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“I know that you have.”
He tossed the peas back on the dashboard. “She kissed me. I was the one that walked out.”
“You just need to explain what happened to Bobby. I can explain it to him. You can talk to Margaret and just tell her it was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” He shook his head, laughing. His bloody lip was splitting open against the pressure. “Bobby isn’t going to see this as a mistake.”
“Finn, if I explain to . . .”
“No.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. “’Cause you can’t fix this. I know you try to fix everything, but you can’t fix this.”
“I just want to help.”
“Start by helping yourself.”
His tone was dismissive, and it stopped me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. You’re just acting like you know the right thing for everyone when you don’t even know the right thing for yourself.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Really? Then why are you still thinking about marrying someone you don’t love?”
I gripped the steering wheel, my heart starting to race. “I love Ben.”
“Georgia, he has a kid you didn’t even know about.”
“So? You’re saying if I loved him I should have known?”
He shook his head. “I’m saying if you love him, why’d you run?”
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, hurt and angry. No one had said that to me, and his words—in a way I didn’t want to admit—penetrated.
So I didn’t focus when I turned onto Main Street. I forgot about the curb. I forgot about how, when you turned onto Main Street, the curb jutted out five feet, making room for the fire hydrant.
The fire hydrant that I hit. Muffler first. Jolting us, me into the steering wheel, Finn into the dashboard.
The water shot upward, spraying the front of Finn’s pickup, soaking the empty street, Finn’s bag of peas exploding all around him.
Finn held on to the dashboard, bracing himself. “Are you okay?” Finn said.
I reached up, touching my forehead, feeling for blood and nodding that I was fine.
Finn nodded, relieved that no one was hurt. Then, once he knew that, he wanted nothing more than to kill me himself.
He gripped the dashboard, the water coating the windshield, like a rainstorm.
A tornado.
“You really shouldn’t be behind the wheel!”
I shut the ignition and jumped out of the truck, stepping into the soaking spray of the fire hydrant, surveying the damage. Finn’s headlight was dented, his muffler tipped. I tried kicking it back into place, water in my eyes.
Finn screamed at me. “What are you doing? And where are the keys?” he said.
