Fable sighs. “I just hate thinking of you out driving for hours in this rain.”

“We’ll be fine, don’t worry. Seriously.” I ruffle her hair, something she used to do to me when I was younger but since I tower over her by about a foot, I’ve got the upper hand now. “I’ll text you when we get home, okay?”

“You’d better. I’ll be lying awake until I hear from you,” she says.

“Please. You’ll be passed out with Autumn cradled in your arms,” I tell her. She’s admitted to me already that when she’s feeding the baby in the middle of the night, they end up asleep in bed together. She’s up all hours of the night taking care of Autumn, though I guess they’ve found more of a schedule. I don’t know. I start glazing over when Fable starts talking endless baby shit.

But I know I don’t want to be the other one who’s keeping her awake.

“You’re probably not too far from the truth.” Fable smiles, her gaze going to Drew when he calls her name. “Our cars are here. We should go.”

Chelsea exits the restaurant at that very moment, heading toward me. Her gaze is dim, her skin pale, but she offers a real smile to Fable when she pulls Chelsea into her arms and gives her a big hug.

“So great meeting you. Keep Owen in line, okay?” Fable says.

Chelsea laughs as Fable releases her. “Great meeting you, too. And I’ll try.”

Drew envelops Chelsea in his arms and when he lets go, she looks a little starstruck. I guess I can’t blame her, but I’m also a little jealous. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that particular look in her eyes after I touched her.

But I’ve seen other looks. Eyes glazed with lust. Happiness. Affection.

I want to see those looks in her eyes again. I want to kiss her, hold her close. Taste her, touch her, slip my hand inside her jeans, touch her between her legs and show her I know exactly how to make her feel good.

Shit. I’m breaking out in a fucking sweat just thinking about it. Maybe Fable’s right. Maybe we should stay the night, but instead of staying at their house, we should find a hotel. Then I could drag Chelsea into bed and get her naked. Finally do what I’ve been dying to pretty much since I met her.

I know I’ve been all about taking things slow with her, but I’ve never been patient. I’ve never had to be, not when it comes to girls. I’ve always gotten what I wanted. Who I wanted. When I wanted.

So why do I want this girl when she runs so completely hot and cold? Is it more of a case of wanting what I can’t have? Or do I really like her?

Oh, you like her, asshole. More than you ever want to admit.

“Are you mad at me? Did I do something to offend you?” I finally ask once we’re on the freeway headed home. Traffic is heavy, it’s still raining, and I’ve got both hands on the steering wheel, my gaze locked on the windshield, the glow of red lights indicating that everyone’s hitting their brakes constantly. I don’t want to be distracted, but …

Chelsea’s low, distant mood is totally making me lose focus.

“No, I’m not mad at you.” I flick a quick glance in her direction and she offers me a pitiful little smile. “Not really.”

Not really.

What the hell does she mean by that?

“What did I do?” I ask, my voice grim. “I’m not in the mood to play guessing games, Chels. So just give it to me straight.” I hate games. Mom is a total game player. Most females are … at least, the ones I know. Fable is an exception.

I’d hoped Chelsea was the same. But maybe she’s not …

“It’s stupid.” She waves a hand, smiling at me, but her smile is brittle. Doesn’t light up her eyes and I can tell it’s fake. “I have a headache and it’s been such a long day. A long weekend, really.”

“You had fun, though, right? And you liked my sister? And Drew?” I sound like an insecure little kid wanting to make sure she’s happy, desperate to ensure that she’s pleased. God, does she even realize how easy it would be for her to completely wreck me? I never hand that sort of power over to anyone. Okay, I do so with Fable, but she’s my sister and she would never hurt me. We’ve proven our trust in each other again and again. And Mom’s wrecked me over and over, but I can’t help but hand her that power.

As I’ve come to realize time and again, it’s natural. She’s my mom. I want to please her and she shits on me every chance she gets. Yet I keep taking it.

“Yeah. I had fun.” There is absolutely no emotion in her voice and it scares me. “Except when I found out you told your sister we’re just friends.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Wait a minute. What did you say?”

“You told Fable—I don’t know when—that we were just friends. Is that how you really think of us? Am I just a friend, Owen? Do you always stick your tongue in your friends’ mouths? Or am I a special friend?”

Shit. She’s pissed. She’s practically yelling at me. “I never told Fable that …” My voice trails off.

I so did. When we were on the phone and Fable was giving me shit. I didn’t want to hear it from her anymore so I said it to shut her up. I never thought Fable would ever say anything and I hadn’t meant a word of it. Well, I guess.

Hell. I don’t know. Chelsea confuses me so completely, I don’t know how or what to think anymore.

Not that Chelsea would ever believe that.

“I thought I—meant something to you, but I guess not. Just wishful thinking on my part,” she says, her voice soft and full of sadness. “I’m being ridiculous.”

I chance a glance at her and see how she’s staring out the window, her expression devastated.

My heart aches. Fuck it, I just did that to her. And I don’t know how to explain myself. Not sure I really want to. I mean, what the hell are we doing, Chelsea and I? I like her, but I can’t take this too seriously.

Fuck. I’m a liar. I hardly know Chelsea but I want to know more. So much more, my heart aches in anticipation of it. Yet she gives me such mixed signals, I never know whether she’s coming or going. Whether she really likes me or not, and that freaking kills me. I was just feeling confident, too. So damn confident, I was letting my guard down. Kissing her in front of Fable, for Christ’s sake, and I don’t do that sort of thing ever.

Never, ever, never.

“Chelsea …” I start, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she tells me, cutting me off before I can say anything to explain myself. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

She’s completely pulled away from me again and I hate it. I refuse to let this go. I need to make this better between us, before she pulls away from me even further.

More than anything, I need to apologize for being such a thoughtless asshole.

I drive for almost an hour, still not fully out of the city, what with traffic slowing constantly until the freeway is feeling almost like a parking lot. I look at Chelsea and see she’s curled up in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the side of the door, her eyes closed tight, her forehead wrinkled with worry, pain—God, I don’t know what.

Determination fills me. That’s it. We should definitely stay the night. She’ll probably be mad but I’m doing it. So what if we miss class in the morning? It won’t kill us. It might kill her, but shit. I’m tired and she’s not feeling well. I’m irritated and she’s trying to sleep.

Not bothering with waking her up, I take the next exit, where I see a few hotel signs flashing in the night sky, and pull into a hotel parking lot. She stirs in her seat, lifting her head when I park the car beneath the overhang and in front of the hotel entrance. Frowning, she turns to meet my gaze.

“Where are we? What’s going on?”

“We’re staying overnight here.” I incline my head toward the front doors.

Her mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

“Definitely, I’m serious. The weather is for shit, Chels. The freeway is barely moving and I’m exhausted.” Reaching out, I touch her cheek and she flinches—literally flinches—away from my fingers. I let my hand drop, frustration raining through me. My heart hurts. Has she ever rejected my touch before? I can only blame it on her headache.

Oh, and me telling Fable she’s just a friend.

Man, I really fucked this up.

“You don’t feel well,” I tell her, trying to forget what I said, how much it hurt her. “You need a good night’s rest.”

“But I’ll miss my morning classes,” she protests. “I have an important paper to turn in, too.”

“Is it already finished?” If this were me, I’d be working on that stupid paper at this very minute. I’m the king of procrastination, especially with homework.

“Well, yeah. Of course it is.” She shrugs, chewing on her lower lip.

Why am I not surprised? “Then turn it in later tomorrow afternoon. I’m sure your professor will understand when you explain what happened. It’s not like you ever turn anything in late. They’ll let you off the hook.” I pause, studying her. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning. We’re out of the city somewhat, so it probably should be about a three-hour drive. And everyone will be traveling in the opposite direction, so we should be good. The minute you get home you can go to school and turn in everything you need to.”

“I don’t know …” Her voice drifts and she glances down at her lap. “I have nothing to change into for tomorrow. Nothing to sleep in. No toothbrush.”

I’m still stuck on her nothing-to-sleep-in statement. Sounds good to me. We could crawl into bed naked. I’m totally game. Not that there’s any chance of that happening. “We can pick up a toothbrush and whatever else we need in the hotel, I bet. And we can take a quick shower, go to bed, throw our clothes back on, and head home in the morning. What do you think?”

Does she even hear the order I put that all in? And do I really think I have a chance with her tonight, with the way she’s been acting? How pissed she is with me?

An idiot can hope, I guess.

“Can we get separate beds?” Her cheeks color and she keeps her gaze averted. “I just—I’ll feel more comfortable that way.”

My hopes are smashed into a million pieces with five simple words. Damn. I want to scream at her, what did I do wrong? But I keep my lips clamped shut, trying to control the overflow of emotions that want to escape. I know what I did wrong. It’s just hard to face. God knows, I never want to face anything. “Whatever you want, Chels, I’ll make it happen if I can. Depends on what the hotel has available.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Thanks for being so understanding, Owen.”

Even her voice sounds different. I hate this. I should apologize. But how?

Hey, sorry I told my sister we were just friends but I wanted to get her off my back after she gave me an endless amount of shit. I didn’t mean it.

But I might have meant it. I mean … if she’s confused and giving me mixed signals, maybe I’m just as bad. I want her. I don’t. I want more than just sex. I’d rather run.

I’m contradicting myself in my own brain. I’m a mess.

“I’m gonna go inside and get a room,” I tell her. “You want to come with me?”

She slowly shakes her head, keeping her gaze locked on the passenger-side window, staring at the front of the hotel. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sit out here and wait for you.”

I exit the car and head toward the hotel’s entrance, swearing I can feel her gaze on me as I walk. If she’s watching me, I know we still have a chance. This is just a blip in the road or whatever.

But if she’s not looking at me, then forget it. I can almost guarantee it won’t work out.

Fuck. I’m afraid to turn around and look, but finally, after taking a deep breath and counting to five, I slowly glance over my shoulder, my gaze falling on the passenger-side door’s window.

Chelsea’s watching me, her fingers resting on the glass, her expression full of sadness. I smile at her, give her a little wave, and she waves back.

Glad to know there’s some hope between us after all.

Chelsea

The hotel room is nice and clean, but there’s one king-sized bed. It was the only type of room available, Owen had said apologetically when he’d come back to the car so he could park it. I’d sat there, quietly stewing, wondering if he was lying to me. I was going to confront him about it once we got to the hotel room but changed my mind when we stood in front of the door, where I watched Owen slide the card into the lock and open it.

I don’t need to start any fights. He already knows how I feel and I should be mad that he hasn’t apologized, but what do I expect? Owen begging for my forgiveness?