He shook his head and stalked to the back of the car. “Maybe your mom got remarried. Or . . . maybe you did.”

I laughed out loud. “First of all, I wouldn’t take any random guy’s name if my mom remarried, and second,you thought I was married?”

Chase kicked one of the back tires and nodded to my hand. “You wear that ring.”

My mouth opened, then snapped closed as I glanced down and saw the thin gold band around my ring finger. On my left hand. “Oh, no. That’s—it was my dad’s.” I swallowed the guiltwelling in my chest. Okay, so he had a good reason for asking about my last name.

I’d worn that band for so long, I didn’t notice it anymore. Did other guys look at that and think I was married? Engaged? Was that why I never got hit on as much as Crystal and Shar? My entire university career suddenly flashed through my mind’s eye.

Chase strode past me and opened the driver’s side door, popping the hood. “How are you even driving this thing?”

“It works fine.”

“It’s an accident waiting to happen.”

I rolled my eyes and walked closer to where he bent over the engine. There was barely enough light from the street lamp to see anything. “I don’t take it far, just from my apartment to campus.”

“How far is that?” He tinkered with something, then moved to wipe his fingers on his khakis and thought better of it.

“Twenty minutes. Ish.”

He gave me a look, then shifted so he wasn’t creating a shadow over the car’s innards. “So your dad left and you still wear his ring?”

The question was a gut punch. All the air left my lungs, and I put out a hand to brace myself against the car.

Chase looked up. “What?”

“Is that what you thought?” I asked. He frowned.So classic.“My mom dated a black guy, got knocked up, and we never saw him again?”

“No, I?—”

“My dad died. Heart attack. When I was six years old. So yes, I still wear his ring.” I twisted the cool metal around my finger.

I didn’t know where he got it. My mom didn’t either. I found it when we were going through his things after the funeral, and I had to wait until I was twelve before it fit me. First, I’d worn it onmy thumb. Then my middle finger. Finally, my ring finger on my left hand when I hit sixteen. It didn’t fit as well on my right hand.

Silence.

Finally Chase said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well.” I dropped my eyes. “You didn’t ask.”

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