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“I am awesome at this!” Rowan yells, as he immediately negates his statement by blowing through a red light at top speed. “Oops.”

Luca just grips the “holy-shit-handle” tighter and prays harder as Rowan breaks intoLong Road Home’s“Live Like You’re Dying Tomorrow.” It’s distracting, as he sings all of Jay’s higher parts, too, and Luca is compelled to join him to correct the terribly offensive errors. By the time Rowan slams on the brakes in the dusty parking lot of the gas station where they’re supposed to rendezvous, they’re shouting the lyrics.

His mates are sitting on a bench outside the gas station/convenience store, where Leo is eating ice cream. He stops mid-lick as the dust settles. With a shake of his head, he stands and goes inside, leaving Luca an extra minute to gauge Jay’s mood, but he’s giving very little away. He hasn’t even looked at them. It’s a dead giveaway of its own; at least, it is to Luca, especially given their less-than-subtle arrival.

“You coming? It looks like it didn’t go well at all.” Luca turns to look at Rowan as he asks, just to see him refusing to make eye contact.

“I can’t…I’m not…ugh. I’m not the best at this shit. You know that. What if I make it worse? Nah, I’m not moving from this spot.” Rowan makes no secret that he hates hard talks, but Luca had never heard him put it like that.

“I don’t think you can make it worse, Rowan. But maybe just me right now is okay, too. Do you want anything?”

“Nah. Gonna track the others while you do the hard work.” He wiggles the burner phone, which already has the microchip app open. “You get the old guys.” It’s flippant, but Luca knows it’s out of anxiety. It’s not the first time Rowan’s wolf has struggled when their Pack Alpha struggles.

“You say that like they’re ancient and notyours.”

“Sorry. I’ll stay here while you helpmyold dudes. Better?”

“Actually? Yes.” And with that, he pops his seatbelt and stumbles into the dusty car park.

Leo has come back out with a grape popsicle, which he unwraps and offers Luca. It gives Luca’s heart a tingle, which quickly disappears whenhe gets a close-up look at Jay.

There’s no other word for it except to say he is heartbroken.

He’s sitting ramrod straight with his hands on his thighs, likely squeezing bruises into them. Sadness leaks from every pore, and the only way Luca knows to fix that is with a blowjob or a cuddle. Since only one won’t get him time in a Florida prison, he does the second and saves the first one for later.

He just backs it up, and Jay accepts him on his lap, like he’s done for what feels like forever. The popsicle is cold, and the grape bursts over his tongue. It’s his favorite, so he presses a foot against Leo’s ankle to show his gratitude.

Jay rubs his forehead in the center of Luca’s back, between his shoulder blades, for a moment before whispering, “They’re dead, Luca.”

Dead? Like actually?

Wait.

There’s no need to confirm who Jay is referring to, but he spins so he can see Leo’s face. He’s not ready to face Jay’s grief full-on yet, but this way he might get part of the story. Luca has to assume neither of his packmates had anything to do with it. And boy, what a life he lives now that it very well could have been.

Leo finishes the cookie part of his ice cream cone, crunching and chewing until it disappears, but he nods at the end of it, just once.

His alpha’s tears silently soak the back of his shirt, and he still can’t think of anything he can offer to soothe. He doesn’t even need the story to know that Jay is feeling misplaced guilt and no small amount of grief.

Not grief for the people his parents were, maybe, but for the possibility that things could have been better.

As long as the people who hurt us are alive, we have the opportunity to fix it. To hear them apologize or make amends, and to maybe let the burden of our sadness go.

Luca remembers that conversation with his therapist Ruthie well. He’d been so angry at the mere thought of forgiving his father, but time and freedom have given him the chance to have perspective. Not a different perspective, but more of one.

But now? For Jay?

He wishes it could have been different. He turns and hands his popsicle to Leo so he can slide his arms around Jay’s neck. He pushes his mate’s nose into his neck, pumping out as much soothing mocha as he can and still keep him conscious.

“I’m sorry, Jaybird.”

Jay draws a hitching breath. “Me too. Why is this so hard?”

Surely that’s a rhetorical question. Even though they were assholes—past, present, and probably future—they were still Jay’s parents.

“I hate this. We’ve been here too long; we should probably go.”

Leo stands and dusts off his weird, shiny pants. “I’ll go break the news to Rowan that his Driving Miss Luca days are over. He’s going to be so sad.”