“Really?”
I caress the back of her hand once again. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Bianca.” She gives me a small smile and I return one of my own. “I’ll be here.”
“Anything else?” I ask, hoping she hasn’t been holding out on any questions. We’ve been sitting here for about an hour, and while we haven’t moved a single inch, I couldn’t care less. She asks about things I didn’t even think of when it comes to driving, and I nod when she goes on her little cute tangents.
“You’re giving me a look.” She rubs the steering wheel and I widen my eyes.
“What look?”
She sighs, waving me off. “This is stupid, I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” I move to encourage her before she keeps going. “I just want to be normal and not have to wait when Mom goes out. Sometimes, I wanna go for a ride, but I can’t do that because my stupid screwed-up brain doesn’t let me.”
My eyebrows crease as tears well in her eyes, but she blinks them back. I feel useless—I don’t know what to tell her so that she won’t believe she’s any of the things her brain tells her she is. “Bianca, you suffered something really traumatic, and I’ve always marveled how you still give the world your smile. Even as kids, I’d complain about such stupid crap, and you’d treat it like it was the most important thing.” She chuckles, and my heart warms as I see her little smile.I motion to the car. “This is a trigger, and that’s fine. I mean, look at what you’ve accomplished so far. You used to only ride in the back seat, and now you can be up front.That’s huge.” I have a feeling Bianca’s never really celebrated how much she’s progressed. It’s almost as if she believes they’re not wins because everyone else does it.
She turns to face me. Her alluring eyes lock with mine, and I place my hand on the console more confidently while smiling at her, hoping to do away with those nerves.
“If you’re not ready, it’s okay. That doesn’t mean you never will be, but I’m not gonna push if sitting there hurts you mentally,” I say, honest as can be. I can tell in the way her body sags that there’s something else she isn’t saying.
“What if I hurt you, though?” A tear slips down her face and she catches it. “I’m scared that I’ll lose control or ... I don’t know,” she whispers. I stop my internal overthinking and look at her.
“Bianca, I get it. That’s a very valid fear for every driver out there, and to be honest, it never goes away. But we’re not gonna be leaving the neighborhood. Baby steps, okay?” I’m hoping it reassures her as I try to ignore the racing of my heart at her being worried for me. “I know you’re scared. Hell,I’mscared. I’m scared I won’t teach you everything, but I’m willing to face it ... with you.” I hope she can see all the trust I’ve always had in her. Smiling, she finally puts her hand on the wheel and takes a deep breath. She puts the car in reverse, using the camera and looking over her shoulder, then shifts into drive. We’re off.
The car is moving slowly, but moving nonetheless. She speeds up slightly and a sense of joy for her washes over me. A stop sign is coming up and I hold on, waiting for the harsh brake we all do when we’re learning. The sign gets closer, and I watch her as she shakes slightly with her eyes open, but has seemed to miss the sign.
Maintaining composure, I try to talk calmly, as I know she’s really stressed. “Bianca, I know you’re scared, I do, but there’s a stop sign. Ineedyou to brake.” She whimpers, and I hate myself that I might’ve pushed her to do this when she doesn’t seem all thatready. She brakes harshly at the last minute and I take a deep breath, thanking heaven above there wasn’t anyone coming this way.
I give her a minute before I move the gear stick into park. She visibly exhales as she raises both her feet on the seat, putting her face between her knees.
“Hey.” She lifts her head. “I’m so proud of you. You did it,” I say, hoping she gains more of the excitement I saw briefly, but she scoffs.
“I left from the front of the house.”
“Technically, yes. I know it may not seem like a lot, but baby steps are better than no steps,” I reply.
“I guess,” she says softly.
“Come on, what do you say to a celebratory snack?” Her little frown morphs into a small grin, and my heart skips a beat.
“You know I can’t say no to food.”
We swap seats and I start our way to the nearest fast-food place. Getting to the drive-through, I roll my window down and order our usual from way back when. She looks at me, shocked, and I clear my throat as I can already feel the blush starting on my face. They hand over our order and I pull into a spot as she’s yet to say anything.
“I just realized I didn’t even ask if I got your order right.”
She stares at me for a solid five seconds. “It never changed, actually. This is perfect,” she says, almost in disbelief, and I nod, desperate to rid myself of this burning across my face.
“To your first time on the road,” I say, holding up my burger, and she touches hers to mine, rolling her eyes.
“You’re a dork,” she says.
“You loved it then, so I assumed you still might, five years later.” She freezes as I unintentionally bring up something we’ve both tiptoed around. “So, how did we feel today?”
“It was good, Liam,” she answers in a daze, not touching her food. My shoulders drop, realizing I must’ve put a damper on the whole thing.
“Bianca, look, I’m sorry.”
She looks up. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I forget sometimes, but five years is hard to completely ignore.” I take a bite, not wanting to answer, even knowing the truth in her statement. “Even if my fast-food order didn’t change, a lot has. And no matter how much we wanna sweep it under the rug ... How I felt during it won’t go away. As much as I want to freefall into this, there’s still this fear ...” My heart constricts at the word and my appetite wanes. “And with that comes everything else that I never associated with you, and never want to.” She looks down, but my eyes don’t leave her.
“Bianca—”
