Page 142 of Composed

---

Cole's eyes widen.

I purse my lips.

He opens his mouth.

My shoulders tremble.

“Rixie.” He twists slowly.

I suck my lower lip into my mouth.

“No.”

My stomach clenches and I slap a hand against my mouth.

“Fuck no!” He throws his hand out towards my pastel pink Beetle convertible. A choked laugh bubbles up my throat and I clamp a hand over my lips. “I’m not getting into that thing.”

A giggle spills past my lips.

He stares at me with a horrified expression. “I won’t fit.”

I wheeze.

“This isn’t funny.” He steps closer to me. “There’s no fucking way.”

“Come on, Rock Star.” I slink around him, keys swinging around my finger, as laughter explodes from me. “Live a little. Berecklesswith me.”

“I hate you.”

I tug the door open and wink at him before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Chapter forty-five

Hendrix • Then

Your Call – Secondhand Serenade

Nineteen Years Old

Gravelcrunchesbeneaththetyres when I swerve left.

Cole white-knuckles the oh-shit handle. “Brake, Rixie.”

I squeak, my fingers locking.

He grabs the steering while when I slam my eyes shut.

If this is how I die, I don’t need to look my would-be killer—the stupid fucking bollard—in the face.

Cole hisses. “Don’t close your pissing eyes!”

I force them open and slam my foot onto the brake.

The car screeches to a stop.

My body jolts forward, before the belt snaps me back into the seat. Fred Durst continues to rap through the speakers as silence stretches between us.

I suck in a breath, hard and fast, the pine scented air freshener sharp as it tickles my nose.

---