I recoil at his vehemence.
“What? No! How could you even say that?” Juniper’s voice rises, a mix of shock and hurt in her words.
I reach for Ethan’s arm, but he pulls away. “Ethan.”
“No, Mia. This is fucked up.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong,” I argue, desperately. We’re just jealous. I was just jealous. I can see that now.
“Um … it’s a right here,” Juniper says gently.
I keep driving, my focus split.
“Mia. It’s right here.”
“What was that?” I blink, searching for the turn.
“Go right!” she calls, her arm reaching through the gap between the seats.
“Oh, shit.” I slam on the brakes, but it’s too late. The tires lock, and we skid past the turn. In a panic, I yank the steering wheel, but it only makes things worse.
We’re flung to one side then lurch to the other, the car zig-zagging then sliding out of control towards the trees.
Oh my god. We’re going to crash.
I shriek.
Juniper screams.
Ethan grabs the wheel and—
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact.
We stop.
The car settles on the other side of the road, and when I look up—and realise we’re all fine, and still alive—I start to laugh.
I grow hysterical, even.
Thankfully, there’s no traffic. Just one long stretch of road, a dotted line to my right, and a wall of trees on the left. I sit back, taking a breath then wheezing, brought to tears by a fleeting thought. “Look Ethan,” I warble. “It’s like we’re back home.”
My cheeks are wet, and I must look a right mess.
“Are you okay?” Ethan asks me softly, and I smile, wiping my eyes.
“I’m okay.”
He twists in his seat. “Juniper? Are you all right?”
I catch her gaze in the mirror as she answers, “I’m fine.” She blinks back at Ethan. “But um … we really should be on the other side of the road.”
I nod, pulling off, ever so carefully, and venturing back to the other side.
We reach the cabin unscathed—physically, at least—and I pull up outside.
Ethan unclicks his seatbelt then turns to face Juniper. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I’m so sorry for what I said.”
I also swivel in my seat then add, “I’m sorry too.”
