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I sigh. “Fuck.”
“So?”
I know Mike. Like a dog with a bone, this one.
“He’s my boss. Not sure for how much longer.”
“You don’t fuck where you eat, mate.” Mike grunts.
“I didn’t mean to.” My voice cracks as I acknowledge the hurt I’ve been ignoring the last six weeks.
My eyes blur, and my whole body shakes.
“Pull over. There’s a stop up ahead.”
I flick the indicator and pull into the rest area. Thankfully, it’s only us.
Shoving the gears into park, I pull the handbrake and lean with my forehead on the steering wheel.
I can’t hold it in any longer. I weep. Mike doesn’t say a word. My weeping turns to ugly crying and then I fling the car door open and just miss the car as my breakfast sprays from my mouth.
When I turn to sit back in my seat, Mike’s holding a bottle of water.
“Here, rinse.”
I take the bottle and hop out, avoiding my spew. I rinse and spit, then rinse again. Then I make sure there’s no sick on me, the car, or my shoes before hoping back inside.
“Here, chew.”
He hands me some gum.
“You good to drive?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“The bastard better keep his distance if he knows what’s good for him.” He growls.
But his brotherly protectiveness only stirs anger inside of me. It’s my own fault I’m in this mess.
I click the gear into drive and release the handbrake.
“Though he sure must be something for you to react this way.”
I steer the SUV back onto the main road.
“What happened?” he asks.
“I don’t… I can’t, not yet,” I reply, swallowing the urge to yack again.
“I’m here when you are.” Then patting my arm, he adds, “It’s you and me against them all, sis. Us Parkers weren’t meant for happy ever afters.”
His words cut deep. But I know they’re true.
