“Yes,” he says flatly. “I’m on a secret mission. And I can’t talk about it. You can’t breathe a word about this to anyone when you get home.”
“Hilarious. What are you really doing?”
The car jerks yet again, and Oliver mutters something to himself.
I pinch my lips shut.
But I don’t make it a full mile before my mouth is running again. “I had to learn to drive a few years ago—I mean, learn how to do it without getting speeding tickets and parking terribly—and I’m pretty damn good at it now. And contrary to popular belief, I do know how to follow directions. If you wanted to, you know, let someone competent behind the wheel.”
“This is how spies drive.”
Did he—oh my god.
He did.
He made a joke.
And it was surprisingly funny.
I start to laugh, try to stop it, and choke on my own spit. So now I’m coughing like my lungs and I are battling out if they’re staying or going.
Oliver looks at me in the rearview mirror again. The car drives all over the lane again.
We have to be nearly to wherever he’s going, don’t we? He’ll run out of gas before too long.
Hedoesknow you have to fill a car with gas, right?
He’s heir to a gas station-slash-convenience store empire. Hehasto know you have to fill this car with gas.
I stifle a sigh, unbuckle myself, and lean close to him so he can hear me over the symphony performing an old Bro Code song.
“Oliver. In all seriousness—why are you running away?”
“I’m not running away.”
“No security, no driver, no assistants. News flash, Tighty-Whities. I might not be Daddy’s ideal daughter, and I might not be a genius, but Iamsmarter than all of you bigheaded moneybags give me credit for. I know a runaway when I see it. So what’s the sitch? You do this often? Get out to the wilderness before getting back to the office on Monday? Didn’t think you were the type, but then, I didn’t think you’d be the type to install free electric chargers at your gas stations all over the country either.”
It's a gift and a curse to be able to feel his shoulders tightening as I talk.
“Tighty-Whities?” he grits out.
“Saw you once when you stayed over at Margot’s place. Want me to keep talking? Or do you want to maybe contribute to this conversation so I can help you through what you’re going through? I’m a good listener, and since Daddy revoked my trust fund, I’ve learned how important it is to let people help you. I’ve gotten pretty good at solving problems too.”
He turns the volume up to max.
The car lurches, I get tossed sideways, and I finally force myself to acknowledge that I can’t fix thisright now.
So I strap myself back in and watch the night go by while listening to music that I won’t tell Oliver I like.
He’d probably change it.
And that makes me mad.
Because Oliver Cumberland, the man who hurt my sister and gave all signs that he was ready to do it again, shouldn’t have good taste in music.
Just like the man who hurt my sister shouldn’t be the best CEO that the Miles2Go convenience store chain has ever had.
He shouldn’t be the reason I’ve finally found a purpose in life.
