Page 121 of Redline Baby

I stand. We walk outside together in silence. At the truck, I don’t immediately go to the driver’s side. I open Kit’s door first and let him climb in. I don’t ask what happened in the session. That belongs to him.

I get behind the wheel, start the truck, and put it in reverse.

“We’re making a stop.”

Kit looks through the windshield.

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

There’s a beat.

“That’s not ominous at all.”

“No,” I agree. “It isn’t.”

He giggles, and the sound warms my chest.

“Is it the good kind of surprise or the kind where you’ve decided I need more vegetables in my diet?”

“Can’t it be both?”

“No. Those are mutually exclusive categories, and I need you to respect that boundary.”

“Noted.”

He laughs properly at that, some of the residual tightness from the session finally easing from his shoulders. His knee goes still against the door.

“You’re not gonna tell me anything, are you?”

“I told you where we’re going. You. Will. See.”

I glance at him at the next red light.

“Patience is a virtue.”

“I have never once in my life been accused of having that virtue.”

“I’m aware. I’m hoping today’s the day you develop it.”

“Doubtful.”

But he settles back against the seat anyway. For the rest of the drive, he doesn’t push. He watches the road go by with something loose and curious in his posture, occasionally glancing over at me as though he might be able to read the answer from my face. He fails every time. The restaurant is twelve minutes from the therapist’s office.

I’ve barely turned into the lot when recognition starts to dawn on Kit’s face, slowly and then all at once.

“Wait.”

He sits up straighter, craning to see the sign.

“Wait, is this—”

“Mhm.”

“This is the place from our first date.”

His whole face changes. “You brought me back here.”