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“I can drive,” he snapped. “And youcan’t, not like that, so shut the fuck up.”
I chuckled despite the fear having my heart beat like a drum in my chest. He could, no doubt about it. But it was his recklessness and lack of self-preservation that had me grip the door a little harder to keep from being tossed around. Each jerk as he flung the car around bends and slower traffic had me wincing.
“You okay?” he asked, and I wanted to laugh. Did I look okay? Did the fucking sweat coating my skin, and my pathetic attempts not to whimper seem okay to him? If it was the morphine wearing off, or if it was because of the ride from hell, I didn’t know, but the pain I didn’t feel before started to come back. I’d rather tell Johnny to drive off a cliff than go through that again. The pure agony still haunted me. I didn’t fear much, but I fucking feared the intensity of which it could hurt. The excruciating pain was nothing I wanted to experience again. It would fucking break me, if it hadn’t already.
Could I come out the same after this? Did I have a choice? Glancing at Johnny, I somehow found reassurance in his strength. He lived through hell, worse than I ever imagined, and he never told a soul. Over thirty years of silence, and unfathomable pain, both physical, but most of all mental, he turned out okay. As okay as it was to be expected.
“Marc?” Johnny’s voice was surprisingly soft. Gone were the snarky remarks and the bickering. Instead, his voice held serious concern. I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. I didn’t need this now. I needed to forget. To pretend this never happened.
“What happened?”
A harsh laugh escaped my lips. Of all the things he could ask…
“What are you running from? Is it about that girl?”
That girl… Kaylie’s face filled my mind. Her ocean blue eyes… her soft hands on my face when I was too weak to do anything else than lean into her touch. To seek comfort in the warmth of her skin.
“Hey?” Johnny nudged me, snapping me back to the speeding car.
“It’s a long story,” I muttered.
“We have time.”
I scoffed. We did not. How long before they found the knocked-out driver and sent the cops after us?
“We have to ditch the car.” I sighed, not looking forward to the hell of moving my ass out of this seat.
Johnny fell silent, the questions forgotten as he searched the road for a good place to pull over. “I’m calling a fucking Uber,” he muttered, and I wanted to protest. Before I could, he slammed down on the brake, sliding the ambulance to a halt and jumped out. I struggled to follow his example and made it to the ground with less graze and a string of curses.
Leaving the car, Johnny forced me to walk, to leave as much distance between us and the stolen vehicle as we could while we waited for the ride.
When more than twenty minutes passed, and the sun made the make-shift shirt cling to my skin, I was certain we’d get killed or arrested before getting off the street.
A small white car slid to a halt beside us. “Looking for Uber?” The guy inside shouted from a rolled-down window. His foreign accent was heavy.Indian.
“That’s us,” Johnny confirmed. “Get in,” he opened the door for me, and I couldn’t help but sneer at his sudden manners. Ducking into the car nearly floored me. The narrow space forced me to fold my body, bringing unwanted motion to the shoulder. Before I could stop it, a cry tore from my throat.
“Shit,” Johnny breathed. “Sure you can do this?”
I bit back another groan and collapsed against the narrow seat. Throwing my head back, I sucked in deep breaths to calm my rising pulse and settle the sudden nausea that made the risk of puking another struggle.
The seat shifted as Johnny slid into the car next to me, ordering the driver to step on it.
“Is he good?” The man hesitated before pulling out into the traffic. “Do you need to go to hospital?” He asked in broken English.
“NO!” Johnny and I cried in unison.
“Just fucking drive,” I added. “I’m fine.”
Johnny sneered, and I shot him an annoyed glare.
“Fine?” he mocked. “You’re dripping sweat and you can barely move.” He twisted in the seat, fixating me with his dark gaze. “Now tell me.”
Where could I even start?
“Marc!” he snapped. “For fuck’s sake.”
My eyes darted to the man, then I sighed. “What do you want to know?” I challenged, and Johnny fumbled with the words until finally blurting.
