"He has to go to rehab," Lori tells me over brunch. It's been a month since the accident and while my injuries are essentially nonexistent, I've been keeping a low profile around town because one, no one likes a guy who walks around like life is great after putting a girl in the hospital, and two, Gunner's been slapped with a DUI and now rehab.

The silver lining to my social exile: I’m working my ass off at Cork’s and pulling in more money to cover the Kane household bills.

"Rehab?" I question, stabbing a hash brown with my fork. So, we're really at breakfast, but for some reason Lori insists that it's brunch. I think that's just something people in fancy cities say, and it's somehow spilled over to our sleepy town that has nothing fancy about it, save for two beautiful streets full of mansions and luxury cars that should belong to the county over.

She shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. "It lessened his potential jail time."

Right. Gunner is facing jail time. Blowing out a deep breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose. This entire situation is a nightmare. And one of the worst things of all is that my punishment, in combination with my prior fuck-ups, is community service. Go ahead, laugh ‘til you crack a rib.

Community fucking service.

After I got into a car with a drunk driver and we crashed into a couple.

After all the shit I put Evie through that she's just getting past.

After all the horrible, horrendous, shady-ass things I did for the Devil’s Shadows MC.

After all of that, what do I get?

Community service.

Jesus. I deserve jail time. I deserve rehab. I deserve something a hell of a lot worse than being forced to do something I should already be doing, just as a member of my community.

"When do you meet your little brother for community service?" Lori asks me, shifting my focus back to her and away from the thoughts plaguing me these days.

"In a little bit. I'm taking him to the park to play catch. Then maybe an ice cream or something." You think I'd know what to do with an eleven-year-old kid. I mean, it wasn't that long ago that I was that age. Plus, I have two brothers. But the truth is that I practically raised Daisy, and I would probably do much better paired with a little sister than brother. "His name's Marco. I was paired with him through the Big Brothers and Big Sisters of Georgia."

The left side of Lori’s mouth ticks up, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She looks weary and tired in a way that has nothing to do with how many hours of sleep she clocked last night.

"Everything okay, Lor?"

"Sure."

I stab another hash brown. That's a non-answer if I've ever heard one.

She squirms across from me, and I know she wants to say something; it's burning the tip of her tongue, but she wants me to ask her for it, to pull it out of her. Jesus. I almost roll my eyes because Lori and I don't do shit like this. We don't play games. We know what's up.

What was it that Gunner had asked me the day of the accident?

Does Lori think there's more between us than there is?

"You wanna say something, Lori? You can ask me anything, you know." I watch her closely, taking in the way her eyes widen as she licks her bottom lip, biting it between her teeth like she's not sure if she wants to go down this path or not.

Finally, she sighs and wraps her hands around her coffee mug, even though it's gotta be cold by now. "What're we doing, Carter?"

Ah, shit.

Gunner was right.

"We're having breakfast."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but a small smile glances off her lips. "You know what I mean. Don't try and be all charming. Where is this going?" She gestures between us, a small frown dimpling between her eyebrows.

"Lori," I lower my voice, leaning in slightly. I just gotta be honest with her. "I thought we were just having a good time. I never realized you thought more would come of it."

She frowns, looking down at her nearly untouched egg-white omelet.

"Look, I never meant to lead you on or—"

She shakes her head and I stop.

"Lor?"

"You never led me on, Carter." Her eyes meet mine once more, and I see them glaze over with the film of unshed tears. "I guess I was just hoping that, well, it doesn’t matter.” She waves a hand. "Forget I said anything."

I settle back in my chair, watching her for one more beat. Well, I guess today is the last day Lori and I will ever kick it. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

“I thought we were on the same page.”

“I know. I guess I just thought at some point, things would develop between us. I mean, I’m twenty-eight years old. My friends are all married, starting to have babies and I, I just thought I’d be in a real relationship by now.”

I nod, trying to understand things from her perspective. It’s true. Most of the people we graduated with, the ones who didn’t leave immediately after graduation and decided to stick around here, are coupled up. Married, kids, some of them on their second or third baby. Of course, I never saw myself as someone to settle down and have a family until later. Like way later. But for Lori, it must be tough being singled out in a group of girls whose lives seem to be moving in a different direction.

“I get what you’re saying, Lori. But that’s not enough of a reason. Just because we have a great friendship and are good, I mean really good, in bed together, that doesn’t mean we should get married. Don’t you want more?”

She nods, studying her hands, a tear escaping over her eyelid.

I bow my head, staring at my cold coffee. I didn’t see this coming and I hate that I made Lori cry. She’s a good girl, a good friend. And I care about her, as a person. But not as my girl. “I’m sorry, Lori.”

She nods again, turning her face away as she swipes at a tear.

I glance at my phone, noting the time. I stall, knowing that the next words out of my mouth are going to make me seem like an insensitive jerk but I can’t be late for community service. Especially not on the first day. "All right, well, I've gotta stop home before I link up with Marco so..."

"Let's get the check."

I nod, signaling to the waitress.

Lori turns her head again, but I catch the tear that drops over her lid. She brushes it quickly with the back of her hand and my chest tightens.

Let's add this to the list of Carter Kane fuck-ups. Why do I always end up hurting the ones I care about, even when I’m trying to do the right thing?

"What's good little man?" I ask the lanky preteen sulking by the bleachers as I walk up to him. I've got two mitts tucked under my arm and an old baseball I found in the garage in hand. I toss him the ball lightly and note the spark of surprise that lights up his eyes as he catches it.

"You Carter?"

"Yep. You Marco?"

He nods, shifting his weight as he sizes me up.

I immediately like the kid. In part, because he reminds me of me at that age: untrusting, sullen, and cagey as hell.

"I know jiujitsu," he says eventually, his eyes narrowing slightly, a hard glint in them.

"That's pretty cool. I can box all right."

"I'm saying, don't try nothing with me. I know jiujitsu." He takes a step closer.

What the... oh Jesus. I sweep my eyes over him. Has someone hurt this kid? Someone in my position? Someone who he's supposed to be able to trust? What the fuck?

I hold my hands up in surrender, a mitt in each palm. "I'm just here to play catch with you man, hang for a bit. Sound good?"

He nods slowly, shuffling forward as I toss him a mitt. "And because it was court ordered."

I flinch at the truth in his words. "Yeah. There's that too."

He's watching me intently, waiting to see if I want to be here or if I'm just going through the motions. I take a look around the park and the baseball diamond tucked into the back corner, away from the slides and swings. It's beautiful today. All sunshine and blue skies and freshly mowed lawn. It reminds me of when me, Jax, and Den were kids. We'd run though the outfield chasing each other, playing cops and robbers. Things were simple then. At least I had that, those simple times without the stress and the worry and the having my back up all the time. I don't think this kid ever had that.

"I was a stupid little shit, you know?" I tell him finally.

His eyes widen at my cursing, but I feel like this kid isn't just a kid. So I'm going to talk to him like he's a man.

"Got into a car with a drunk driver. He's a buddy of mine. We'd been BBQing, drinking some beers. We ran a stop sign and plowed into another car. My buddy's in rehab now, and I've been ordered to do community service."

Marco's head drops.

"But just because that's what started this ball rolling doesn't mean I don't wanna be here, little man."

His eyes lift to mine.

"In fact, I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing on such a beautiful day then being outside in this sunshine, hanging with a buddy, and tossing a baseball. What d'ya think? You up for some catch?" I wave my mitt at him.

He looks up, his baseball hat crooked, slanting across his forehead, before giving a slow nod. We walk out to left field and toss the ball a few times, feeling each other out.

But as time passes, his throws grow crisper, his catches cleaner, and I realize the kid's a pretty good ball player. Once upon a time, I was all-state. It was a long time ago, but I still have a few pointers.

"You've got a good arm, little man!" I call over to him.

He nods, the ghost of an almost-smile hugs his lips before it slips away. He throws to me, hard, the ball stinging my palm through my glove.

"Okay, hotshot, back up a few feet. Let's see what you can do."

His nose flares at the challenge, and we both back up a few paces.

Again, he hits my glove square on. Clean, crisp, a perfect throw.

"You like baseball?"

He shrugs.

"I play with a bunch of guys on Sunday mornings. If you ever wanna join us, come on by to Hudson Park at ten."

A scowl hugs his features for a brief second before he shrugs it off. "We'll see."

That's all he says and for now, I decide to leave it at that.

For now, it's enough.