Page 12 of Romero and Juliette

Aria: I don’t think this is going to go the way you want it to go.

Sofia: Same.

Me: Y’all agree on something?

Me: Hold on, I’m going to go check for signs of a Biblical plague.

Sofia: Ha-Ha.

Aria: You sound like Jude.

Me: Unlike the two of you, I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. Jude is the best.

Me: Except when he’s giving me the stink eye when he catches me ogling Romeo.

chapter

six

Cruz

I’m halfway to Houston when my phone pings with an alert. It’s time for me to stop and stretch my legs anyway—before my bad knee decides to start misbehaving—so I pull off at one of the Texas supersized gas stations. The cheerful beaver sign looms like a giant sun in the sky.

Normally, these places are far too people-infested for my comfort, but they are very dog-friendly, so I’ve made my peace with being a customer. Besides, they have clean bathrooms and an amazing coffee bar.

I pull my phone from my pocket before going inside. I should deal with whatever this is before being assaulted by a horde of hungry Texans.

Buttercup: I did something. I need you to promise me you won’t be mad.

I frown, staring at my phone, wondering if I’ve conjured her out of thin air.

Why would she even have my number, let alone be texting me?

Though obviously, I must have saved her contact info myself, because no one else would have saved her under that name.

A quick scan of previous texts shows a couple of conversations from months ago about the work her family’s shop has done on my van. Which makes sense. Because I know her in a professional capacity. Related to automotive care.

And not in any way related to my borderline creepy obsession with her.

So then why is she texting me? And why now?

Me: Are you okay?

Me: Is something wrong?

Buttercup: Yes, I’m fine. Safe.

Me: Why would I be mad?

Buttercup: Because it affects you.

Me: I don’t understand.

Buttercup: Promise you won’t get mad.

Me: At you? I could never be mad at you.

Buttercup: Just promise.