“What’s wrong? Are you and Leo both alright?” He speaks in a breathless rush, panic setting in.
“We’re fine, but there’s a tree down on the road, and I know it sounds pathetic, but I hate driving in the dark, and the sun is about to set, and I’m terrified I’m going to freak out and crash. I couldn’t forgive myself if I got into anaccident with Leo in the car, and–and–shit, I don’t know. I’m Leo’s nanny, and I should be able to drive him around at night, but I can’t and—
“Flo.” Evan’s voice is soft. “Flo, listen to me. Calm down for me and take a deep breath.”
I do as he says, filling my lungs.
“Where are you both?”
“On the back road leading to your land. About ten minutes out.” My heart is beating too fast. I swear it’s going to fall out of my ass.
“Near the lake?”
“Yeah.”
I hear shuffling. “Alright, I’ll leave now, so I’ll be there soon, okay?”
“See you soon.” I cut the call and slip back into the front seat, dropping my head down onto the steering wheel.
Who’s so scared to drive at night that they have to call the dad of the kid they nanny to come and pick them up? Shame fills me, wriggling around, feeling like a parasite in my blood.
Internally, I’m so hard on myself. I know it’s toxic, and I’d be the first person to tell a friend to stop it if I saw them doing the same, but for some reason, when it comes to myself, I let my insecurities run riot from time to time.
Driving in the dark—it’s something I want to do, but I just can’t. I still remember being there when my mom received the call from the hospital saying that Megan had been involved in an accident. I was fifteen and was aboutto learn to drive myself. My sister spent a week in hospital with broken ribs, internal bleeding, and a concussion.
It had been raining that night, and Megan admitted she’d been driving too fast over a bumpy road, which was the reason she’d lost control and wrapped herself around a tree, but I just can’t seem to shake the fear that the same could happen to me, no matter how careful I am. And perhaps I won’t be as lucky as Megan had been.
Why am I spiralling? Flo McKenna doesn’t spiral.
Evan reaches us quickly, and he pulls up beside us like a madman, eyes darting to a sleeping Leo in the back of my car while he strides to me. His jaw works as his eyes work down the entire length of my body, checking me over, and he asks, “What’s going on, Flo?” as he tilts his head to the side.
I flick my hand to the tree parts that are currently being lugged onto either side of the road, clearing the path. Cars begin to move, and Evan waves for the person behind us to go around as they stare at us in confusion.
“I can’t drive in the dark.” I prepare for a laugh or an eye roll, but it never comes. Instead, Evan dips his chin in a nod, furrows his brows with concern, and pulls my quivering form to his chest. His hands smooth over my back, rubbing comforting circles.
“Relax. You don’t have to. Do you feel okay?” Evan pulls back, eyes darting to my CGM.
“My blood sugar is fine. I just totally freaked out.”
“You’re okay,” he reassures me, bending down a little so he can look me in the eyes. “I’ll drive you back, and then I’ll come and get your car.”
I arch an eyebrow. That means he’d have to walk from his house to here, which would probably take him at least an hour, even if he walked quickly. “Absolutely not.”
“I didn’t ask for your permission, trouble. Come on, get in the car.” He opens the passenger side door for me before getting Leo.
The drive back to Evan’s is quiet and relaxing, and I even close my eyes for a brief moment, letting the sound of the tyres slowly rolling over the path soothe me.
Sitting in the passenger seat at night feels different to the thought of driving. My stomach doesn’t twist in the most harrowing way, thinking about how I have a hunk of metal that relies on my skills at my fingertips.
When we reach the house, Evan carries Leo inside and takes him up to bed. I stand by the window, peering out at my cabin. Nobody has touched it since the storm—after Evan and I collected my things— and I expect the whole thing to be flooded since the tape on the roof didnothold up.
After Evan fixes himself what I assume is a coffee, he exits the kitchen with a mug for me in his other hand. “A green tea is close enough to a matcha latte without the caffeine, right?”
“Thanks.” I cock my head at the liquid in his own mug—green and watery like mine, instead of dark. “No coffee?”
“You keep telling me I need to cut down, and I don’t want to face your wrath tonight.”
My fingers curl around the steaming mug as I chuckle, the burning sensation distracting from how good Evan looks in his red backwards cap, white T-shirt, flannel, and jeans.
