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“It’s definitely broken,” Gavin says from where he sits behind the wheel, drawing me back to the present. He’s angled toward me, with my right wrist gently wrapped in his big hand as he inspects the bruised, swollen flesh of my knuckles. “I’ll take you to the Urgent Care.”
I say nothing, just turn away from him and return my hand to my chest, cradling it. It hurts like a bitch, but I savor the pain. Makes me remember how good it felt to beat that meathead’s face in.
Gavin starts his truck, and gets us on the road.
“They’re dropping the charges,” he tells me after a moment. It’s quiet, save for the rumbling diesel engine. He knows better at this point than to turn on the radio. I still avoid music when I can, but especially the radio. I don’t want to hear a new song, and fall in love with it, knowing Izzy might never?—
Don’t. Don’t even think about it. You both can catch up when she comes home. Music. Movies. Everything.
Turning my head to look out the window, watching the world pass by, I remember Gavin spoke, and manage a short, “’kay.”
“You’re lucky.”
I snort softly at that.
“I mean it, Mase. You broke the kid’s nose. Could’ve done much worse if his buddy wasn’t there to pull you off him. You’re eighteen. You’re lucky you didn’t get slapped with assault charges. That shit stays on your record.”
Would’ve been worth it.
A sigh fills the cab of the truck. “Kid, I know it’s been rough but?—”
“But nothing,” I say tightly. “The asshole deserved it. What he said on?—”
“Stay off the fucking internet.” There’s a tired edge to his voice. It’s not the first time we’ve had this argument.
I twist my head around, staring hard at his profile. “But they’re talking shit. Spreading lies, and-and talking about her like?—”
“I know,” he says with a gruff sort of gentleness, cutting me off. His gaze flicks to mine, brow furrowed. “I know…but you can’t go around punching every single one of them into shutting up. They’re gonna talk, and they’re gonna keep talking. It’s what people do.”
“It’s not right.”
He nods, facing the road. “No. It’s not.” Flicking the blinker, he takes the on-ramp onto the highway, leading us out of Shiloh. “But neither is punching the shit out of every dumbass who opens their mouth. Not only is it wrong, but it’s impossible. This is a far bigger fight than you.”
Clamping my teeth together, I throw my head back against the seat and stare unseeingly ahead.
“I think it’s time you talk to someone.”
Another common argument we have.
“Sure. When she comes back.” One more thing to add to the list of things to catch up on…
“Mas—”
“There’s nothing they can do for me right now,” I say tightly. My body tenses on reflex, and an ache shoots up my right arm. Wincing, I squirm around, trying to get more comfortable. “There’s just…this. There’s just waiting.”
The leather steering wheel creaks under his grip. “Mason, I’m worried.”
Yeah, yeah, everyone’s worried. What else is new?
I wish they wouldn’t bother. It’s just energy being wasted. How I cope while she’s gone…it’s not only temporary, but it’s my problem. Mine. They need to just back off, and stop trying to shoulder this burden. I can take it…but I can’t take it if I’m taking on their worries too.
My baggage quota is capped out.
“I’m fine,” I force myself to say, gritting the words through my teeth. “I’ve been good all summer. I stopped drinking.” Mostly. “Stopped partying. I…I’ve been better.”
A heavy, pointed sort of silence fills the cab, before he finally speaks. “You rarely leave your room.”
I go see Jeremy. Not that I say that out loud.
