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Obviously, Tyler told her a lot. If he fessed up about the redhead, then he might’ve told her the whole story, too.
So, is she fucking with me? Unless she’s really that far gone, no. I don’t think she is. She’s never been that good of an actor. I’ve been in somewhat of denial, but at this point, I’m coming to terms that Sam is really mental.
Regardless, if I find out Tyler told her everything, I’ll just have to be convincing and persuade the outcome. I don’t want it to go that far. I hope she doesn’t make me have to take it that far.
With a grunt, I reach over and flip the glove box open. Sam startles. I ignore her inching away from my hand, like it doesn’t bother me that she wants to be nowhere near my touch, and reach for my emergency pack.
Sam pushes her book under the seat and pulls her knees to her chest. I’ve noticed she does this when she’s nervous. “Since when do you smoke?” she asks, her voice raspy from shouting. If this whole thing wasn’t so fucked up, it’d sound sexy.
Packing the cigarettes on the wheel, I thump the box a few times. “I don’t. Not anymore.” She cocks an eyebrow. Badly. I almost laugh at her attempt. “I started up right after I left home, but I stopped not long after. I keep a pack around for emergencies.”
She drops her feet to the floorboard. “Can I have one?”
I shrug and flip out a cigarette, then nod toward the glove compartment. “There’s a lighter in there.”
She lights hers and coughs, fanning a hand in front of her face before she hands me the lighter. “Oh, God. That’s as bad as I remember.”
My lips stretch into a small smile against my will, and the weight pressing on my shoulders lessens. “Did Tyler ever find out I got you to smoke that time?”
I can feel her tense up. That cord between us snaps tight. “I don’t want to talk about him. Not right now.” She rolls down her window and flicks the ashes out.
Inhaling a deep drag, I roll down my own window and then blow out, watching the smoke get sucked out of the cab. I didn’t mean to bring him up, but fuck. He’s my brother. “That’s kind of hard, considering we’re doing this trip for him.”
She takes another drag and then stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray, apparently not feeling it anymore. Then she sinks into her seat. “I don’t know if I can forgive him.”
My gut twists. And I can’t believe I’m about to say this. “Omission is betrayal . . . to a certain extent. But he technically didn’t do anything. I think, considering everything, you should cut him some slack.” Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m talking about him or me.
She looks at me and bites down on her lip. I swear, if she keeps doing that, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. I adjust in my seat, shifting my suddenly alert dick. I’m trying hard not to have these thoughts of her.
“Yeah, well. I think it’s complete betrayal. He should have said something. He was the one who proposed to me.” She laughs darkly. “He didn’t even have a ring, but I didn’t care. That stuff wasn’t important to me. And I wasn’t sure, either. I had doubts. But I would’ve talked to him before I slept with someone else.” She holds up a finger. “And don’t try to play that ‘he’s a guy’ card. It’s bullshit. I’m sick of the fucking double standard.”
“Agreed,” I say. “I’m not arguing the facts here. Not going to debate right and wrong. I’m just saying, he’s not here to tell you his side of the story.” I cast her a sympathetic, tight-lipped smile. “He’s not really here.”
“Okay,” she says, and I brace myself for an argument, anyway. But she floors me when she says, “You were there, right? You tell it.”
Christ.
SAM
Driving through the city of Memphis feels longer than it actually took to get here. Holden wanted to take the scenic route, but after stopping and going at about ten lights, he cursed and pulled a U-turn, jumping back onto the highway to get to our designated location.
Buildings and concrete and lights, even in the daytime, are everywhere. After riding for so long with nothing around for miles but fields and trees, it’s almost a shock to my system. The park on our left, full of green and people, ends, and the Mississippi River comes into view. Yawning and endless. I can see a bridge stretching over the glassy water top, and I can’t wait to view it at night, lit up and reflecting off the river.
Holden didn’t have much to say on Tyler’s “supposed” betrayal. He told the same story again, like he’s rehashed it a million time
s. And, I guess he has. I feel awful making him recall the events of that night. I know how painful it is for him. And when he repeated, again, that Tyler went home in a cab (no redhead with him), I let it drop. I loved Shannon like a second mother, and Holden shouldn’t have to relive that night. Not now. Not because of some fight between me and Tyler.
I feel scraped raw, empty, and too tired to think. I don’t want to think.
“This is definitely one of my favorite stops so far,” I say. My voice feels flat as I stretch my neck to see the top of a building.
Holden chuckles. “We’ve only had two.”
I pretend not to hear him. I’m sure he doesn’t count the Oak Picnic as an important stop on our trip, but before my world fell apart, it was for me. I feel ridiculous, like I’m fourteen and making up stuff in my head, running down the path on my way to see him, just to be reminded how very ridiculous I am.
And what’s more? I’m angry. Angry over the dumb flutters in my chest when our hands touch as we’re reaching for the stereo knob at the same time. Angry that my stomach tumbles when his blue eyes seem to see me. Really see me. Like how they did a long time ago.
Angrier, still, that I’m feeling and thinking like this at all. It’s only been five months since I lost Tyler. And, he’s not even gone. Not really. Not yet. Despite the past two hours, and the heartache kicking me in the soul, I still love him. And miss him. I miss what he was before he became this . . . whatever he is now.
