ChapterSixty
Stevie
My heart is pounding against my rib cage so fast it feels like it’s gonna burst through my body and escape. Wiping sweaty palms down the front of my jean shorts, I attempt to summon courage from some long-forgotten place as I survey the old Land Rover like it’s a pit of writhing snakes Beck is asking me to step into. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“You are stronger than you realize.” Beck’s confident expression contradicts the tremors shaking my body from my head to my toes. He stands poised between the open door and the driver’s seat, watching various emotions flit over my sun-kissed skin.
We have been here one week already, and I wish I could slow down time. It’s been action-packed, and we’ve visited the town, the beach, the harbor, and the mountains and explored the main parts of the farm. One afternoon was spent gorging ourselves on the decadent chocolate from Leona’s flagship chocolate shop, and another was spent with Margot in her garden while Beck helped Alain repair some broken fences.
We either go out for dinner in the town, eat with his grandparents at the farmhouse, or we take turns cooking at Beck’s gorgeous stone cottage. Traditionally, lunch is the biggest meal of the day in France, but I can’t eat a lot of food in the middle of the day, especially when it’s so hot, so we generally reserve our main meal for nighttime.
“Why don’t you try sitting behind the wheel?” he suggests, pushing off the car and walking toward me. “You don’t have to drive. Just get behind the wheel and see how you feel? Then we can hang out by the pool all afternoon relaxing.”
“I’m being a pussy, aren’t I?” I murmur, still eyeing the car like it’s personally affronted me.
“Not a bit.” He brushes wispy strands of hair from my face, tucking them back into my messy topknot.
I’ve been wearing it up most of the day to keep it out of my way, and it’s cooler like this.
“What you are experiencing is natural,” he says. “You suffered something hugely traumatic. If you’re not ready, we’ll leave this. I just thought it might be good to try where there is no one around and you have privacy.”
“It is better than attempting to drive in traffic with some asshole honking his horn if I stall in the middle of the road,” I admit, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “And my therapist has been encouraging me to try.”
“You are much more relaxed in my passenger seat.” He reminds me of the progress I have made.
“I am,” I agree. “Thanks to you.” I don’t freak out getting into anybody’s car these days, but it’s vastly different than driving myself. Which kind of doesn’t make sense. I wasn’t driving at the time of the accident. It should be easier to be the one in control rather than the one in the passenger seat, but it’s the opposite way around. When I mentioned this to my therapist, she said the brain is a complex organ and there is nothing right or wrong about my reaction. It is what it is, and people react differently to all kinds of things. All I need to concentrate on is how it impacts me. It’s been fourteen months since the car crash that changed my life, and it’s time I overcame this.
I have to try sometime, and Beck is right. This is the perfect place to get back in the saddle. I lift my head and thrust my shoulders back. “I’m going to do it.”
Pride races across his face as I stride to the car and climb into the driver’s seat. My hands are shaking as I place them on the wheel and slowly inhale and exhale. Beck throws the bag with our towels and sunscreen in the back seat and hops up beside me. “Take your time. There is no rush. Let yourself get used to the feeling of being in the driver’s seat.”
Reaching forward, I turn the key, and my pulse beats faster with the deep rumble of the engine. I gulp over the lump in my throat as my feet hit the pedals, and I put the car in gear.
“Take it nice and slow,” Beck advises as I let the handbrake down, and the SUV lurches forward.
Butterflies are playing havoc with my chest, and acid churns in my stomach as I drive along the bumpy road that leads toward the main house. Nausea swims up my throat, but I persevere.
“Well done,” Beck quietly says as I drive.
“It’s not like I’m rocketing into outer space,” I tease, loosening my neck from side to side as I keep my eyes trained on the empty road. “I’m only driving.”
“It’s a big deal, and you’re amazing. I’m in awe of you.”
I can tell he means that, and tears prick my eyes. “I couldn’t do this without your support. I couldn’t do any of it without you,” I say, accelerating a little.
It’s the truth, and sometimes it scares me how much I’ve come to depend on Beck always being there for me.
What happens when he meets the love of his life and I get pushed out?
What happens if Garrick wakes? Will he understand my friendship or feel threatened by it?
Pain spears me through the heart at the thought of not having Beck in my life. But I’m trying to live in the present. To not trade in what-ifs, so I force those thoughts from my mind and just focus on getting to the farmhouse in one piece.
Beck grabs me into a bear hug when I successfully park at the side of the house and kill the engine. I’m shaking all over, but I have the biggest smile on my face. “I did it.”
“I’m so proud of you, honey.” He clasps my face in his hands and presses a prolonged kiss to my brow.
My flesh tingles where his lips touch my skin, and I’m overheating.
