I catch sight of myself in the mirror as I'm headed back out.
There are dark smudges under my eyes. My hair's flying in fifty directions. My jeans have a smudge of dirt across the thigh.
I'm a mess.
I grab the brush off my dresser and drag it through my hair. There's no time to do anything else. I'll have to pray the look works to my benefit. Because if he isn't powerful enough to really help, I have to convince him that he is, and use that to . . . to use him.
Stomach heavy and throat tight, I'm back out into the hall and trotting down the stairs before Amy learns we've left without her.
Dad winks at me as I pass. I wince.
Chase looks relieved when I appear. He opens the door for me and then we're outside and climbing into his truck.
He starts the engine, puts his hand on the back of my seat to pull himself around while he's reversing, then heads up the street at two miles under the speed limit.
Of course he does.
