"All right," he said quickly, looking surprised and pleased that I agreed. He went to talk to the truck driver first, and of course right away the eighteen-wheeler moved. He seemed to be used to getting his way here. He was the prince. The dark haired taciturn golden boy. He was helpful and somehow approachable with his men—when he chose to, but I also noticed from his conversations how he kept everyone at arm's length. He didn't seem to hang out with them after work hours. I remembered the man said he never went out for beers with them. What the hell did he do when he wasn't at school and working? He slid in the driver's side. I refused to acknowledge the twinge in my chest when he adjusted the seat to accommodate his long legs. It was all so familiar. The reaction I had watching him do this that first week was so different from my reaction this time. Now I was... sad. He cranked the window open a little, then started the car and reversed. A few seconds later, we were on the road. He drove one-handed. His chiselled jawline. His big hand on the steering wheel. The scrapes on his knuckles. His long fingers. A lock of his dark hair against his skin. The movement of his leg as he stepped on the gas. I looked away, gritting my teeth. I turned the radio on, noted the time, and blasted the music up. It didn't dispel the tension in the car completely, but it made it easier. Just like when he drove me around The Yard, I faced the window so I didn't have to look at him. I turned off the radio, noted the time again. I lasted eight minutes. "You lied to me," I blurted out. I saw his big body go on full alert. "What's the lie?" he asked quietly. "Your vehicle, you jerk. You told me you don't have a vehicle." His body visibly relaxed. A small smile was even flirting on his pretty mouth. "I never said that." "Yes, you did." "You asked me if I owned the BMW. I said it wasn't mine." Was that what he really said? "How could you even remember that conversation?" I couldn't even remember what I ate yesterday. "I remember," he said softly. "Because I remember every conversation we've had." Oh no. No, no. My traitorous heart skipped a beat. I didn't want this. I wanted to be cured of his curse. His black magic on my heart. I needed to be exorcised. I needed a priest. "Why?" Did I really ask that? Why did I ask that? Because you want to hear how important you are to him. What you mean to him. If you do mean anything to him. "You know why," he said gently. Then he turned his head to look at me. His eyes pulling me again. Back to where I was before. "You know." Suddenly I was feeling angry. So mad my chest was heaving from breathing so hard, so fast. "Pull over to the side of the road. Now!" As soon as he did, I shot out of the car. I couldn't be around him. I just couldn't. I was losing my shit and there was no way I was going to allow myself to blow up on him the way I did the night before he left. I started walking. I heard the car door slam closed. "Where the hell are you going?" he yelled behind me. I curled my hands into fists. It was getting late and the sun was about to set. We were still outside of the city. The vehicles here drove over the speed limit. I could hear them zipping past me, their speeds making the ground shake as they passed by us. I didn't care. If I had to walk it home, I would. I couldn't be around him anymore. But I wasn't that stupid. I definitely didn't want to die. I stayed far away from the road but walked as fast as I could. "It's none of your f ucking business!" I yelled back. Suddenly he was beside me, close to the road. I knew he was protecting me from the vehicles, but it only made me angrier. I wanted to get over him. I wanted to be rid of him. And every time he did something kind or sweet, my treacherous heart gave in little by little. "You're going to walk it home? Is that your plan?" he demanded. "What do you care? You don't get to know anything about me when you can't even... when you can't even..." "When I can't even what?" I was so close, so close to punching his pretty face. I walked faster. He matched my pace. "I lost my phone," he said suddenly. I stopped in my tracks and shot him a glare. "I didn't know you can get this low and lie to me like that." "I'm not." If it was true... that was why I saw a new phone in his truck. "You mean you lost your phone right after I texted you that night?" "No," he answered after a moment. "Not right after." "Then you just didn't want to reply." He raked his hands in his hair. "It's not about wanting." "What then?" "It was better that way," he replied. "At the time." I was done. Totally done. "Fuck you, Cameron. Leave me the hell alone." I started walking again, trying to calm myself down. I hated how fast he could make me angry. I was aware of my temper, but nobody could light it up as fast as he could. He walked beside me but stayed a few feet away. Thoughts raced in my head. One after the other.