Page 3 of I Wish I Would’ve Warned You (Forbidden Wishes #3)

COLE

T he girl in my passenger seat is humming something soft and slow. Dark lyrics fall from her lips between breaths like she doesn’t realize she’s saying them out loud.

“Strangle you until your last breath…”

“Death looks good on you…”

If I were smarter, I’d turn the car around.

But I’ve never been good at listening to my gut—especially when someone looks like they need help. This? This exact moment is the kind of shit that’s gotten me into trouble for most of my life.

She’s curled into the passenger seat, soaked through in a clingy pink hoodie and cutoff jean shorts. Every few seconds, I catch her glancing over at me. Not shy. More like cautious curiosity—like she’s debating whether to thank me or claw the door open and roll.

Her eyes are unreal. Green like old glass in sunlight—fractured, sharp around the edges. Her mouth is full and slightly chapped, her lashes thick and wet.

She doesn’t look soft. She looks like something I’d want to paint in charcoal and oil—moody lighting, dripping water, tension in every line of her body.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

I nod once.

“I was out there because I was planning to lose my virginity.”

I blink.

“That’s a hell of an opening line.”

“You always tell that to the guys who save you from murderers?”

“No. Just the ones who look like they could use something to think about while they’re driving.”

I don’t respond. If I do, I’ll say something I shouldn’t.

“I was with my boyfriend,” she mutters. “Or... I guess he’s not anymore.”

I keep my focus on the road. “You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly reckless.”

“Can’t I be both?”

“Depends. You still planning to climb into cars with strangers?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you’re learning.”

She glances over again. “You haven’t asked for my name.”

“I figured if you wanted me to have it, you’d offer it.”

She goes quiet after that. Then shifts her attention to my left arm, watching the ink that wraps around my wrist and vanishes under my sleeve.

Her gaze lingers. I let it.

“You always make it a habit of rescuing girls from gas stations and buying them snacks?”

“Not usually.”

“But you gave me your wallet.”

“I did.”

“And the condoms?”

“You gonna hold that against me?”

“Not yet.” She pauses. “You have two licenses.”

She caught that. Interesting.

“I move around a lot,” I say. “And I don’t always use the same last name.”

She snorts. “Yeah, no red flags there.”

“I could’ve left you in the rain.”

“You still could.”

I glance over. “Planning to report me when you get home?”

“I’m planning to survive the night. After that? We’ll see.”

We ride in silence for a while, rain tapping against the windshield. Then I catch her staring again—this time at my hands, my jaw, my ink. She’s not even pretending to be subtle.

“You always stare that hard, or am I just lucky?”

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away.

“I was trying to figure out what your tattoos mean.”

“They mean I don’t always make great choices.”

“Any better than picking me up?”

“No.”

She tucks her arms tighter around herself and looks out the window again. We don’t speak for the rest of the ride.

Not until I pull off the exit she calls out, leading to a run-down strip of a motel that’s falling apart at the seams.

She straightens in her seat.

“You sure this is it?” I ask.

“It’s temporary.”

I kill the engine. She hands me back my wallet.

“Thank you for not being a serial killer.”

“You’re welcome.”

She unbuckles, then pauses. “I know you said you don’t usually help people like this…”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, I don’t want to owe you.”

“You don’t.”

She opens the door, then looks at me again.

“What if I did want to give you my name now?”

I stare at her a second too long.

“Don’t,” I say. “Not yet.”

She nods and steps out of the car. At the motel door, she pauses and glances back.

I reach into the glovebox, tear off a crumpled receipt, and scrawl my number. I get out, walk over, and press it into her hand.

“Call me in a few days,” I say. “If you’re still alive.”

She stands still, blushing and staring at me like she’s not going to go inside, like she’s going to tempt me to end this night differently.

“Please go inside now, ”I say, taking one last look at her, “before I ruin you.”

I turn around and leave first before I do something even dumber.