He’s a very frigid man. I imagine Tanya probably gave him hell regularly. I chuckle at the thought, then look over to Dani, who stares unblinkingly at the card.
I rest my hand on top of her wrist. The effect is almost instantaneous; her fingers twitch beneath my hold, and her eyes flutter, slowly at first and then rapidly until they’re focused on mine. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her eyes this close. They’re still red-rimmed, but they’re no less breathtaking. Pitch-black and iridescent. They’re bewitching in a terrifying way because one look from her could bring you to your knees or have you following her off the ship to your cold, watery death. Even knowing this, I’d still stare into her eyes every time.
“Do you want to ride with me over there?”
The question seems to remind her who she’s talking to and where we are because her neck snaps in both directions frantically. The tug of her wrist against my hand isn’t forceful. It’s almost gentle but enough to make me immediately relent.
“No, thank you,” she says, shaking her head vehemently. And with that, she walks away from me … again.
Chapter Two
Dani
HOW COULDIHAVE MISSED IT?
How could I not know she was sick?
The last time we talked on the phone, she didn’t sound good. Her breathing was labored and she kept coughing, but she assured me she was fine, that travel fatigue had caught up to her and she was recovering from an upper respiratory infection.
She lied.
Why wouldn’t she have told me what was going on? I could’ve been there. I could’ve helped in some way. Taken her to treatments. Something. Anything.
I could’ve said goodbye.
The last text I sent her haunts my dreams. I should’ve driven straight from the airport to her house so I could put eyes on her. Instead, I waited for her to initiate the conversation about her schedule.
I went on with life as if we had all the time in the world. What a sick joke.
A loud horn rips me from my thoughts just in time to swerve out of the way of an oncoming truck. The steering wheel fights against my overcorrection as I make a sharp right over a curb in front of a gas station off the Alameda.
Ignoring the stares from people at the pumps, I throw my car in park and rest my head against the top of the steering wheel.
You’re okay. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.
A cruel laugh falls from my lips. That mantra usually drags me back from the edge of ruin, but now it’s dangling me off the side of the cliff with every intention of letting me fall.
Everything’s not fucking fine.
There’s a rap against my window and I prepare myself to put on a show for whatever stranger is inserting themselves in my business.
I would’ve taken a nosy stranger over seeing Micah standing outside. I wonder how much of that he saw.
Let’s get this over with.
I roll my window down at his silent instruction and wait.
“Move over.”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Move over. I’m driving.”
I let out a deep breath that does absolutely nothing to calm my nerves and let my head fall against the headrest. “I don’t need you to drive. Were you following me?”
“We’re going to the same place. Was I supposed to find an alternate route because you don’t wanna be in the same vicinity as me for some reason?”
For some reason. Ha. He makes it seem like I have some petty grudge against him. I don’t have a grudge at all; I’m just the only one of us with any sense. It’s pointless for us to build any sort of connection when history has shown what happens every time we go down that road.
