Sammie gazed out the passenger window, staring at the swirling snow as it fell around them, coating the trees. The streets. The windshield.

She curled her hands together in her lap and closed her eyes, listening as the wipers slid across the cold glass. Thwamp-thwamp-thwamp. Fast. Back and forth, over and over, working hard to keep up with the driving snow.

Sammie was grateful that she wasn't driving. Jon must have seen her staring out the windows of the concourse, must have seen the worry on her face as she studied the heavy snow. He had squeezed her hand and offered to drive her home.

She didn't accept at first, afraid of sounding too eager, using the excuse that he had to get his own vehicle back home. But he'd told her that he didn't have his car, that Mac had picked him up in his big truck.

That it would be no problem for him to drive her home.

Sammie didn't bother searching for more excuses after that and finally accepted his offer. Maybe she shouldn't have, maybe it wasn't a smart thing to do, but she hated driving in this kind of weather. Hated it, always had, ever since she was seventeen and had spun out on an icy road, nearly taking out a tree before sliding to a stop against a mailbox.

Of course, the downside to letting Jon drive was being trapped in the small confines of her car with him. Not that she felt trapped—which was the problem.

She snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye, studying his strong profile. The slight ridge of his nose. The shadow of stubble shading his jaw. Hard. Competent. A witness to horrors she couldn't even imagine. There was an inner strength there—but vulnerability, too. She could see it in the shadows that occasionally crossed his face. In the surprise that danced in his eyes when he watched Clare, like he couldn't believe she was there, couldn't believe she was his.

And she could see it in the heat in his eyes when he occasionally looked at her. He was so careful to hide it—usually. But there had been a few times when she'd glimpsed it, before he could blink it away.

All she could see now was competence, in the way one powerful hand gripped the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car up the interstate. Strong. Relaxed. In charge.

She trusted him.

The realization should surprise her but it didn't. After everything they'd been through, after the pain she had carried for more than two years, she shouldn't trust him. There was no logical reason for it. But she did.

Shannon had been right. Whether he was Clare's father or not, Sammie would have never left her with Jon if she didn't trust him.

But what about everything else? The way her heart skipped and danced whenever he was near. The way her stomach fluttered when he smiled at her. The way her palms grew warm and itched to touch him, even now.

That had nothing to do with trust.

Or maybe it had everything to do with it.

"Are you going to tell me what I missed back there?"

"Hm?" Sammie turned her head, felt her face heat when she realized where her thoughts had been heading. "Miss what?"

Jon chuckled, the sound making the heat from her face spread lower. "That's what I asked. Back at the arena. Why do I feel like I missed something?"

"Oh, that. You didn't. That was just Shannon and Taylor being themselves. Thinking they were being funny."

"Why am I not buying that?"

Sammie shrugged and shifted in the seat, slid her gaze out the window.

"Okay then, how about what else they said? About you quitting. What was that all about?"

"Nothing."

Jon was quiet for a long minute, long enough that Sammie started to think he was letting the subject drop. He did, only to replace it with another one she didn't want to think about.

He reached over and grabbed her hand, curled his fingers around it then gently raised it between them. His voice was as soft as his eyes when he spoke. "Then what about this? What was that all about? Because you've gone out of your way to not touch me since the night we spent together."

Sammie tensed, her mind searching for an answer—any answer—to give him. But her mind was dangerously blank. She looked away, ready to pull her hand from his. The car started sliding, back and forth, veering across both lanes of 83. Fear knotted her stomach. Her fingers tightened around his, even though she knew she needed to let go of his hand, that he needed both hands to take control of the car—

But he guided the car out of the slide with ease, expertly maneuvering it back into the right lane. He glanced down at their clasped hands, at the way her fingers gripped his own so tight, the flesh of her knuckles turned white.

Jon squeezed her hand then raised it to his mouth and pressed a quick kiss to her fingers. "Just a little slide, not a big deal."

"I—I know." And she needed to pull her hand from his, she really needed to.

"You still hate driving in this stuff, huh?"

"Um, yeah. I guess I do."

"Well, no need to worry. I'll have you home in no time. Safe and sound."

"Then what about you? How are you going to get home?"

"Mac's going to pick me up."

Sammie glanced out the window, at the falling snow that seemed to grow heavier with each passing minute. "It looks like it's getting worse."

"It's not too bad."

"You, uh, you could always stay with us, instead of having Mac drive all the way out to pick you up. There's plenty of room—"

"Somehow I don't think your parents would appreciate that too much."

"They wouldn't mind." Jon glanced over, one brow raised in disbelief. Sammie shrugged and looked away. "Okay, maybe they would. But they'd get over it."

"I think I'll just have Mac pick me up."

"But I feel bad—"

"It's not a big deal, Sammie. Honest."

"I think you should just go to your place. It's closer."

"And then what? You're going to drive home? Sammie, no. You hate driving in this stuff. Mac can come pick me up."

"I, um, I can just wait until everything clears up."

"It's not supposed to end until morning."

"Oh." Sammie looked out the window, turned her head and looked down at their clasped hands. Then she took a deep breath, letting the words fall from her lips before she lost her courage—or regained her senses.

"I could always just spend the night."