Page 210 of Override

"I'm here."

"I don't think I can do this."

His hand leaves the gearshift and turns palm up on the center console between us. An offer. Not a demand. I stare at it. Then place my hand in his.

His fingers close around mine. "We can leave."

I look toward the house in the distance. "I know."

"I mean it."

"I know."

"We can turn around right now."

I tighten my fingers around his. "Keep going."

He does.

The SUV moves slowly along the long driveway, and memories rise around me with every turn. Learning to ride a bike here. My father running behind me, one hand gripping the seat until I yelled at him to let go.

Coming home from college and finding my mother waiting on the front steps because she'd missed me but didn't want to admit she'd been watching for my car.

Christmas lights wrapped around every tree.

My father teaching me to drive in the empty stretch beside the garage and shouting at me to brake while I screamed that I was trying.

I swallow against the sudden pressure in my throat. Why haven't I thought about those things in so long?

Keaton's thumb moves once over the back of my hand.

The house gets closer. My heart beats faster. There are cars outside. Too many. I recognize my father's. My mother's. Two of the vehicles belonging to his security and a black SUV I've seen outside Rizzoli events.

"Keaton."

"I see it."

"Why is Callum here?"

"Probably because he doesn't trust me."

I turn toward him. "Should he?"

Keaton considers the question. "Currently?"

"Yes."

"No."

Despite everything, a laugh escapes me.

It disappears when the SUV comes to a stop. Keaton turns off the engine. Neither of us moves. I stare at the house. My childhood home. The place I spent months begging Ronan to let me visit before I finally stopped asking.

My father is in there. My mother is in there.

And I suddenly feel eight years old. "Maybe Wheels had the right idea."

Keaton turns toward me. "About what?"