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“Bullshit.” I grip the steering wheel hard, knuckles turning white from the force as I ease onto the interstate.
“Not bullshit. Facts.”
Juliet kicks back, propping her bare feet up on the dash, and we fall into a strained silence. The radio hums, hit after country hit, but Juliet doesn’t sing along. Tension’s thick in the truck, too many raw emotions running fast and hard below the surface.
Happy as I was to have Juliet with me earlier, right now I wish I was alone. I need time and space to think, to process all of this.
By myself.
We drive all afternoon, Juliet scrolling through social media on her phone, frown lines creasing her pretty brow. I’m almost certain she’s pissed at me, but I’m not sure why. And I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with it anyway, so I leave it alone.
I can’t stop thinking about Lacey. Our mom and Lacey’s father. A mystery man we may never identify. Who was he? A man worthy of my mother? How come I never heard anything about him? Do I know him? Does he live in Seaglass Beach still? Or was he passing through? Maybe a random guy from school?
It shouldn’t matter—he’s nothing to me—but for some reason it does. It feels like a betrayal of our dad, even though there’s no proof of this.
My mom loved someone before my dad.
The very idea has me off-kilter, like I’m on a boat in choppy water. I feel seasick, and I’m on dry fucking land.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” Juliet interrupts my twisted-up thoughts.
Pressing my lips together, I pull off at the next exit and make a sharp right into the first gas station I see. May as well fill up. One less stop to make, and we’ll get home sooner.
She laces up her shoes and darts from the truck without saying a word.
Fine by me.
I’m too wrapped up in my own crap to worry about making conversation.
Five minutes later, Juliet’s back at the truck and we’re all gassed up.
“Listen. I get that you’re dealing with a lot right now, what with meeting your half sister and all”—Juliet takes a deep breath, her chest rising, falling—“but I hate when you block me out like this.”
I tense, a headache brewing behind my eyes. Last thing I want to do right now is chitchat about my feelings.
“I need space, Juliet.” I pull out of the station, heading back to the interstate, my eyes fixed on the road.
“I hear you, I do. But this feels like before?—”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her lip quivering, and a part of me wants to pull over and make everything better. But another part of me—a bigger part of me—wants to keep driving, drop her off at home, and be alone.
“This has nothing to do with you. Or us. I just need time is all.”
She turns away from me, her shoulders squared toward the window. I don’t have anything more to say, so I crank up the radio. A drum solo fills the cab, and I retreat.
Back into myself, my thoughts, and away from her.
She stares out the window the rest of the way home.
27
JULIET
It’s true what they say. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Even after all this time—and everything that’s happened between us—King’s still the same old guy.
Grumpy.
