“I told you we should’ve waited until your ribs were fully healed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t go being a hero,” I declared, waggling a finger at him. “You only just got the cast off your arm.”
“A hero?” He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Those days are over.”
“Thank God.”
As I got off my bike—my beautiful, black and blue custom painted by Gasket beast Chaser helped me pick out—my cell phone beeped. I reached into the inside pocket of my leather jacket, pulled it out, and pressed the button on the side. No more burner phone, either. I was now a certified adult with a cell phone bill…with my legal name on it. Sloane Mason. Chaser and I weren’t married, but I was getting the paperwork out of the way, or so I liked to say when I teased him. Marriage didn’t matter, but there was no way I was going back to being a Marini, so Mason it was.
Staring at the message on the screen, I smiled.
“It’s a text from Gasket,” I said.
“Yeah? What’s it say?”
I grinned and ran my fingers over the screen. “The garage is up and running again. He says I can pick up my apprenticeship anytime I want.”
Chaser made a face and took my cell from me. “You? A mechanic?”
“Maybe I should go into private security.” I raised my eyebrows.
“Somehow, I think fixing up engines might be safer.”
“Spike’s outta hospital, too,” I said. “And the disorderly conduct charges were dropped against Hopper and Watts.”
“So everything’s wrapped up in a neat little package?”
I looked up at the apartment block. “Almost.”
Chaser flung his arm over my shoulder and hugged me against his side. “I love you.”
“Huh? I can’t hear you.”
“I said, I love you.”
I sighed contentedly.
“You heard me the first time, didn’t you?”
“Yep. I just like hearing you say it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You know, people usually say it back.”
“I love you, Chaser.”
He smiled and nodded toward the building. “You wanna go up?”
We went upstairs, hand in hand, my body jiggling with excitement. Standing in front of apartment fourteen, I danced from foot to foot and knocked on the door. She was going to flip. We hadn’t called, texted, or wrote. It would seriously ruin the surprise.
The door opened, revealing a tall, leggy blonde and utter chaos behind her. Brittany was laughing up a storm, and over my friend’s shoulder, I could see Sam on the floor, playing a lively game of Barbie dolls with the toddler.
“Sloane?” Yvette’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit. Your hair!”
I grinned and threw my arms around her neck, holding her tight.
“You’re here?” she asked. “You’re really here?”