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onday and Tuesday, my mood remained black. The guy with the wrong number was relentless. He never left a message, but the times I did answer, he’d yell in an eerily deep voice that couldn’t possibly be human.

Ben had picked up on my temper, though he’d chalked it up to my nerves about the beginning of school. So far, I hadn’t disabused him of that notion.

On top of that, I couldn’t go thirty minutes without eating something, so I was trying to figure out how I was supposed to sit through fifty-minute classes starting Friday.

With a million overwhelming things hitting me from every direction, I was out riding laps around the trails we’d carved in the backyard and shallowly into the woods over the years. It was our fast circuit and my version of “walk it off” known to jocks the world over.

The tracks deepened further from the aggressive tread on the new tires. They ate through the sod within the first fifteen circuits, throwing clods of grass kissed dirt into the air. At this point, though, I’d ridden down to the tree roots.

Mom would have a fit when she saw them, but I didn’t stop. The buzzing energy hadn’t receded.

The sun heated my skin. At home, I didn’t have to bother with several layers of protective gear, and even my hair whipped into a frenzy, telegraphing my harsh turns and aggressive speed.

“Willa, come here!” Dad bellowed as I fishtailed with precision around the corner of the deck.

My foot thudded in a familiar rhythm through the gears as I rolled to a stop.

This was it. Mom must have woken up from sleeping off three double shifts in a row and clocked the damage done to the yard.

“Time to face the music,” I mumbled with false cheer before I cut the engine.

Dad leaned on the railing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I froze. “About what?”

He held my gaze for a beat before he shook his head. “Fine, if you’d rather keep it bottled up, that’s your choice—for now,” he warned, letting me know I wasn’t totally off the hook. He turned for the house, and I thought that was the end of our conversation until he called for me to follow.

Inside, Mom stood against the kitchen cabinets, frowning out the window while she cradled a cup of coffee like it was a lifeline. “Decided to relandscape, did you?”

Dad sighed. “Anneliese.” Both Mom and I straightened, because Dad never used her full name. “Willa’s been having a tough week.”

Mom gazed down into her coffee. “Haven’t we all?”

Dad let the comment roll off him as he beckoned me farther, heading for the front door. “Come on, Willa. We got you something that I think will cheer you up.”

Did he have a way for me to get snack privileges in class? I was sure Mr. Russell, the strict senior math teacher, would love to have me rattling through a bag of Doritos during the middle of his lesson.

When I realized I was being just as salty as Mom, who arguably had an excuse to be that grouchy—working forty-eight hours in three days would wreak havoc on anyone—I took a deep, calming breath and trailed after him.

On the front porch, Dad beamed at me, gesturing to the red Jeep in the driveway.

I frowned, because no one I knew drove something like that. Hunter’s was gray, although I wasn’t sure about Kolton and Ralph, but Dad wouldn’t have any reason to invite them over. He didn’t even know we talked.

What was happening only registered when he dangled a set of keys near my face.

My eyes rounded as I cut my gaze back to the car with amplified appreciation. “What? No way!” The words came out laced with a nervous laugh.

Mom’s sharp, “Robert Logan Walker!” kicked me out of my stupor, because despite Dad’s inclusive, “We got you something,” earlier in the kitchen, her shrill tone made it glaringly obvious that Mom hadn’t been involved in the acquisition of said vehicle.

I zipped off the porch, snagging the keys from his hand. If she planned to pull the overprotective Mom rank, then I wanted to at least bask in the idea of having my own set of wheels.

My beaming smile reflected off the window when I stuck my face against the glass to peer inside, but then I realized this wasn’t a car lot, and I could dang well open the door—until Mom won her argument with Dad, then it would be bye-bye free Willa.

Oh, Dad would totally have gone for the Free Willy joke if he could hear my thoughts.

“—we discussed—” Mom’s voice rose sharply enough that I caught a snippet of their conversation, but Dad hushed her, then they were back at it.

I sighed, popping open the door with less enthusiasm.

On one hand, Mom often worked in the trauma ward and encountered countless car accident victims over the years. On the other hand… I was seventeen. If Mom’s intention was to continue bubble wrapping me, she only had one more year.

A pine air freshener hung off the rearview mirror, making the interior smell like a mountain. That’d have to go. Strong scents gave me headaches, and with all the issues lately with my attacks, I didn’t need any help in that department.

Someone had stuck several stickers on the windshield, most of which I recognized as Dad’s sponsors that sometimes sent freebies. Apart from that, the interior had been scrubbed and vacuumed to within an inch of its life. Since I didn’t know too many adults so gung-ho on displaying the free promotional stickers, the previous owner had to have been a teenager, and the sheen of the leather surfaces and scent of beeswax told me he’d taken great pride in his ride.

Similar to Ben and his truck.

Deciding it wouldn’t kill anyone if I tossed the air freshener, I wrestled it off the rearview mirror and outside as I readjusted the angle.

As the mirror moved, a glimpse of a figure in the backseat sent my heart rate rocketing. I spun, hoping it’d been a prank by Nick, but there was no one there, even when I leaned over to check the trunk.

“Fine!” Mom yelled before she stormed inside, slamming the front door.

My heart sank as Dad approached. He watched his steps, unaware of my observation, as he rebuilt his excitement with the same minute actions and careful detail I’d seen him employ on a four-barrel carburetor.

By the time he made it to my open door, his happy mask was firmly in place. “So what do you think, kiddo?”

Who did he think he was kidding?

I glanced at the house.

Dad sighed. “Don’t worry about your mom, Willy. She’ll come around. It wasn’t a complete surprise, but I wanted you to have this for your senior year, especially now that you’ve been texting so much this summer.”

A small grin danced on my lips. “You mean now that I have a boyfriend? Aren’t dads supposed to lock their daughters up in ivory towers when they get a boyfriend?”

Dad scowled for a second before shaking it off. “Nah. You’ve had enough ivory towers in your life.” That was the closest I’d ever heard him come to admitting to disagreeing with how paranoid Mom’s job had made her in raising us. “Besides, Ben’s a good kid.”

“Sure, sure, sure.” I glanced in the rearview mirror. No shadowy figures. “And he’s big, so it’s a good thing the bench seat back there has lots of wiggle room.”

Dad arched a pointed brow, not rising to my bait. “Willahelm, are you trying to make your mom’s argument for her?”

“Nope!” I gushed, quick to adopt an angelic expression. “I love the Jeep, really. It means a lot to me. Thank you, Dad.”

Dad nodded with a grin. “Good. I picked it up from Al and made sure he did a thirty-two point inspection before he dropped it off. This Jeep is as safe as a tarantula in an arachnophobia convention.”

My head cocked. “Wait, is that safe or not? Wouldn’t they all try to kill it?”

Dad waffled his hand. “Or flee in terror, and I had to leave room for driver error.”

“How kind of you,” I deadpanned.

“Right? Now, before you get too excited, just know that means I can send you to the store for eggs whenever I want to, and I don’t have to worry about you scratching my baby’s paint.”

His baby being his behemoth truck he let me practice towing a trailer with. “I would be honored to violate any child labor laws and be your indentured servant.”

He laughed. “Ha! Cute. Now, do you have your license on you? I wasn’t joking about the eggs.”

I blinked. “I, oh—yeah. Wait, now ?”

My bafflement made his day. “Yeah, now . Your insurance and registration are in the glove box. Tank’s full. Here’s twenty bucks. You’re golden.”

“Oh, okay, right.” My hands froze at ten and two, the bill crumpled between my sweaty grip and the steering wheel. “By myself?”

His expression softened. “That’s kind of the point.”

“Um, yeah. Okay.”

He laughed. “Go on, Willa. Take her for a spin, and I’ll have your mom all buttered up by the time you get back.”

My nose wrinkled. “Gross. Poor Nick.”

“Hey, you could always take him along.”

I turned the keys, and the engine started immediately. “Well, guess I’ll see you three later! Toodles!”

Dad smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

With that, I hit up the town, barely resisting the urge to search GPS directions for a thirty-minute route I’d been traveling since my diaper era.

Even with school beginning the day after tomorrow, life was golden.

Until it wasn’t.

“Come on,” I begged the Jeep as its engine continued to squeal like a stuck pig. It’d started so easily at the house.

Finally giving up, I hopped out, my hands shaking with adrenaline as I shot off a text to Dad and popped the hood. It felt like everyone in the parking lot was staring at me, even if that wasn’t true.

Nothing looked loose inside the engine bay, and there weren’t any leaking fluids to point a big flashing arrow at them saying, “Hello! Problem is HERE!”

“Okay, Willa,” I coached myself, “you can do this. I have power, since it’s turning over, which points to fuel or spark issues.”

Sure, now for the new problem.

Jeeps became fuel injected before the end of the eighties, so I couldn’t exactly check either without any tools or another pair of hands. What I’d glimpsed of the trunk earlier when chasing that phantom figure had shown it was empty.

I could pull the plug caps off to see if they were getting spark, but I’d need someone in the driver’s seat to crank the engine.

Chewing my lip in thought as I stared, I slipped my phone from my pocket. Dad hadn’t texted back yet.

Oh, right. He was… buttering Mom up.

I winced, moving my thumb away from the call button. They didn’t get much quality time together with Mom’s crazy work schedule and Dad needing to be on dayshift for Nick and me. I’d wait for him to text when they were finished. It wasn’t like I was in an emergency, safely stalled out here in broad daylight in the grocery store parking lot.

What was the worst that could happen? A shopping cart catching wind and dinging the door?

About to pocket my phone, I jumped when it began vibrating in my hand.

“Oh, hey, Dad. Don’t freak out, but—”

“Whoa, slow down, Willa. It’s Ben.” His dulcet tones smoothed my frayed nerves.

My cheeks warmed. “Hi, yeah, sorry, Ben. I was expecting Dad’s call. Honestly, I didn’t even look at the name.”

“Not a big deal. So… want to tell me why you think your dad shouldn’t be freaking out?”

I cleared my throat and glanced away from the Jeep. “Wait, didn’t you have practice today?”

“Tryouts, actually. Usually we do them after school starts, but Coach wanted to get them locked in early. I guess his brother-in-law got hired on as the new coach at Huntington High.”

“And?”

A chuckle trickled through the speakers. “Right. I forgot you don’t watch football. They are our rivals, and Coach really doesn’t want to lose to them, but more importantly, not to his sister’s smug husband.”

That was a thing?

“Right.”

“We are taking a quick break, and I wanted to call you and see what you were doing tonight. You should probably give me the line you planned to feed your dad, because I’m a little concerned now that you’re changing the subject.”

Oh boy.

“Uh, well, I kind of got a new car. Dad surprised me.” I slammed the hood shut because this time I did catch someone glancing my way, and my awkward self would rather huddle in the car, playing around on my phone, while I waited for my parents than engage in polite conversation.

“What was that?” Ben questioned. “Did you hit something? Did something hit you?”

A grin tickled my lips. “Slow down there, Nervous Nelly. It was just the hood. It won’t start, and I don’t have a single tool on me.”

“Oh. But you’re okay?”

“Yep. Just stuck in a parking lot.”

“That’s good.” He cleared his throat. “So is your dad on the way?”

I shut the door behind me and scooted the seat back. “Yeah, I don’t want to talk about it, and no, we’re not fighting just… there are some things a kid doesn’t discuss when it comes to their mom and dad.”

“Okay?” After a beat, he seemed to get it. “Oooh, right. So I take it your mom’s home, huh?”

“Sure, I mean, it’s kind of a two-person sport,” I quipped despite my burning cheeks. If this conversation was occurring in person, I’d have been a stammering mess. Ben and I hadn’t kissed yet, and here we were, talking circles around my parents’ sex life.

“Is it?” he teased, sounding delighted.

I cleared my throat, averting my gaze even though he wasn’t here. “So, ah, I sent him a text. Now it’s just a waiting game.”

“Why don’t you call Hunter?” Ben asked after a moment.

I blinked. “Why?”

“He helped me when my old truck wheezed out—before I had your dad on speed dial, that is.”

“You have my dad on speed dial?”

Ben didn’t stray from his singular focus. “Willa, call Hunter.”

Even with all the conversations happening in the group chat, Hunter only ever spoke that first time to shut us up because he was at work. He was already enough of a grizzly bear that I didn’t want to poke him before that. Now…

“I don’t know, Ben. It’s not like I’m in the road. I’m in the middle of a parking lot. I’ll be fine. Hunter doesn’t like being bothered.”

“For stupid stuff, sure. This isn’t stupid. I’ll give him a call.”

“No, wait—”

He’d already hung up. I groaned and immediately redialed him, but it kept going to voicemail.

And again.

And again.

Finally, my phone beeped with an incoming call on my fourth attempt, but when I went to slide to answer, the caller ID read Hunter Armstrong.

My jaw unhinged a bit because seriously, when had my life turned into being Ben Pierce’s girlfriend and Hunter Armstrong calling me ?

Hands now clammy, I jolted from my stupor to accept the call before it cut to voicemail. “H-Hello?”

“Where are you?” came Hunter’s gruff, deep voice.

My mouth dried up. “Listen, I didn’t ask Ben to call you. I promise. You’re at work, right? I’m sorry he bothered you, but I’m fine. It’s not like I’m on some busy shoulder or anything. My dad should be calling me back any time now, because seriously, how much longer could he really need to defile my mother? I’ve already been gone forty-five minutes, and, oh my biscuits, I have no idea why I just told you that.”

There was a notable beat of silence on the other end of the line, enough to have me shifting in my seat. Yeah, if I was going to survive this conversation, I needed an outlet for all this nervous energy.

I popped my door open and started pacing. Looking like a loon in front of the shoppers became the lesser of two evils.

“Ben said you’re in a parking lot.”

“Exactly, I’m fine. I’ll hang out here until my dad—” I did my best not to wince. “Er, I’ll just wait here for my dad.”

“It’s over ninety degrees outside, and if your car won’t start, you don’t have AC.”

I shrugged. “No biggie, I’ll go back inside the store. See? Problem solved.”

“You’re at the store?”

My steps halted. Was that all he’d heard?

Before I could reply, he said, “Red Cherokee, right?”

I jerked, glancing around. Due to the nature of Dad’s career, I knew all the parts stores and mechanic businesses in the tri-county area. Hunter worked at a mechanic shop, and the only automotive place near Save-a-Lot was…

“Be there in five,” Hunter informed me before hanging up, and sure enough, the door opened at TJ’s Auto Shop, and Hunter Armstrong’s gigantic frame came into view.

So, apparently, this was happening.