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“I’m not a damsel.” Clara’s sweaty palms threatened her grip on the steering wheel. She wiped them one by one on the shorts of her overalls.
“Sure, you are. A young, unmarried woman of noble birth.”
Clara shook her head as they approached a stoplight. “Did you just quote Merriam-Webster?”
“My mom used to read us fairy tales when I was little. I looked up the words I didn’t know.”
A smile threatened the corners of Clara’s mouth until they reached a four-way intersection.
“Clara? Hey. Are you okay?
Her eyes began to water. She tried to tip her chin up without losing sight of the road.
Josh dug in the glove box until he’d removed a handful of tissues. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
“I’m
sure,” she said, with only a hint of a tremble in her voice.
When she didn’t reach for the Kleenex, Josh dabbed carefully at her eyes, stemming the leak.
“Thanks.” Clara’s cheeks heated. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I feel like I’m close to overcoming this.” She straightened her shoulder blades. “Like if I can just reach out far enough, I can brush victory with my fingertips. That probably sounds dumb, right?”
“No. I’m pretty sure you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Objectively.” His eyes warmed in the same way they had during dinner when he’d said she looked like trouble. She didn’t have time to worry about the meaning behind that look.
“My aunt’s going out on a limb for me and I want to show up for her, you know?”
“I know,” he said. “Hey, would it help if I sang? Ya know, something soothing.” He started in on the first few bars of “Walking on Sunshine.”
Josh had terrible pitch and he smacked his hand on the armrest in his attempt to emphasize a high note, but the gesture cut through some of Clara’s numbness.
I used to think maybe you loved me . . . now, baby, I’m sure. Her heart fluttered. “You’re a terrible singer.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” He cupped a hand over his ear. “Sing louder?”
Clara tapped the brakes too hard and winced.
Josh fell silent.
They’d reached the entrance to the freeway. Clara slowed the car at the metered on-ramp, even though she knew the green light meant go.
She brought the Corvette to a halt and the car behind her honked in protest.
Clara tried to focus on breathing. In and out. In and out. Each time a new horn blasted she took it like a kick to the temple. In and out. In and out.
Her hands shook on the steering wheel, vibrating so intensely the kickback reverberated in her shoulders.
“Jesus, Clara. This isn’t nerves. This is terror.” His voice wavered. “Let’s forget it,” he said gently. He coaxed her to pull onto the shoulder. “I’ll drive you wherever you need to go. Driving isn’t worth this.”
Clara’s teeth chattered despite the early summer heat as she set the Corvette to a crawl while other cars whistled past them. She caught Josh’s gaze from the corner of her eye. “I can do it.”
He nodded his head once, making his long curls bounce. “All right. Then talk to me.”
“What?” She shouldn’t be on the shoulder. Someone had probably already called the cops on her. Any minute now the guy in that truck would get out and get in her face.
“Focus on my voice,” Josh said. “It works on set when people get nervous. When they can’t get past the cameras and the lights.”
“This was a mistake.” Oliver’s screams started, playing on a loop along with the sounds of metal crumpling and tires screeching. She fought the impulse to plug her ears with her fingers.
