Page 28 of Sin

“It’s a great idea,” I counterfirmly.

“But Betty Jo is my truck. Shouldn’t she be the vehicle I learn to drive in?”

“Betty Jo is getting new brakes and a safety inspection before you get anywhere near her. Until then,you can learn the basics with Jeff here,” I say, patting the Mazda’s dash.

“Jeff?”

“Yeah, Jeff,” I shrug. “You seem to like namingvehicles, so I thought you might be more comfortable learning to drive it if I introduced my Mazda to you as Jeff.”

If anything, that seems to alarm Cassidy more. “What if I accidentally drive poor Jeff off the road?”

“Not going to happen,” I wave off his concerns. “You’ve been the passenger plenty of times before. It’s really not that different.”

He gives me a side eye, chock-full of attitude. “Except for the wholedriving the vehiclepart.”

I love it when snark wins out over Cassidy’s earnestness. It makes me want to tease more of those rare moments out of him.

“No worries. You have me as an instructor. I’ve been driving since I was thirteen.”

“Thirteen?” His eyes go wide. “That’s not legal.”

“Most of the fun things aren’t.” I laugh. “I stole my father’s Corvette, picked up Mercer, and drove to Chicago for a Jonah Reeves concert.”

“Wow,” he says, taking my story in.

“So, if I could drive six-and-a-half hours on the highway before I learned how to shave, you can drive Jeff here to Thurston with my help.”

He sighs. “Okay. I’ll do my best.” He sits up straight and turns to me, ready for instruction like the good student that he is.

For just a moment, I let myself savor the thrill of being the one to teach him how to drive. To be a part of another one of his firsts.

I’m becoming addicted to it.

“I know you will,” I assure him. “Now, are you ready for the most important rule of driving?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, sending a dark heat through me as I instantly imagine all the scenarios in which I’d like for him to call meSir. Driving definitely isn’t one of them.

I push those images from my mind, knowing it is only a temporary banishment. They’ll return later tonight. “Pick good music,” I tell him, pushing a button so System of a Down floods the car.

He looks at me doubtfully. “Shouldn’t it be to put on my seatbelt?”

“That’s the second rule.” I reach over and pull his safety belt across him and fasten it, and then do the same to my own. “Gotta protect yourself from talk radio or bad music before anything else.”

I’m not sure he agrees, but he patiently awaits my next instruction.

“Okay, now make sure your parking brake isn’t engaged.”

He looks around, and I point to it, and he double-checks its position.

“Good,” I tell him, and can’t miss the way the simple praise fills him up. “Now push the clutch—left pedal—down with your foot and push the ignition button.”

At the sound of the engine, Cassidy jumps slightly. “Relax,” I tell him. “Jeff is just purring for you. Now, release the clutch slowly while gently pushing your foot down on the right pedal for acceleration.”

Biting down on his lip in deep concentration, he does exactly as I asked, like the star pupil that he is, and we begin to move forward slowly.

“That’s it. Now I’m gonna teach you how to shift gears.” He places his hand on the gear. His eyes immediately meet mine, there’s a vulnerability there. He’s trying to learn something he can’t really hit the books and study for. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I got you,” I murmur, placing my hand tightly over his. “We’ll shift together for a bit so you can concentrate on getting used to using the clutch and the accelerator while gaining the necessary muscle memory for changing gears.”

---