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She put the car in drive and pressed the gas. They drove through the parking lot to the stop sign, and she hit the brake hard, jolting them again. She stayed there, and he grew impatient, wondering why she wasn’t going anywhere. “If there’s nothing coming, you can go.”
She sighed. “And where am I going, Carmine?”
“Oh, that way,” he said, pointing left.
She looked both ways before turning out onto the road, and Carmine wondered why she hadn’t signaled until he realized he forgot to explain that part. She got into her lane, her hands trembling against the steering wheel. They neared a yellow light, and he expected her to brake. Instead, she slammed the gas and ran straight through it after it turned red.
“You ran a fucking red light, Haven! Red means stop!”
She cut her eyes at him. “But you said I should hit the gas when it was yellow.”
“Yeah, if you can make it through, which you couldn’t.”
“How was I supposed to know?”
He had no answer. How was she supposed to know when he hadn’t told her? He felt bad for snapping and glanced through the windshield in enough time to see her heading for a mailbox. “Oh, fuck!”
He grabbed the steering wheel and turned it sharply, the side mirror clipping the mailbox. Haven slammed the brakes, the car skidding to a stop on the side of the road.
He let go of the wheel. “Let’s see if we can try this again. I’ll shut up and quit distracting you, and you just pay attention to the road.”
He was going about it wrong, but he didn’t know how to teach something that came naturally to him. He grabbed his seatbelt and put it on, waving his hand and silently telling her to go.
Haven pulled back into the lane and hadn’t driven more than a hundred feet when she came to a yield sign. It struck him that he hadn’t told her what it meant, but he was too late. She blew right through it without slowing down.
Tires screeched, and Haven screamed as she slammed the brakes in a panic, the wrong thing to do if she cut off a car. He told her to hit the gas again, and she clutched the steering wheel tightly as her eyes welled up with tears.
“Pull into the parking lot to the right,” he said as they neared the grocery store. Haven turned, and the car skidded to a crooked stop across some parking spots. A tear slid down Haven’s cheek. Carmine undid his seatbelt and pulled her into his arms. “I made that a lot harder than it should’ve been. I think someone else would be better at teaching you this.”
“Why do I have to learn?”
“So you can get around on your own,” he said. “Besides, it’s a nice skill to have, and one you’ll appreciate when we start over.”
She pulled from his embrace, a curious expression on her face. “Start over?”
“Yes, a clean slate. No matter what it takes.”
“You really think . . . ?”
“I know.”
“Then I don’t want anyone else to teach me to drive. I want it to be you.”
He chuckled. “Your short-term memory must be fucked if you forgot about the disaster of a teaching job I just did.”
“We’re learning everything together, remember? Driving should be no different.”
“Okay, then,” he conceded. “Let’s try one more time. First and foremost, when you come to a yellow light, slow the fuck down and stop.”
27
Haven stood in the kitchen, surveying the refrigerator as she contemplated what to cook. Dr. DeMarco’s words infiltrated her thoughts, echoing like a song on repeat. She wanted a life with Carmine, but they would need to find a way that didn’t involve running. Was that possible? She wasn’t sure. But against her better judgment, she desperately hoped so.
Haven yelped when an arm slipped around her waist, so lost in thought she hadn’t heard Carmine approach. “Let’s get drunk tonight, tesoro.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s Friday? Does one need a reason to get drunk? I promise to be a perfect gentleman.” He leaned down, nipping at the nape of her neck with his teeth. “Well, maybe not a perfect gentleman.”
