“Bummed you’re not on your bike,” she said when she saw it.
“You’re in a skirt,” he pointed out.
“So?”she asked.
Yeah, this girl, not conventional.
He beeped the locks, got her in, strolled around the grilland angled in himself.
He was about to start her up when Archie wrapped her fingersaround his wrist.
He turned her way.
“I need to know something, and I need to share something.I’ll go first.Fast.Band-Aid.Then you go.Same way.Then we’re done.For now.Okay?”
He had no idea what she was talking about.
He still said, “Okay.”
“Car wreck.”
That was when he knew.
“Murdered.”
She made a noise that was little, but came from deep, and hefelt it through every cell of his body.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Me too,” he replied.
They sat there, staring at each other in the cab of histruck, her fingers still wrapped around his wrist.
They tightened before she let him go.
He started up the truck and pulled out of his spot.
“We have parking in the back,” she shared.“It’s parallel,against the building, but it goes along the entirety of it and there are sixspots, so two guest spots.Though one of my tenants doesn’t have a car, hebikes everywhere.In other words, usually, there are three spots for thetaking.I have signs.Own that space.So I totally tow if anyone takes themthat shouldn’t be there.If there’s a spot open, you can park back there fromnow on.”
From now on.
“Gotcha,” he said.
He drove.
She rode.
They said nothing.
He had a million things to say and a million more to ask.
All he could think wascar wreck.
One day her mom was there.
The next, she wasn’t.
No warning.
