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I take in a deep breath. “That’s fine. And can you drop me off in Christchurch?”
She blinks as if she doesn’t hear me. Amber turns around in her seat. “What are you talking about?” she asks.
“I want to be dropped off in Christchurch. I think I’m going to do my own thing from now on. Maybe head down to Dunedin.”
Gemma is watching me more than she’s watching the road. I meet her eyes for one second and she nearly flinches when she sees I’m serious. She looks back to the road and I watch as her knuckles grow white against the steering wheel.
“Okay,” Gemma says in a small voice. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”
“Do you really want to talk about it?” I ask.
Amber is looking between the two of us, chewing nervously on a strand of hair.
“In private, sure,” Gemma says. “I’ll just pull over.”
“Nah,” I say with a wave of my hand. “There’s no point. Just drop me off at Christchurch please, beside an ATM. I’ll pay you and we’ll part ways.”
“Josh,” Amber says quietly. Her eyes are big and starting to water. “What happened? What did I do?”
It’s sweet that she thinks it’s something she did.
“You didn’t do anything,” Gemma says, and then she bites her lip, as if to prevent her from saying something else. I know what it is but she manages to choke back her pettiness. Gemma’s issues no longer have anything to do with Amber groping me, and they never even had anything to do with Nick. Gemma’s issues are all from her, and I just don’t have the fucking patience anymore to deal with it.
I feel my chest harden and I like it. I hope it stays. Is this what it’s like to be her, to have this power where nothing can hurt you?
“Amber, you’re awesome,” I tell her. “I just think it’s time for me to go.” There is so much more I want to elaborate on but I don’t want to air our dirty laundry. “The trip had to end sometime.”
“But you’ll be alone at Christmas,” she protests.
“It’s still better than being at home for Christmas, believe me.” I give her a placating smile. The poor thing seems to be taking this worse than Gemma, but that shouldn’t surprise me. “It’s all good, really. This is for the best. Might as well end on a high note.” Even though everything since that night at Key Summit has felt low.
Suddenly Gemma brings the bus down a small road that hugs the edge of a stream. It starts to wind up, and I’m about to warn her about Mr. Orange’s inability to handle the hill, when she pulls over to the side and shoves the bus into park. She shuts the engine off and then jumps out of the van.
For a moment I think she’s going to do something crazy again, like jump into the river, but she slides open the back door and climbs inside, grabbing my arm.
“Come with me,” she demands, pulling hard. She’s fucking strong when she really wants to be, and I’m actually halfway off the seat before I pull back.
“Why?”
“We need to talk,” she says.
“I really doubt it.”
She tugs harder but her eyes grow softer and I see a hint of that light again. She’s begging, pleading with them. She’s desperate. So I relent.
She leads me out of the bus and then slams the door shut. “We’ll be right back,” she yells at Amber and then leads me a few feet up the road. I pull out of her grasp but continue walking by her side.
“Jesus, kung fu grip much?”
When we’re far enough from the bus, she stops. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why do you think?”
She crosses her arms and looks away. “Just . . . don’t go. Please. Stay.”
I love that she’s saying this but I don’t believe it.
“Give me a reason to stay,” I tell her. “And I’ll stay.”
She bites her lip. “Because I’m a fun person?” she asks unsurely.
“You can be, when you’re not . . .”
“Being a bitch?” she supplies.
I shake my head. “I only use that word when I’m really fucking mad, and I’m not even mad anymore, Gemma. I’m just . . . I’m tired. I can’t figure you out for the life of me, and I don’t think you want me to try. Things are just so weird now and I think it’s best if I just go. You and Amber will be a lot happier without me.”
“We won’t be,” she says, and I hear the sincerity in her voice. I have to ignore it. “Will you be?”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “No,” I answer honestly. Because I don’t want to go, I just feel like I need to go. I need to move on and forget her and the big tangled mess I’ve gotten stuck in.
She grabs my hand and squeezes it tight. “Then please don’t go. I know I have issues and I’m trying to deal with them and it’s not fair that you’re caught in the middle.”
I step closer to her. “What are your issues?” I implore her.
She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. Everything.”
“Am I your issue?”
She shoots me a quick glance but doesn’t say anything.
I put my hand on her face, making her look at me again. “Am I your issue?”
“I . . . I don’t want to become attached to you,” she says, and I can see it took a lot of effort to admit it.
