Free The Space Between (The Book of Phoenix) by Kristie Cook Page A

She probably had no clue what real family issues were anyway. Not like I did. But she was right. It was time for me to go. Even if I could help her through this, in the end, all I could bring her was more grief. This was probably some passing phase with me, and I’d soon be breaking her heart.
    I gave her a short nod, stood and pulled some money out of my wallet, and threw it on the table. Without anything to lose, I bent over and almost touched my lips to Leni’s forehead, but then I remembered that crazy-good feeling she gave me when we simply touched. I didn’t need that now when I was preparing to leave her. So I simply tugged on a curl as she looked up at me with silver-green eyes full of despair, no matter how hard she tried to blink it away. Then I turned and strode off before I changed my mind.
    After pulling out of the parking spot, I couldn’t help a last glance over my shoulder to our table at the window. Leni was already gone.
    Eyes forward. Focus forward. Time to move on .
    I rolled my neck and shoulders and blew out a breath as if I could blow Leni out of my system. But the harder I tried to not think about her, the more I did. Something had happened to her last night. I felt it in my bones. And if they—it, whatever had been in the bushes—returned and harmed a single curl on her head, I’d never forgive myself.
    My foot jumped from the gas pedal with the thought of leaving her alone and vulnerable. When the car didn’t seem to respond, I glanced at the speedometer and realized I’d only been going twenty miles an hour anyway, as if my subconscious was telling me not to leave. Maybe I should stick around to be sure she’s okay. I pulled to the side of the road to consider this idea. My mind ran away with itself, lost in forming a plan until a truck blasted past me so fast it shook the car and jolted me back to reality. I knew better than to sit on the side of the road. Shit, Winters, what the fuck is wrong with you?
    I was not a stalker type. I wasn’t even an up-front-in-your-face-I-want-to-be-your-boyfriend type. I was losing my mind, and the best thing I could do for me and for Leni was to leave town. As I stepped on the gas pedal and merged onto the road, my decision made, the pull inside me protested. It screamed louder and louder the faster the car went and the farther away from Leni I drove. I tried to ignore the ache, using every bit of my self-control to keep my foot on the pedal and my mind focused forward.
    She’s just a girl, no different than any other chick. And with a lot of baggage. You really don’t want to get involved with all that.
    True. Girls with baggage—I’d dealt with enough of that. Nobody seemed to have more baggage than models and strippers, and I’d had my fill of both. My own bags were enough for one person to carry. I didn’t need to take on Leni’s, too.
    Giving myself a mental pat on the ass for doing the right thing, I turned up the radio until the beat pounded through me and guided the car toward the ramp for the interstate. But although I pressed harder on the gas, the car refused to accelerate. Then it lurched. Sputtered. And died.
    I sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the gray smoke pluming from under the hood. The music’s bass continued pounding out a beat, so the battery still worked. Smoke like that meant the radiator or engine, neither of them a quick fix. I banged my fist against the steering wheel. Why now? Now that I’d convinced myself to go, I wanted nothing more than to get far away from here.
    With a frustrated groan, I threw open the door. A body jumped out of the way. I looked up to find Leni standing in the middle of the road, staring at me.
    “You okay?” she signed, her eyes wide. “All the smoke. . .”
    “What are you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?” I jumped out of the car, grabbed her arm—ignoring the dizzying effect the touch had on me—and pulled her to the shoulder and into the grass. Far away from danger.
    Her