Margot said it had to do with being in a bad accident when he was in college, and since he didn’t have to drive anywhere, he didn’t.
I don’t remember every detail she ever told me about him—see again, he’s very boring—but I remember that one.
Possibly it’s the least boring thing about him. The perfect Oliver Cumberlands of the world don’t find themselves in car accidents.
Even when it’s not his fault.
Which it apparently wasn’t.
He was in the passenger seat.
Naturally.
He gets the SUV under control and manages to turn us back the right way before another car comes up the ramp.
I buckle myself in.
He can’t hold my phone—or me—forever, and I’m curious where this is going.
I’m also mildly worried about Oliver, even if I don’t want to be.
I spend a few minutes debating with myself about if I’m up for the challenge of talking some details out of him while he drives us past a Miles2Go gas station, a Cod Pieces fast food fish restaurant, and an Aurora Clover hotel, one of the lower-tier hotels in my family’s brand of chains. He could easily drop me there—especially if he had any idea how much I’d hate staying anywhere associated with my parents—but doesn’t. We leave the last bits of populated areas and drive deeper and deeper into the darkness on a gently winding country road.
This situation is so far past normal that I have my doubts he’ll tell me anything, but I have to try. “For my own peace of mind, can you assure me that you’re not running away from committing some kind of felony too?”
It’s too dark to tell for sure, but I think his shoulders hitch atrunning away.
Not. Good.
Neither is the feeling in the pit of my gut telling me I know what’s going on.
I sincerely hope I’m wrong.
He’s definitely not committing a felony.
See again…too boring.
I really just wanted to see how he’d react to therunning awaypart.
“How many times have you seen the inside of a jail cell?” he replies instead of answering me directly.
“Lost count.” Happens when you spend your college years unsure how to channel your general rage with the state of the world and go overboard with the protests since you have unlimited access to money to bail yourself out. Oh, how the times have changed. “Out of curiosity, haveyouever been arrested?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Just saying, kidnapping is an arrestable offense…”
“I’m not kidnapping you.” He glances in the rearview mirror at me, and I swear I hear him addyet. The car swerves a little, but he corrects it. “You did this to yourself.”
“Yep. Big mistake. That’s my life. A series of little mistakes that turn out to be big mistakes. Is someone extorting you?”
He mutters something that sounds likethat would be better than this, then turns up the stereo volume.
Every time he takes his hands off the wheel, the SUV veers before straightening out.
“If it’s extortion, I’m great at talking. Happy to help. You wouldn’t believe the number of situations I’ve talked myself out of.”
“It’s not extortion.”
