Page 57 of Kitten

“You asked me if there was something I really wanted when I was younger, that I have now. And I said a boyfriend.”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t true. I wanted something else.”

“What’s that?”

“To never grow up.”

He smiled. “Condolences.”

“It’s not so bad. My fault for having such a big wish.”

“For what it’s worth, when I was a kid, all I wanted was a pet.” James gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. His arms wavered, and the car wobbled. I noticed we were going below the speed limit.

“Do you blame me?”

“I know you loved her a lot.”

“But you do blame me?”

“I don’t really think about it like that,” he said. “Blaming you wouldn’t change things. I’d rather just move on. Like how you blame yourself for leaving your mother, but that doesn’t make the situation any different. And the decision was right for you at the time.”

“Sometimes what looks right at the time turns out to be wrong in the future. Like in this instance, obviously.”

James shrugged. He gazed at the road through half-closed eyes. It was a complete change from the way he was at Holme, his breathing labored, his cheeks blotched with emotion. That James just might have said he blamed me.

“Isabelle said you’d do this.” I couldn’t help myself. “Refuse to blame me. Because you like looking after, like, vulnerable people.”

“Sure.”

“Is it true?” I asked. “Are you with me because you like to take care of me?”

“Are you with me because you like being taken care of?”

I said nothing.

“Can you give it a rest?” he said, his voice quiet. “We’re moving in together. That’s why I’m trying my best not to blame you.”

I looked down at my sneakers. There was still sand caked in the ridges of the soles, bits of broken seashell. We were far from the sea now.

“I’m sorry.”

James switched his driving hand.

“I should’ve let you take her back to the city or gone back with you. But you’re right, I was being selfish. Maybe it was Holme, maybe it was just me, but I loved her, I wanted to be with her.” I spoke quickly, believing myself to be on the verge of a breakthrough. “I’ve never felt that way before—”

James gave a dry laugh. I stopped myself. “Sorry,” he said. “You can see why I’m thrown.”

I paused. James kept his eyes on the road. I had nothing to say, confronted with the now-obvious truth that I gave Silver a more honest love than I’d ever given James, and he knew it. There was a loud and sustained honk. Three cars overtook us in rapid succession. The speed dial had dropped to thirty miles, but James didn’t notice.

“James,” I said, and then we were going twenty-five, then twenty. The honking magnified. He remained frozen. “James,” I said again. As we slowed to a near stop, a steely instinct overtook me. I pressed hard on his right knee, jerking us into acceleration, and used my other hand to twist the wheel to the right. There were more honks, then the sudden motion of a dozen cars coming to a halt. We swung into the shoulder of the highway. James hit the brakes. The seatbelt burned my neck as I lurched forward. On instinct, I turned to check the backseat for Silver.

“Are you—” James’s voice was loud. “What the fuck areyou doing—” and I said, “James, you were about to stop in the middle of the highway,” and he began to breathe very quickly. I realized with a jolt that he was having some sort of panic attack, switched off the ignition, and reached for his hands. He let me hold them. He kept his eyes shut until his breathing calmed, and then he opened his door and stepped outside.

I joined him on the side of the road. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”