“That’d be great, thanks.” She smiles.
I finish the last of my lemonade, and reach back into the car to place the glass on the passenger seat to keep it out of the way, taking a quick look around the inside of the car. The leather upholstery, for a car of its age, is in good condition, no sign of any major wear and tear. “Well, the interior is one thing we don’t need to touch, everything seems in great shape in here which is a bonus,” I comment.
When I turn back, Amy is wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, her chin trembling, tears cascading down her beautiful face. A quiet whimper escapes her, and without a moment’s hesitation, I kick into action. I close the distance between us and drop to my knees in front of her, taking her face in my hand and swiping at her tears with my thumb.
Something inside me pulls tight at seeing her cry. It takes me back to the night she lost her dad, how she wept in my arms all the way home. I hate seeing her like this, and I’d do anything to make it so she never has to cry again.
“What’s the matter, Ames? Why’re you upset?”
“I’m so sorry,” she croaks.
“You don’t have to apologise for crying.” I stroke a hand over her hair. “DidIdo something?”
She shakes her head. “No, no. It’s not you. It’s… It’s the song…”
I concentrate on the song playing.Good Vibrationsby The Beach Boys.
“It was my dad’s favourite,” she continues, “he used to sing it to me when I was little, trying to do all the high and low parts and failing miserably.” She laughs softly at the memory. “I never thought hearing it could hurt so much.” She pauses for a moment before a sob rips through her. “I miss him so much, Logan.”
“I know, baby,” I say, rising up on my knees and taking the back of her head, bringing her to my chest, her cheek resting just above my heart. Her arms go around me, clinging to me while I attempt to soothe her. All I want is to hold her, console her when she needs me. I want to take away all her tears, just so she doesn’t have to feel pain anymore.
"How does life just move on as if he never existed?"
"I don't know. The pain just gets easier to deal with over time. But hedidexist, and he still does. He lives on through you, your memories, your love for him... Love like that doesn't just go away."
She finds my eyes and smiles. That smile causes something inside of me to shift, and my heart skips a beat.
“I found out who killed my dad,” she says.
“What? Who?”
“My dad’s best friend and colleague, Graham… he was there that night. He told me it was some gang in the city, a gang run by a guy called Donovan or something.”
A wave of dread crashes over me.
Donovan.
Fuck.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
He killed Amy’s dad. Why is it that the world is so big and yet it seems so small?
Christ, what the hell do I say to that?
“Shit, Ames. Was he the one who killed him?”
“No. Apparently it was one of his guys.” She sniffs. “I keep seeing this image in my mind, of my dad surrounded with a gun to his head…” her voice wobbles, “he was all alone when he died… he must have been so scared.” She starts sobbing again and I bring her back into my body, clutching her tightly while stroking the back of her head, smoothing her hair with my hand.
“It’s okay, baby,” I soothe. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”
We stay like this for a couple of minutes before she pulls back, her red, puffy eyes finding mine and all I can do is stare back and drown in those tortured ocean blue eyes of hers. I can’t look away. I can see all the pain in her eyes and wish to god I could chase it all away.
I tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and before I realise I’m doing it, I’m leaning in. So is she. My lips are a hair’s breadth away from hers, and I watch as her eyes slowly drift closed. Our lips brush just as her mom calls for her from inside the house.
Amy jerks away, her eyes wide as she looks at me, her cheeks stained their usual colour of pink. “What Mom?” she calls back.
“Have you seen my phone?” her mom asks.
