The rush of fresh air hits my face before I realize I’ve made it outside, chilling my damp skin and making my breath catch.
I’m shaking by the time I climb into the cab.
I don’t belong anywhere.
My knees meet my chest, and I hug them. Hold them despite how bad my ribs hurt.
I never will.
He used to tell me that and for a long time, I didn’t believe him. I thought I just needed to get out, to find the right people. The right person. Someone that could stomach being around me.
But that person never came.
And I was reminded at every turn that they never will.
So, I buried everything that I am.
I’m just the lonely boy. The broken one.
“Hey, bub.”
It’s quiet, muffled.
“Stop calling me that,” I snap back and squeeze my knees tighter.
The slam of the door proceeds Tristen’s sigh.
There’s a heavy silence that falls over the cab. Thick. Tense.
“They didn’t mean anything by it.” I rub my forehead across my knees. “They’re good people, Em.”
He goes quiet, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say something else. But then the truck cranks over, making me jump. It idles, filling the space with a low rumble that vibrates the ache centered in my chest.
I drag in a breath, but it’s short. Tight.
He lied to them.
My forehead rolls over my knees.
He doesn’t know me.
“I’m not upset with them,” I murmur once the truck starts moving.
I don’t repeat it when he asks me to.
Instead, I lean into the handle and hope that we get rear-ended before we make it to the next stop. Tristen’s seatbelt will save him, he’ll be able to walk away, and he won’t have to worry himself about me ever again.
He doesn’t know anything about me anyway.
“They felt bad. Or maybe I look like the poor kid.” The crinkle of plastic accompanies Tristen’s words, and I scoot farther into the door to get away from it. “Holy shit, this looks like a road trip bag.”
When I don’t answer, he goes back to humming along to the radio, some sad song I’ve never heard before, and drums his thumbs on the steering wheel.
Meanwhile, I tilt my head to bury in the soft fabric of his hoodie, the scent of it filling my nose and making me want to be buried in it.
The piercing trill of his phone breaks my thoughts up and my fingers twitch.
“Hey, what’s up?”
