The Lovely Reckless

“He’ll be in jail by then.”

“They have visiting hours.” I swipe at my face, brushing away the tears. “So do whatever you want, Dad. You can’t stop me from loving him. It’s the one thing you can’t control.”

His expression is unreadable. “Are you really in love with this boy, Frankie? Do you even know what that means?”

“Of course I do.”

“What are you willing to do to protect him?” Dad asks.

“Anything.” I look my father in the eye.

He nods slowly and paces the length of the room. “I’ll make you a deal. Give me your word that you’ll end things with Marco, and I’ll let him walk.”

“What?” I must have misunderstood. Dad would never bend the rules—let alone the law. Not even for me.

“You heard me.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You’d never let someone break the law and walk.”

“I would if it helps me catch his boss. If you’re right and Marco is stealing these cars for someone else, that person is the one we want.”

“Marco probably won’t tell you.” Not after the way he reacted when I suggested it.

“Maybe he won’t have to. Let me worry about how to do my job.” Dad crosses his arms. “No games this time. If you start seeing Marco Leone again, we’ll charge him for his felony stunt tonight and let a court decide if he’s guilty and I will make it my personal mission to dig up every bit of dirt under that boy’s fingernails. And if he steals another car or commits a crime of any kind, the deal is off.”

“Why are you doing this?” I stare at my father, the man who is supposed to protect me. The man hurting me more than anyone ever has.

“I’m saving you from ruining the rest of your life.”

“I don’t need anyone to save me!” I yell so loud that my throat feels raw.

Dad doesn’t flinch. “So what’s it going to be, Frankie? Do you love this boy enough to give him up?”





CHAPTER 33

THE SPEED OF SORROW

I don’t remember leaving the barracks. Everything feels like a blur after Dad’s deal—that’s what he’s calling the choice he gave me. Destroying your daughter’s life doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

Outside, I stumble down the steps and miss the last one, cracking my knee on the sidewalk. The odors of gasoline, stale cigarette smoke, and vending-machine coffee mingle in the air. Cruz gets out of the car the moment she sees me.

What do I tell her?

“Frankie?” She frowns.

Around me, sirens wail and red and blue lights flash as police cars fly out of the parking lot. It reminds me of the night Noah died.

“What happened in there? You look like someone beat the crap out of you.”

Someone did.

We’re only a few parking spaces away from Cruz’s car. Ava watches us from the driver’s-side window.

“Wait.” I stop walking. “I need to tell you something, but not in front of your sister. Can we drop her off?”

“Yeah, but we can’t hang out at my house. My dad doesn’t let us have anyone over.”

“We’ll drop Ava off and go somewhere else.”

“I still can’t drive.” Cruz lifts her sling away from her chest.

“I can.”

“Your license is suspended.”

“Ask me if I care.” My voice cracks, and I close my eyes.

“Now you’re freaking me out.” She grabs my arm and drags me to the car.

As Ava drives, I stare out the window from the backseat. Cruz turns around to check on me, but she doesn’t ask any questions. The ride isn’t long enough, and I still haven’t figured out how to tell her that my dad is the cop who arrested Marco.

But I am going to tell her.

Cruz trusted me with the truth about her abusive father—a secret that could land Cruz and her sisters in foster care if the wrong person found out.

We drop Ava off, and I slide into the driver’s seat. I hit the gas, the GT-R flies backward out of the parking space. A quick jerk on the wheel, and the car fishtails and ends up facing in the direction I want to go.

Away from here.

Cruz puts her hand on the dashboard for support. “Are you crazy? Or do you want to end up in jail, too?”

The gearshift slides from fourth to fifth gear, and we pass the recycling plant where Cruz coached me before the race.

“Where are you going?” she asks. When I don’t respond, she smacks her hand against the dash. “Frankie? Answer me or pull over.”

“To V Street.” I wasn’t sure until now.

“For what? Did you hear something at the police station?”

“I need to drive.” Fast and hard—if I want to outrun the feelings that will break my heart when they catch up with me.

“Pull over.” Cruz isn’t screwing around, but I can’t stop.

My hands tighten on the wheel. “If I keep moving, nothing will change. Everything will be okay.”

“Why isn’t everything okay?” Cruz sounds calmer, as if she sees the hurricane churning around me.

Headlights flicker in the distance.

“Because my dad is a cop.”