Twisted by Hannah Jayne(37)

Bex squeezed Trevor’s hand, and when he slowed to a stop and grinned at her, she leaned across the center console and pressed her lips against his, stamping out her self-consciousness.

He kissed her back. All her embarrassment faded into an incredible, heart-pounding zing that engulfed her whole body, making every inch of her feel alive. Her fingertips were vibrating as she laced them behind Trevor’s neck. His were warm and comforting as his hands snaked behind her back. They would have kept going, lost in the churning surf of that kiss and of each other, but the person in the car behind them starting wailing on the horn.

Trevor snapped away and stamped on the gas, and Bex laughed, jolting back in her seat.

“I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known it would break traffic rules.”

He shrugged and shot her a half smile that was as wonderful as his kiss. “Nothing in the driver’s ed manual about kissing at stop signs. At least, nothing against it.”

Bex’s head was spinning when Trevor turned into her neighborhood. If memories of her father were still playing in her head, they were layered over by the look in Trevor’s eyes, the way his hand felt in hers, the way his lips felt on hers.

“You’re my first boyfriend,” Bex blurted out. She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I said that.”

Trevor smiled his easy smile and brushed a lock of her pale-brown hair from her forehead. “I find that hard to believe. I bet all the guys at your old school wanted to date you but were too nervous to ask. Just my luck, huh?”

Bex thought of those days when she’d curl up on her bed, filling out workbooks that were supposed to pass as “school.”

“Not really. I bet you’ve had a ton of girlfriends though.” She worked the strap of the seat belt with her fingertips, focusing intently on the grain of the blue fabric.

“Not a ton. Just one serious one…before you.” He flipped on his blinker, waiting for traffic to pass. “Darla.”

Bex felt her heartbeat speed up. “I didn’t know you—?”

“Bex, your house.”

They were still four houses down, but the flashing lights from the police cruisers illuminated the entire front seat of Trevor’s car. She stared, mesmerized, mouth slightly open as two officers strode from their car and up the walk to her house. The front door was open, the lights inside blazing like day. Around them, neighbors were coming out of their houses in their bathrobes and slippers, carefully picking the way to the edge of their lawns or gathering on the sidewalk to see what was the matter.

“I wonder what happened…” Trevor started.

“Let me out.”

“What?”

Bex unclicked her seat belt and tried the locked door again. “Let me out, Trevor. I have to go. I have to see what’s wrong.”

The sound of the doors unlocking echoed in her ears and Bex flung open the door, reminding herself to breathe as a hot lump tightened her throat.

Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay, she begged in her head.

Behind her, Trevor was yelling her name. In front of her, a looming man in a Kill Devil Hills police uniform was yelling at her to stop. Bex tried to dart past him to find Michael and Denise, but the man caught her roughly. She slammed into his chest, the itchy feel of his uniform triggering another old memory.

“Relax, little lady,” the cop said, his drawl thick and drawn out.

“I won’t let you take my family away again,” Bex said through gritted teeth.

The man blinked at her but didn’t let her go. “This is a crime scene.”

“Bex! Oh thank God!”

When she saw Michael jogging down the walk, then beelining toward her, something inside Bex broke. She was coughing and crying and hiccupping as Michael held his arms out to her. She fell into them, suddenly unable to support her own weight.

“It’s all right, Officer. She’s our foster daughter.”

“What happened, Michael? What happened? Is Denise okay? I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Michael cradled Bex’s chin in his hand. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Bex. Denise is going to be fine. She’s right inside. We’ve been trying to call you, but you weren’t answering your cell.”

Bex nodded, gulping. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “What happened?”

“We had a little break-in.” Michael shrugged his shoulders almost apologetically and squeezed Bex’s shoulder.

“Oh.”

Michael led her into the house, and Bex looked around. Denise was sitting on the couch, pinching the back of her hand while she talked. An officer loomed above her, writing down everything she said in his little black pocket notebook.

“Oh, there’s our daughter now.” She beckoned for Bex to come over, then nearly crushed her in a tight embrace. “We’re so glad she wasn’t here alone.”

Bex didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that both Michael and Denise had referred to her as their daughter before the officer turned his notebook on her.

“What time did you leave, miss?”

Bex looked around her, trying to remember what happened before the bonfire. Then she thought of the detective lieutenant and felt exhausted. She found Denise’s hand and squeezed. “A little after seven, I guess. Is this—did he do this?”