“A drive-in!” I exclaimed, flashing Peter a brilliant smile, “You remembered!”

“Yes, of course I did Rae,” he replied with a wink and rolled the window down as we parked, programming the radio to the right station. The warm breeze filtered through the car as I rolled mine down at the same time.

“Snacks!” Hayley announced next to us as she jumped out of Jake’s truck.

R.J. opened the back latch, the tailgate swinging down as he hopped up to sit on the edge. Blankets had been tossed into the bed, “Hay, get me some too.”

She arched a brow, holding out her hand. He slapped a twenty in her palm as she grinned, “You’re paying for mine too.”

“Hey!” he protested.

“If I’m going for you, then you’re paying,” she dared him to refuse.

“Fine,” he scowled but I noticed his smile when she turned toward me, linking our arms.

Hayley always managed to get R.J. or Jake to pay when we were out. Now that I thought about it, Peter usually paid for me and I never had to ask. Interesting.

“Get whatever you want Rae,” Peter offered, opening his wallet. “Twenty enough?”

“More than, thanks. What do you want?” I asked, slipping the money into the front pocket of my favorite jeans.

“The usual.”

I nodded as Hayley began to pull me away . . .

***

“PETER!” I CALLED, LAUGHING as I dodged around Mack’s Nova and ran toward the swings. “Last one there is a rotten egg.”

“You’re gonna stink Rae!” he laughed as we swerved around parked cars, catching up to me easily.

“You should let me win. Boys are supposed to let girls win,” I informed him, nearly out of breath.

The swings were only feet away.

“No way!”

Peter was inching ahead of me when he tripped and fell, and I darted past to sit triumphantly down on an empty swing, “You alright stinky?”

He stood and brushed off his pants, laughing as he sat next to me, “Yeah, I guess you won after all.”

I beamed a wide smile, “Yep. Now you owe me treats.”

“Says who?”

“I do. I won, so you have to grab the popcorn,” I ordered, laughing as he grumbled under his breath.

“Can I go after the cartoons?”

I pretended to think it over, “Yeah.”

He pushed off and started swinging, whistling low and off key, but I didn’t mind. Peter was my friend and he was ok for a boy.

Once the cartoons ended, he stood, “Just popcorn?”

I nodded.

Pete turned and looked for Mack and Ron, “I don’t think I should leave you. Our dads are pretty far away.”

I pouted, “I’m not a helpless girl you know. I know some of that martial arts stuff.”

He snickered, “I know I taught you some of it.”

“So go get our treats.”

He shook his head, “Nope. If I leave you alone someone could snatch you up and hurt you.”

I sighed, “I want to swing.”

“We’ll come back. I promise.”

I shook my head, “The stars will be out soon.”

“We’ll be back in time. Trust me . . . please?”

I frowned but took his outstretched hand, knowing I trusted Peter enough to believe him, “I want candy too.”

Peter laughed as he tugged me toward the concession stands, “You always want candy.”

“No, I don’t,” I argued, but I did. He was so much fun to tease.

“Come on! I don’t want to miss the movie, and we need more money for all your candy.”

I squeezed his hand and smiled, letting him pull me over to my dad first . . .

***

“RAE, DID YOU WANT CANDY?”

I mentally shook myself and answered Hay who looked more than a little impatient. She wanted to return to Jake and I was holding her up, “Yeah, you know what I always get.”

“I do. You’ve picked up the same treats for years.”

Her innocent remark reminded me of the last time I came to the drive-in when my dad was still alive, the exact same day I had literally just been remembering. The thought of that day, the last time I felt real love and warmth before it was yanked cruelly away, hurt unbearably but I brushed it aside. Tonight was about fun, and I wouldn’t dwell on the painful past.

She bustled about, trying to make up her mind and failed miserably. Hay was terrible with decision making. I usually ended up telling her what to buy so we could move on.

Tonight was no different.

Fifteen minutes later we had paid for our treats and were headed toward the wide front doors of the concession area. Lost in laughter we didn’t notice the rough looking bunch of guys surrounding us until we were blocked on our way down the nearly empty aisle.

Baggy jeans, silver chains linking the wallets to their back pockets, combat boots, loose t-shirts, and leather jackets completed the ensemble of the guys standing in front of us. The only visible difference was hair and eye color and the t-shirts, of course. A bad feeling sank into the pit of my stomach.

Something about these guys was familiar.

“Hey gorgeous,” one of them drawled, a tall and lanky guy with shaggy brown hair and a scar running jagged along the left side of his face.

I froze, every muscle on alert. Who was this guy?