“Yeah, yeah,” she cuts me off with a wave and a sigh, her shoulders visibly drooping in resignation as I open the passenger door for her, and she only hesitates for another second before taking a deep breath and slipping inside.
Brave girl.
I circle to the driver’s side and take a long breath, trying to think of anything that might help. When I slide in next to her, she hasn’t even buckled her seat belt. Her eyes are closed, her knuckles white as she makes fists, pressing her glittery nails so hard into her palms, I’m sure it must hurt. She’s trying to keep control, but it’s a struggle, and I hate that I’m putting her through this.
“Would it help to sit in the back?”
She shakes her head without opening her eyes. “No,I can do this.”
I lean over, reaching across her to grab the seat belt. My fingers brush her arm as I click it into place, and she flinches, letting out a shaky breath, her eyes still closed.
“Hey,” I murmur over the quiet of the car. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”
She opens her eyes, then I can see it, the real fear, not only nerves.
“Sorry… it’s not that easy.”
“I can see that,” I reply, starting the engine and driving off. “I’m sorry. I’ll drive slow, okay?”
She nods, but her eyes are distant, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the dashboard, and I can tell she’s not here with me.
I need to pull her back.
“What helped yesterday?” I ask. “It looked like it got better after a while there.”
She takes a deep breath. “Music.”
I nod, reaching for the radio to start my playlist. The strumming of “Coal” by Dylan Gossett filters through the car. Her lips twitch almost imperceptibly, but it’s there, a tiny curve, a ghost of a smile.
Good. Maybe that’ll help her breathe easier.
Though still tense, her shoulders aren’t as drawn up anymore, and that flicker of calm washes over me too. It’s strange how music can cut through the noise of whatever chaos is running through your head and bring you back down.
“You’re into country?”
“Mmm.” I hum in confirmation, then add a confession, “I play the guitar.”
She glances at me, curiosity briefly overcoming her anxiety. “Hypnosis, music… what else can you do?”
I embrace that spark of intrigue again, latching onto it, hoping it’ll help her focus on something other than fear. “Want to get to know me?” I tease, half-expecting her to deflect as she always does.
“What if I do?” she shoots back with sass, but there’s a tremor there as she grips the leather seat on both sides of her.
The way her shoulders tense every time I accelerate and her fingers twitch whenever another car passes us, she’s holding on by a thread.
“I’d like to get to know you better, too,” I admit, more serious this time. “I enjoy cooking, baking, making music, spending time with family, staying home. You know,cozy shit.Being out and about is stressful for us. People never leave us alone.”
“Poor celebrity, millionaire baby.” Her shoulders relax even more as she mocks me, mocksus, and I catch the small smile forming on her lips. It’s progress.
“Levi already told you about our finances. Your guess isway off,” I tease back. That makes her giggle for real, but it cuts off abruptly as a sudden wail of a siren pierces the air.
She flinches hard as her hand moves to her wrist, and she fumbles with the bracelet there, her fingers skimming over the cool metal before she starts to rub it in slow, repetitive motions, each movement a whispered plea for control. It’s almost as if she’s trying to hypnotize herself.
Fuck this.
“Little Thief?” I say, my eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“Yes?” Her voice is barely there.
