I frown. She hates driving in the dark, and she should have left three hours ago if she wanted to make it to Pine Harbour before dusk.
Me too, but I don’t mind night drives.
I put the truck in gear, but I don’t head for the highway. I’ll just swing by her house and offer to convoy drive, so she isn’t alone for that last hour.
I tell myself it’s just the nice thing to do. A holiday kindness. But I know the truth. I want to see her, even if it hurts.
I’ll always want to see Rory, even if it wrecks me everytime. I will do anything, take any opportunity, to cross paths with the only woman I’ve ever loved, even if she doesn’t love me back anymore.
I follow the location dot for her phone and find her in the small parking lot behind her building. It’s deserted this morning, everyone either at work or gone for the holidays already.
I park my truck right beside where she’s standing next to an older model hatchback I’ve never seen before, another slice of the life she’s building without me.
She turns, and her shoulders slump.
I step out and slam the door shut harder than I mean to. The wind bites at my face. It’s cold as hell and getting colder.
“Battery?” I ask, nodding toward the car.
She doesn’t meet my gaze as she sighs and tucks her hands into her coat pocket. “Won’t even turn over.”
“Pop the hood for me.” I open it, check the terminals. Corroded. Her battery’s toast. I already know it won’t jump, but I try anyway. She’s watching me and I need something to do with my hands, anything other than touching her.
The seconds tick by.
“Should I go and get a new battery?” she finally asks.
“It’s not just the battery.”
“But should I maybe try that?”
I roll my eyes.
“Yeah.” I jerk my head at the truck. “Get in.”
She snaps her little back super straight. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll take you to the store if you think a new battery is all you need.”
“I’m fine on my own.”
“Yeah? What are you going to do, callan Uber? And then install the battery yourself? If thatdidwork, you still wouldn’t get home until midnight.”
“Don’t yell at me,” she snaps.
Which is all the invitation I need to raise my voice. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you bought a car? Did you even get it properly checked out?”
“Because you’d act like this!”
“Like the fucking thing needs to be re-certified before you take it on the road? You’re fucking right I would.” I drag my hand over my face, then twist and put my entire attention on closing the hood of her car.
Carefully.
“I don’t need your help,” she says, her voice small.
“I know you don’t,” I say. I’m so fucking tired. “When are you coming back?”
“I’m just going up for a few days. I can get Josh to look at it once I’m there, though.”
