AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Cool. Glad to hear it.” He rubs his hands together and glances down at my luggage. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
We’re on the road in good time, and at first we’re silent though as the miles tick by, we venture into small talk and end up discussing Rupert Price and his illustrious career.
Tom taps the pads of his fingers against the steering wheel. “Is that why you were in LA, to see your dad?”
“Yes and no. I’ve spent most of my life shuttled between Toronto and LA, sometimes New York and Vancouver. This last trip was like any other.” I hold my breath, wondering what his next question will be.
There are so many things I’m still not ready to talk about. Who knows if I ever will with him.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I exhale my pent-up anxiety, happy to answer his question. “No. I’m an only child. You?”
“The youngest of four.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Finn’s the oldest, then my two sisters, Pippa and Claire.”
“Wow. Are you close?”
“Too close,” he grumbles, but his wide grin shows how much he adores them. “I knew I’d miss them but never realized how much until I spent over a year away.”
“Tell me more about your time in Africa. It sounds like it was a life-changing experience. What made you want to do it?”
“There wasn’t much else going on in my life when I decided to do it.”
He pauses and rakes a hand through his shaggy blond hair. I’m not sure what he’s thinking or how to get him talking. Eventually he looks at me through the rearview mirror before continuing.
“I wasn’t one to go with the status quo.” He shrugs and I’m not sure what he means. “I didn’t have what you’d call a career, or a home, or a partner. I was bored. I mean, my life’s good, but there really was nothing keeping me in Toronto. Well, except my family and I knew they'd still be there when I came back. They’d always be there for me.”
A sharp pang of longing lances my chest and I flinch, but he doesn’t notice, eyes on the road.
It’s strange how he can say something like that—his family would always be there for him—so matter of fact while for me, it seems like a near impossible feat. I’d have a better chance of going to Mars.
Tom focuses on the slowing traffic and changing lanes, and I pick through all he’s said, all interesting, and struggle to raise any of those things without it causing a sad comparison to my life.
“You didn’t have a career?” I don’t either but I find it puzzling since he’s working for ACE. What does he consider this job to be? “How old are you?”
“Why, Ms. Price, that’s rather nosy and rude of you, isn’t it?” He grins. “A lady doesn’t ask such personal questions.”
I roll my eyes. “Come on. That isn’t rude. I’m twenty-four. Your turn.”
“Twenty-seven, and yes, I’m unconventional no matter how much my father wanted me to get a good job and settle down. After university, I floated from job to job, doing what I liked until I no longer did, then I’d find something else. And I suppose, in hindsight, that eventually got old. Then Paige, my sister’s friend—she founded Project Miranda—needed volunteers, and I figured why not? I had a chance to do something with…purpose.”
His final word lingers, crackling between us with so much meaning. I so want the same thing. I need to hear more. “And? Did you like it? Did you find a purpose?”
He chuckles, but there’s no soul or heart to it. “Yes and no. Like I said, I questioned my sanity at first, especially when it was grueling, but I loved how I could see the impact of our work. But then it got to a point where I wanted to come home and replicate that sense of accomplishment.”
Every time he pauses, I wonder what’s tripping him up, but I’m also conscious of not wanting to be rude. I’ve already been enough of that. Moreover, I understand how hard it can be to say how you feel or share your wounds.
Despite the fact I dumped my emotional baggage on him this morning, there are still things I don’t want to talk about. Things too hard to give voice to that I’d hate it if someone pushed me to do so.
Even still, I can’t keep quiet. “And what about this job?”
“This isn’t a career. My best friend owns ACE. I’m helping him out, and I guess, in a way, he’s helping me too. I need something to do while I figure out what comes next.”
“Ah, I see.” I can’t resist playing on a line from my mother’s favorite band, U2. “So, Africa was worthwhile, but you still haven’t found what you’re looking for?”
He laughs. “I suppose I could see myself working in Africa long-term.”
I lean forward, a bit surprised. This revelation sparks a nervous energy though I don’t know why. “You could?”
