Page 25 of Not Made to Last

“Do not engage with him. At all. I mean it.”Him, meaning Max. Obviously.

I settle into my seat. “Damn, you’re feisty… and I’m into it.” She just doesn’t know how much.

The first stop we make is at a little strip mall, and even though there are plenty of parking spots, Liv doesn’t take any of them. After going through the same aisle twice, I lose patience and point to an empty spot. “There’s a space right there… and there… and there.”

“Yeah, but I’m going there,” she says, pointing to Down Dawgs. I’ve never been there, but I hear their hot dogs are bomb. “And I need to park close enough to keep an eye on him.”

“I’m right here,” I tell her, confused. “I’ll stay in the car, and you can go in.”

“I’ll just take him in with me.”

I turn around and look at the kid, still focused on his book. “I’m not going to do anything,” I say, trailing my gaze back to her. I roll my eyes to emphasize: “I promise I won’t engage.”

She huffs out a breath, deflating her chest—her breasts—clearly visible by the tight T-shirt she’s wearing. “Fine.” Then she pulls into the spot, puts the truck in gear, and turns to me. She reaches out, and I instinctively rear back. After clucking her tongue, annoyed, she tugs the brim of my hat lower on my brow. “Try not to look so…”

I smirk. “Sexy?”

“Visible.”

I don’t watch her ass as she walks away. Or her legs. Damn those legs.

“Hey, Timothy!” Max calls out.

Who the fuck is—oh, right. I’m Timothy. I turn to him, noticing the headphones around his neck now. I keep my promise and don’t engage. Just a slight raise of my eyebrows to let him know I’m listening. “Did you know that according to Greek mythology, the word ‘clue’ comes from the world clew, spelled c l e w? Some guy went into a labyrinth to kill a Minotaur?—”

“Those half-man, half-bull things?” Shit, I wasn’t supposed to engage, but the kid’s got me intrigued.

Max nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, and anyway, for him to find his way back out of the labyrinth, he unraveled a ball of string as he walked around so he could find his way out again. Guess what a ball of string is called?” His voice is high-pitched, and his words are so rushed that they all join. He never takes a breath. Never pauses. It’s almost comical.

My lips form a smile, though I don’t know why. “A clew?”

Eyes wide, his grin is ridiculous.

“How did you know that?”

He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. Then he sucks in a whopper of breath before gushing, “I’m going through an etymology phase. I’m normally mad into science and tech. Mainly robotics. A little genetics. DNA—so interesting! Did you know DNA is made of two linked strands that wind around each other to resemble a twisted ladder, also known as a double helix?” His immediate intake of breath has me chuckling, and I reach into the neck hole of my T-shirt and pull out the pendant hanging off the gold chain.

Some people believe wearing a cross around their neck offers protection from evil.

I wear a single helix for the same reason… just a different type of evil.

Max offers a megawatt smile as his gaze shifts from the gold DNA symbol up to my eyes. “You’re into human biology?”

Shaking my head, I drop the chain back where it belongs… where the pendant sits close to my heart. “Not me,” I tell him. “But my sister is, and she’s the one who gave it to me.”

“I made a necklace for Ohana once,” he says, his grin widening with pride. “I made it out of macaroni, so it’s not as fancy as yours, but still.”

I peer into the window of Down Dawgs, noting that Olivia’s still waiting for the order, and turn back to him. “Yeah, but I bet she appreciated it just as much.”

“She did!” He nods, positive. “She wore it for a week before it got gross.” He pauses a beat, head tilted slightly, and I can tell he’s not finished, so I wait. “Does your sister have the same necklace as yours?”

“She does.”

“Makes sense,” he states. “Because y’all share fifty percent of your DNA, right? So, she has fifty, you have fifty, and together…bam! Double helix!”

I smile, happy to share a few seconds of silence with a kid I barely know.

“Me and Ollie don’t share any DNA…” he starts, and I’m all fucking ears because this is what I wanted. What I needed. To get in the mind of the girl who’s completely infiltrated mine. “…And sometimes I think we have more of a connection than full-blood siblings.”

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