Second Chance Boyfriend

like he didn’t even hear the truck pull up.
    Rolling down the passenger side window, I whistle low and he glances up, his gaze meeting mine.
    “Need a ride?” I ask, trying my best to keep my voice even, but I hear the slight waver. Did he?
    I hope not.
    Pushing away from the building, he saunters over to the truck and leans in through the open window, his arms propped on the ledge. “So you found the key.”
    “I told you did.” I texted him when I left work that I was on my way. Did he already forget or what?
    Sniffing the air, I catch the distinct scent of beer. He’s been drinking. And he’s always more of a handful when he’s been drinking. Not necessarily in a bad way, though. Not like the guys my mom always ends up dating. Those types were mean and sometimes used their hands to get their point across.
    “Thanks for coming to get me.” He pushes away from the truck and pulls on the handle, opening the door so he can climb inside. Settling into the passenger seat, he rolls up the window, pulls the seatbelt on and clicks it into place, then leans against the seat, his eyes closing. “I appreciate it.”
    That’s it? That’s all I get? No oh my God, you’re my hero, Fable or profusions of undying love? Not that I expected the last one but holy hell, we go from not talking or seeing each other for over two months, to all sorts of interaction with each other in the span of a few hours.
    I don’t know if I can take this, especially when he’s acting like our reunion is no big deal.
    “Need directions to my place?” he asks when I pull out of the parking lot.
    “Um, I thought I could go straight to my house.” I don’t want to take him to his place. Then how would I get home?
    “I can’t drive. I’m all sorts of fucked up.”
    In more ways than one, I want to tell him but keep my lips shut. “So what? If I take you home, who’s going to take me home?”
    “Call your boyfriend.” He shrugs, but the venom in his words is clear.
    “My boyfriend?” I stop at a red light and turn to look at him. His eyes are open and he’s watching me, his expression wary. “Who are you talking about?”
    “The guy who interrupted us earlier. Your fucking boss, Fable. Or should I say the boss you’re fucking?”
    Oh. My. God. Where the hell did he get that idea? “I should pull over right now and dump you on the side of the road.”
    “Go for it. I’ll call the cops and say you stole my truck.”
    Who is this guy? I give him my best, meanest stare, the one that scares the crap out of Owen every time I use it on him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
    He glares at me right back. “Try me.”
    The light turns green and I gun the engine, my foot pressing the gas pedal so hard we both lurch forward in our seat. The truck takes off quickly, the tires squealing against the asphalt, making me wince. Drew’s muttering curses under his breath but I don’t care. I ignore him, let the power of the truck’s engine propel me down the road, erasing my thoughts until all I feel is the speed.
    But I can’t control my mind, no matter how much I want to. It’s awhirl with questions. Why did he think Colin and I were together? Why would Drew text me to come get him if he thought that was the case? Why was he at the strip club? Did he have his hands all over a stripper? I swear I can smell cheap perfume lingering on his clothes. The idea that he was with another girl, had his hands on some stupid stripper, even momentarily, fills me with so much rage, my foot presses on the gas pedal even harder.
    “Are you trying to get us into a wreck?”
    His quiet voice pierces my thoughts, reminding me I’m driving like a reckless jackass, and I ease up on the gas, evening out to a more moderate speed. “Sorry,” I murmur, embarrassed that I’m acting the fool.
    My usual mode of operation when I’m in Drew’s presence.
    We’re silent the rest of the drive, with the exception of Drew telling me where to turn to get to his apartment. The neighborhoods gets nicer and nicer the farther and farther I drive. I’m filled with jealousy as I take in the trees that line the street, the perfectly manicured lawns with bright bursts of colorful flowers, even in the middle of winter. Landscapers maintain all of the lawns on this side of town and they are utter perfection.
    Unlike the grass and yards in my neighborhood, which are uneven and brown in spots. No pretty flowers in sight where I live. We mostly have overgrown shrubs at my