The Mustang peeled out of the parking lot at a rate that probably wasn’t safe with this many people about, but then they were flying down the road so fast his heart was caught in his throat, and his ears were drowning in the roaring of the engine and rushing wind.
Jett glanced at Harrison, and the burning determination in those blue eyes sent his heart plummeting from his throat into his stomach.
Fuck, he was so aggressively hot—beard and all.
He knew how Killinger looked when he was clean-shaven, so it was easy to picture him that way. He couldn’t believe he was in a car with the man he’d had a crush on foryears.
Harrison pulled onto Highway 101, and Jett let out a breath. His anxiety was already decreasing, despite the awkwardness of the current situation.
He didn’t have a clue what destination Harrison had in mind.
“Thanks,” Jett said, half-yelling over the rush of wind from the open car window. “That was too much for me. I have a season under my belt, but talking to fans in big crowds is still daunting.”
Harrison said nothing. He was focused on the road, but his knuckles were clenched on the steering wheel. They were headed west towards Wolfville, where Jett had left his rental car parked, and Kentville, their hometown.
For nearly ten minutes, they drove in silence before Jett said, “So what have you been up to?”
The tires squealed as Harrison swerved off the highway and down the exit, dubiously through the roundabout, and into the gas station parking lot and Tim Horton’s combo.
“Oh, uh, did you want a coffee?” Jett asked, unsure of why they were stopping. “I could get us both one as a thank you for getting me out of there.”
Jett scrambled out of the car and shut the door, leaning into the open window. “You want a donut or something too? I’m starved.”
The Mustang nearly ran over his toes as it sped away without a single word from Harrison. Jett watched as it turned back on the highway and headed the way they’d come, disappearing around a corner and out of sight.
Jett stood for a moment longer, not caring that he’d been ditched or that he still had a few kilometres to go before reaching his car. He was simply shocked that he had met one of his idols, and had somehow fucked it up.
Harrison
Harrison slammed the front door to the house so hard he was sure he heard the glass crack. He didn’t care because he was panicking. Why? He couldn’t say, but he felt too restricted by his skin, like a part of him wanted to break free and run as far from this place as he could.
He whipped his shirt off over his head, ignoring the sound of his keys clattering to the floor. He stumbled down the hall toward the bathroom, tripping over his pants as he yanked them off, sending shoes, socks and underwear in every direction.
He tried his breathing exercises, the ones he had to use during rehab, so he could push past the pain and fear of taking his first steps after the accident. His vision was darkening, or maybe it was cloudy outside; he couldn’t tell. The sound of rain could be in his head or dripping against the skylights for all he knew.
He got to the ensuite bathroom, not bothering with the lights, and turned on the water as cold as it would go. He was back there again. The night that destroyed his life. That carousel that he couldn’t fucking get off as it spun around and around in his fucking head, repeating words that made no sense.
His back hit the shower floor, a space big enough to fit his large body easily. The icy water took his breath away, even with the exercises moving his lungs to keep them working. Everything was so cold. His leg was already screaming at him, but sometimes heneededthis.
Harrison opened his eyes, blinking water out of them as he stared into the darkness. If he stopped thinking about where he was or how many years had passed, he could trick his mind into believing he wasn’t there. He wasn’t lying on the shower floor in the dark, he was lying in the middle of the cold road during a storm, feeling the life drain from his body while he waited for the ambulance to save him.
But being in this dark place, feeling the pain and the cold and the terror as the memories seized him, also brought him closer to Luca.
It was on that road where he held his brother for the last time, and it was on that road where he heard Taylor’s voice for the last time.
He found solace in it. This was the only place he could go to return to that moment. It was the only place he could go to get back tothem.
How fucked up was that?
He remained looking at the ceiling, pretending that he was gazing at the sky. He stayed there until the pain was so constant he couldn’t feel it anymore. He stayed there until he went from feeling cold to numb.
And there it was, that wave of calm settling over him every time he did this. How could he feel any pain in his heart if he could no longer feel the flesh and bones that caged it?
There was a sound outside the bathroom, and suddenly he was torn from his inner peace and everything snapped back into focus.
“Harrison?”
Arlo.
