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What it felt like to be trapped against the seats.
And Miles…
The painful groans and blood.
An icy shiver slides through me before wrapping around my heart and squeezing until sucking air into my lungs becomes agonizing. I quickly shove those memories from my head and focus on my breathing.
One breath at a time.
In through my nose.
Hold for a beat.
Out through my mouth.
I concentrate on that until my chest loosens.
No amount of therapy has been able to help me move past that night. Or the aftermath that followed. The loss of my brother. How my parents went from being happy and chill to being overprotective and suffocating. I couldn’t move a muscle without Mom pouncing, wanting to make sure I was all right.
When my therapist asked to meet with both of us so she could help me open up better lines of communication and tell Mom in a safe space how I felt, along with the steps needed to become more independent, my mother yanked me out of therapy, saying that the woman was a quack and had no idea what she was talking about.
It took all of my senior year to convince them to let me go away to Western. Mom wanted me to attend a local university so I could live at home. There was no way I could do that and retain my sanity.
Moving out after graduating from the small, private school they switched me to after the accident had been scary but totally necessary. I’ve grown so much during the past two and a half years. And now that Viola is here and we’re living together, it’s even better.
As much as I hate to admit it, getting my license is the next logical step in my quest for independence.
Especially if I get a job. I can’t continue to bum rides forever.
I’m halfway to the bar when the loud rumble of an engine catches my attention. From the corner of my eye, an electric blue muscle car rolls up beside me. When it slows to a crawl, a shiver skates down my spine, and I turn my head, glancing at the occupant. That’s all it takes for my fight or flight instincts to kick in. Western is as safe a school as anywhere, but that doesn’t mean bad stuff doesn’t happen. It’s still light out. Although, if this interview lasts for more than thirty minutes, the sun will start to sink in the western sky. Maybe I’ll have to call Vi after all.
The glass disappears between us, and my gaze collides with bottle green eyes as my feet stumble to a halt. After our disastrous interaction this morning, I was hoping we wouldn’t run into each other for a while.
Or ever.
This is twice now in just one day.
I don’t like it.
His eyes lock on mine. I hate the way they see straight down to my soul. That only comes from knowing someone on a deep and intimate level.
“Need a lift?”
Laughter tumbles from my lips.
Is he legit crazy?
I could be naked and frostbitten in a snowstorm, and I still wouldn’t accept a ride from this guy.
“Nope.” I rip my attention away and continue walking.
Hopefully, that’s all it’ll take for him to get the hint and leave me alone.
The Mustang crawls alongside me. When my strides quicken, he matches my speed, keeping pace.
“Where are you going?”
“None of your damn business,” I snap.
