"I know I'm lucky to have them. I wonder sometimes what my life would be like if Paula hadn't come up with the plan for them to stick together. If she'd taken Zack and raised him on her own. I might have known that I had a half-brother but I probably wouldn't have seen him often. He'd be as much of a stranger to me as Tank, Finn and Luke are. Which would suck."

"Yeah. I guess I didn't really think until now how messed up it is that you guys didn't know each other before.”

We've reached my car and we both pause. I can tell she doesn't want to end the evening any more than I do. I look up at the stars. Out here, away from all the lights in the center of the city, it's so easy to see them. It's one of the main reasons I chose to stay in West Haven. I can't imagine living somewhere that I can't see the stars.

I look over at Sasha and she has her face turned up to the sky as well. The bright lights are reflected in her eyes and she looks like she's glowing. I lean down and our eyes meet. Then I place my lips on hers. Her mouth softens under mine, accepting, savoring. It's a sweet, simple kiss, nothing like the hot, passionate, claw-your-clothes-off kiss she laid on me the night of the engagement party. That kiss was about desire. This kiss is about longing.  It would take an army to stop me from taking the sweet comfort she's offering.

When I lift my head, we're both panting. I rest my forehead against hers while I catch my breath.

"I guess you have to take me home now." She folds her arms across her body, like she's preparing for a blow.

"I wish I didn't. But you are way too good for me."

She laughs softly. "You confuse me so much. I've never felt chemistry like this with anyone. Maybe that's what makes this so difficult. That thing, whatever it is, every time I see you it hits me right between the eyes. I know you feel it, too."

I blow out a breath, searching for the best way to tell her my story. She'll never understand what I meant when I said she was too good for me until I tell her.

"I used to be a thief."

Startled, she drops her arms. "A thief? Like you used to stick up people in the streets and take their wallets?"

Even in the middle of a serious moment, Sasha can make me laugh. "Nothing so obvious." I chuckle, relieved to see her smile again. "Or so violent."

"Oh, now I get it." She makes a face. "When you said thief it threw me off but I already figured things out at the party, Gabe. You told me you could have gone to jail and since you own an auto garage, it seems obvious.  You used to be a car thief." She doesn't seem particularly concerned about it.

"I did steal cars. Among other things. I could have gone to jail.”

Sasha nudges me with her arm. “People make mistakes. Sometimes they change their ways and get better. I mean, look at you. I’m not saying it was right but this doesn’t change how I see you, Gabe. You were a misguided kid but you weren’t out there hurting people.”

I clamp down the unexpected swell of emotion her words bring. Her understanding wasn’t what I was expecting. Most people, even those who are openminded, usually show a little hint of disdain when they find out about my past. Even though she doesn’t know the full extent of the things I’ve done, her words give me hope. Maybe she could one day truly accept me, all of me, including the less than honest urges I still struggle with every day.

“It's only sheer luck and the intervention of people who cared about me that saved me. Without them my life would look very different right now."  I stick my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out and tugging on the stray curls flying around her face in the wind.

She tilts her head. "Well, that's pretty depressing. What I was going to say doesn't sound nearly so bad now, so thanks for that."

I can't help but laugh at that. "I guess it is."

"I used to have so many dreams. I always thought I'd get a recording contract, fall in love and travel the world. But so far my plans aren't working out so well and I can't talk about it with my family because they don't understand why I can't live life the way they do. My sisters want to fix me up with their friends or men from church and I know why they're doing it. They think that I'll marry one of those guys and then I'll suddenly want the same things they do: a white picket fence and a ring on my finger. They just don't get it and I don't know how to explain it to them."

The last part comes out as a whisper.

"What do you want?" She's watching me with those big beautiful eyes and suddenly it seems vital that I know the answer to that question.

"I want to live. I want to be challenged. And I don't want to settle. Ever again. But I guess the joke's on me since I haven't achieved any of the things I thought I would."

She suddenly looks over at me and lets out a little nervous laugh. "I'm sorry. You've had to worry about things like going to jail and I'm over here lamenting all the family and friends who are so worried about me."

"You have every right to want to live your life your way."

She looks up to the sky. "Maybe I should give up on all these impossible dreams and marry a nice guy with a good job and benefits. But just the thought of that makes me feel like I'm dying inside. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"I do." Her eyes swing to mine and I open the driver's side door before I finish. "You, Sasha Whitman, are bored."