I take it without argument, knowing exactly where this is going.
He wants to talk.
Once he takes a sip, he says, “Talk to me about the accident. Slowly.” He tilts his head, loose strands of hair falling to the side. “And don’t worry about what I think. I don’t matter.”
I take a drink of my own coffee and sigh through my nose.
“It happened last year, around Christmas. We’d just seen a movie, and I swore I’d had only one drink.” I focus on keeping my gaze on his. “It was bad. My memory of the entire day is jumbled and distorted. I don’t even remember getting in the car.”
When I pause, he prompts, “You said something about not driving, or not normally doing it?”
My chest tightens. As I feared it would, it’s leaning into my relationship with Michael. That’s going to take a lot more coffee and courage Idon’thave right now to talk about.
“I never liked driving in San Fran, so I rarely did it. I’m not entirely sure why I was going so fast. Apparently, I took us off the road right into a pole.”
“Fuck, Ayden.”
I wince and take another sip.
“At least I didn’t kill anyone?—”
“No. Thank whoever the fuck I have to thatyousurvived.” He exhales heavily, chest falling with the sigh. “Your ex?”
“He had a few scrapes and bruises but otherwise was uninjured. It’s possible I made a last-second move to take the brunt of the impact…” I don’t know if that’s true, but judging from my injuries and Dr. Yadav’s comments, only one side of the car took the hit. As sad as it sounds—and I won’t say it aloud—I wish I’d made a less selfish decision and turned the car so Michael would have been hurt instead…
“You don’t remember anything, then?”
I shake my head. “I get fragments here and there; nightmares sometimes, but it’s like a scrambled puzzle I can’t put together. Nothing makes sense—the perspective is always outside my body. I’ve seen myself being carriedintothe car, others stepping into it. I see myself in the passenger seat, out of control.” I rest my elbow on the table and press my eye into the ball of my palm. “I barely remember the damn movie, Keo. I fucked up so badly, I nearly lost my job. Drinking and driving? I was lucky I had help. Otherwise, having my license suspended for two years would have been the least of my problems.”
“Sunshine, look at me.”
Before lifting my gaze to meet his, I rub my face in frustration.
All I see there is understanding. There’s no hint of judgement, anger, or disappointment.
“It’s alright.”
I’m not entirely sure why, but those simple words fill me with warmth.
He smiles at me, his full five o’clock shadow doing nothing to hide the dimple on his right cheek. “What matters is that you’re alive.”
When he reaches across the table, I pause for a moment, then place my hand in his. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Thanks… for listening.”
His grip on me is just as possessive feeling as it was in bed earlier. “I’m pretty damn good at it, you know… listening. That being said, I expect you to tell me more, since we are closely approaching the thirty days.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Slow and steady.”
He hums. “Very slow. Turtle pace.”
“I was always a slow runner.”
I don’t bring attention to the fact his thumb is rubbing against the back of my hand.
“You should join me on my morning jogs.” He leans against his elbow while bringing his coffee to his lips. His murmur into the mug is too low for me to hear, but I think he says something about stamina.
“Hmm?”
