I snatch my bag from its place by the couch and before I can make it even two feet towards the front door, Alex’s deep voice cuts through the air. “I’ll drive you over.”
My spine locks like it’s responding to a command. Slowly, I pivot on my heel and shoot him a look, sharp enough to peel paint straight off the walls. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
He shrugs, maddeningly calm, one arm slung along the back of his chair. “Didn’t say you did. Just offering a ride since it’s dark and I have to head that direction into town anyway.”
I can feel the heat rising up my neck, hot and prickling. My fingers twitch against the worn leather strap of my bag. “No thanks. I’ll take the side-by-side.”
Leo clears his throat. “Let him take you, Em. The side-by-side’s transmission is shot and I haven’t had a chance to fix it yet.”
I snap my gaze at Leo.
Traitor.
“I’ll walk then,” I counter, desperate for an out. But Leo gives me a look, a mix of concern and exasperation, and I know I’m cornered.
“Over my dead body. I’m not letting you walk that far in the dark.”
“Can’tanyof you threetake me instead?” I ask, looking at each of my brothers in a desperate plea for help. They each exchange looks.
“He already offered, Em. Let the damn guy drive you,” Cam finally says.
I narrow my eyes at him and he simply shrugs like this is all perfectly reasonable.
“Fine,” I grind out, the word tasting like broken glass on my tongue. Stalking toward the front door without looking back, I purposefully drop the bag back on the ground so Alex is obligated to carry it. Any small inconvenience for him is a win in my book.
Behind me, the door creaks open, and I can hear boots shuffling after me.
His truck is parked at the end of the driveway, still as battered and stubborn as it used to be. It’s the same 1989 Dodge Ram he had ten years ago. The blue paint is chipped along the edges and there’s rust creeping under the wheel wells. The passenger side mirror is cracked and held together with electrical tape. It’s a miracle this thing is still running. It has to be some kind of road hazard at this point.
The second I swing the door open and climb inside, it hits me.
Leather, cedar, and something faintly smoky, like a lingering trace of a campfire that sticks to your clothes and hair, making it impossible to forget. It wraps around me before I can shove it back, somehow both annoying and comforting.
I breathe it in deep out of habit and the memories slam into me.
Late nights crammed into this exact passenger seat with fast food bags crinkling under my feet. Alex’s hand slung over the steering wheel, the music too loud, but his grin even louder. The drive out to the far side of the property late at night, where we’d lie in the truck bed, wrapped in blankets, staring at the endless stretch of stars above. Alex would point out constellations, making up ridiculous names for the ones he didn’t know, just to make me laugh. Sneaking out after midnight and convincing him to drive me down to the lake where we would sit on thetailgate and talk, and sometimes argue, about anything and everything. That one night when the sky cracked open with a summer storm and we stayed parked under a gas station awning while we waited for it to settle. The windows fogged up as Alex draped his jacket over my shoulders even after I’d pretended I wasn’t cold.
The way these old leather seats felt warm in the summer. How the scent mixed with his cologne, making it impossible to think of anything but him. How we’d drive aimlessly with the windows down and my feet up on the dash. Our laughter would get lost to the wind as he sped down empty backroads.
It's the same truck where he taught me how to drive stick while sitting in his lap. His big hands guided mine over the gear shift while he tried not to laugh at how badly I kept stalling. The same truck where we sat parked outside my house for hours, never quite ready to say goodbye.
The same truck that drove Alex, my three brothers, and me to my mom’s funeral, one rainy summer afternoon.
I shove the memories back down, somewhere deep where they can’t get loose and hurt me again.
Alex finally slides into the driver’s seat, the springs groaning under his weight. For a long, loaded beat, we sit there in silence as the engine hums low. The radio crackles static before he switches it off with a sharp exhale. The tension stretches as tight as a live wire.
“You don’t have to look like I’m driving you to your execution, Princess,” he says finally, as his knuckles flex on the steering wheel.
I snap my head toward him. “Don’t call me that.”
His jaw ticks. “You don’t like it anymore, huh?”
I roll my eyes in response. His lips part again like he has something else to add, but instead lets out a short, humorless laugh.
“Just take me to the house, Alex,” I mutter, barely looking athim. He simply nods and shifts gears, the truck roaring to life as we drive away.
I stare out the window as we bump along the dirt roads in silence. There’s nothing but us, the rolling countryside and a blanket of stars above. In another life, this is the perfect scenario. Where we were always meant to be. Together.
