“What happened?” he asks again.
“I lost control,” Valentina interjects.
“You fucking reek of weed, V.”
She shrugs. "Tequila too, probably.” Valentina doesn’t fight him, doesn’t even bother defending herself.
It’s like she’s given up, and for a split second, I feel the need to defend her. I bite my tongue. This is what I wanted to happen.What I made happen.Even if she’s responsible for the drinking and illegal substance part.
Maybe I drove her to do those too.
“You need fucking help,” he whispers, his face a guarded mask.
She stares at him in shock, her mouth falling open as her hand unknowingly grips my shoulder. “Wha?—”
“Do you seriously not care? About yourself? About anyone else?”
“It was a dark, dead country road, McCrae. For fuck’s sake.”
“You have to know your actions are going to catch up with you.”
Her shock melts into fury. “That’s kinda the whole fucking point.”
Matching anger flickers across McCrae’s face. “What about everyone else? What happens to us if you just give up?”
She shrugs but doesn’t speak. I feel like I’m looking through a window at the conversation, only getting bits and pieces of a bigger picture I can’t yet see.
“What happens when you hurt an innocent person, Valentina? A little girl, riding home from her friend’s house with her mom?”
I feel the devastation ripple through her body before I see it play across her face. She blinks rapidly, as if to clear the haze from her mind. When she speaks, her voice is nothing more than a shattered whisper. “I didn’t realize?—”
“How could you not fucking realize?”
“Sometimes, I get so lonely, I forget I’m not the only person alive.”
The words break even my resolve, and I straighten, an action that seems to remind the two they’re not alone.
“I don’t think you should be talking about this tonight, not when you’re not in the right head space.” I don’t know why I say it.
McCrae shakes his head, clearly disgusted or disappointed, I can’t tell which, before sighing raggedly. “There’s nothing that can be done tonight anyway. It’s three in the fucking morning. You’re just lucky it’s on your own property, V. If this’d happened on the main road, you’d be going to fucking jail.”
She refuses to meet his eyes, her arm still slung over my shoulders. Valentina continues to lean against me, and I wonder if she’s forgotten she’s doing so.
“I want to go to bed,” she states.
“I’ll take her back to the house.” I offer.
“You’ve been drinking.” It’s an accusation, and I take less pleasure in my response than I originally anticipated.
“I’ve been drinking water all night.” Valentina instantly pulls her arm back, and I shiver at the loss of her touch.
“Fine. Get back to the house, and we’ll deal with this shit show tomorrow.”
I mockingly bow at McCrae before walking back to the truck, opening the passenger door for Valentina. She glares at me with clear betrayal for several moments before climbing in. She’s hesitant and silent, facing the window. I don’t bother making conversation.
The drive’s less than a minute, but the tension in the cab becomes suffocating almost instantly. We park, the tires squealing as I hit the brakes in front of the house, but before I can climb out, Valentina looks over at me, the heat of her gaze drawing my own.
“You seem like you want to ask me another question, Santos. I don’t have any tequila to hide behind this time.” Her words are soft, and even as rage pulses though my veins like the poison it is, I offer her a smile.
