“What?” He swiveled to stare at her. “Alt? Les-les-what?”
She shrugged, her shoulders brushing her hoop earrings as she raised one hand to press against her heart. “Lori has my heart. She's mine, all mine.”
The way his jaw hung open was so perfect, she’d laugh until she hiccupped if she didn’t have a semi on her bumper.
“Gotcha.”
“Oh.” He collapsed into his seat, laughing with her. “Fair.”
“Listen nicely, and you can choose next. Make fun of my music, and you’ll be thumbing for truckers.”
A moment after the first soaring vocals of “The Roads We Choose” filled the car, she connected her favorite song with Rey’s life, but then the lyrics washed over them, and it was too late to skip the track.
I still remember the miles flowing past our tires. Taking the long road home, rolling in the car with you. Laughing so hard, we never even saw the fires.I didn’t know what I had, didn’t know what I had to lose.
His complete attention focused on the stereo in the console.
A blue shirt in the sun, a laugh, a crowd, a crack in time. If I could change one thing, just one, I’d still be singing in that car with you. Taking the long road home. Falling silent, I think of you. Sleepless nights, I dream of you.
Arms wrapped around his chest, he rocked against the shoulder belt. She’d pieced together that he rarely slept through the night.
I left a long trail of my own missteps. Thought I’d lost my voice when I lost you. Nothing left but a blue shirt against my chest and an empty seat filled with the echo of my regrets. Oh, on the roads we choose, I chase everything we never planned to lose.
This song. Damn. The haunting notes that reminded her to avoid mistakes took on a painfully literal meaning of putting a foot wrong, on a landmine, and losing a voice. She’d never heard it this way.
Driving the long road home, looking for you. Falling silent, I think of you. Sleepless nights, I dream of you. I didn’t know what I had, didn’t know what I had to lose.
Cars passing on both sides clued her that she’d dropped below the speed limit. She deliberately depressed the gas pedal, butRey hit replay and half turned to the window with shaking shoulders. She couldn’t keep driving while wanting to reach for him, her throat clogged and burning, wondering what he felt.
There was a rest stop with plenty of spaces, and then the car was off. He hadn’t turned from the window, so she touched his shoulder. “Sorry about that song. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s good. True. And bew-bew-bew—” He raised a hand to his face, but she couldn’t see what he did.
He must meanbeautiful.Now he’d left her speechless.
He turned, blinking and squeezing his lips together while he inhaled roughly through his nose. “This.” He waved at the prosthetics. “My road.” His smile wavered, vanished, and he dipped his head. With one hand, he separated each of her fingers and linked their hands.
“What can I do?” she asked.
He took another deep breath and this time he seemed to find calm, because he raised their hands and feathered a kiss on her thumb knuckle. “A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou, beside me singing in the wilderness.”
“Shakespeare?” When she thought she had him pegged, he revealed another layer.
“Rubai-Rubai—” He gritted his teeth and started over. “O-mar-Kha-yam.” Her face must have shown her confusion, because he continued. “Friend. Liked poems.”
The fogged intimacy inside the parked car made it easier to ask questions. “How can you recite that line but not be able to say other things?”
“Poem. Easy. Songs too.” He braced his free hand on the dashboard and squeezed his eyes shut, as if forming words hurt. “Auto recall vers-us new i-i-idea.”
They both sat quietly for a few moments, not trying to do anything more complicated than holding hands and breathing together.
She knew there was one more topic to tackle before they checked into a motel, in case he’d made assumptions. She wasn’t sure where they stood, because they were more than friends, but at the same time she didn’t want a casual hook-up. “Actually being with you is different than texting. It’s like a first date, but it’s not, because I know about your life.” She knew his background, his mother, his exercise routine, what he liked to read and watch on television, but months of texting hadn’t prepared her for this intensity.
Their linked hands squeezed together, wordlessly encouraging her to continue. “I really care about you—” Those words were insufficient, almost insulting, to describe the complicated mix of interest, desire and wariness she felt about Rey. “But I don’t think I’m ready to—”
He put a warm finger over her lips, and she thought he looked uncertain too. “Got it.”
Part of her recognized she was crazy to not jump him right now, because he was so perfect, but she listened to the wiser part that instructed her to turn the key and return to the interstate.
