Chapter 122: His Icy Blue Corvette

Scott opens the passenger door to his silver Accord and takes my single crutch, throwing it in the back seat. He's a native to the Bay Area, so the fifty-degree weather is cold but bearable as he wears a thick fleece. He eyes my jacket, hat, and gloves as we buckle in, but I only shrug. I'm not as bad as Aspen, but I'm still from southern California — fifty is chilly.

"Thanks for the ride today. The cab bill to Hunter's Point would have killed me."

Once a year our company selects a week where various teams go out into the community and volunteer. This year my department picked the San Francisco Community Center for Youth all the way out in Hunter's Point. When I voted on the location, I lived in Oakland with a car. Now the distance feels astronomical.

"No problem, Marissa. I feel partially responsible for your ankle, so it's the least I can do." Scott turns into traffic, but I keep my head down and don't look at anyone on the sidewalk in fear I'll see Ryland.