Page 182 of The Way the Heart Breaks: Jade’s Story

“Hey, pretty girl, catch.” Tommy tosses me something, and I catch his keys.

I look at them. “What are these for?”

“I asked your dad if I could do something cool with you tomorrow, and he said I haven't held up the end of the deal. So, I’m thinking I have you drive yourself home in my car,” he lifts a shoulder.

“You want me to drive the Legend? I’m a truck girl, Tommy; I wouldn’t even know how to start it.”

Laughing, he walks toward the locker room. “Be right back.”

“Nope, nu uh, not freaking happening,” I sputter as I head toward his car, determined to get in the passenger seat. Looking down at the keys I continue. “No way in hell am I gonna look a fool driving that.”

My elbow gets grabbed, and I get pulled back.

I turn as Ry yells, “Watch it fucking idiot!”

“Did you just call me a fucking idiot?” I snap.

“No, not you, the carload of IC kids that almost hit you.”

“Huh?” I ask, looking toward the car speeding through the parking lot.

“You just wandering about like you always have Pooh Bear, thinking everything is your hundred-acre woods.”

“Fuck you, Ryan.”

“I think the words you're looking for are thank you Ryan. I just saved your ass.”

“Not really,” I snap as I walk around him and toward the car.

When I feel him behind me, I yell back. “What do you want?”

“You need to chill the fuck out, right now.”

I whirl on him, “I don’t need to do shit. You need to.”

I stop when he lifts his hand, and my house key is dangling on Jason’s old Camaro key chain he got from the State Fair, saying one day he’d own one. “You dropped your key.”

My face falls, and I feel my eyes getting wet.

“You wanna tell me what he did to make you act like this?” he shoves his clenched fists into his hoody pocket.

“Tommy?” I huff. “Tommy didn’t do anything except give me his keys and tell me I was driving his car.”

“And that had you stomping and sputtering, so deep in your head you almost got hit by a carful of dipshits?”

“What if I crash it?”

He walks over and leans back sitting his big ass on the hood of Tommy’s car. “That’s what insurance is for.”

“I don’t have insurance.” I cross my arms.

“The vehicle is insured, not the driver. You have your permit; it may be falling apart by now. Those things aren’t meant to be kept forever.”

I roll my eyes. “I drive Dad’s truck all the time now.”

“Sunday to church, the diner, then to grab supplies and back to Fern Lane isn’t all the time.”

“It’s enough.”