“I may be your driver, Mr. Lorens, but I answer only to your father.”
The air punched out of my lungs and refused to be sucked back in. I needed to get out of this car right fucking now. I needed Matthew. I needed to see that he was okay. I needed to fix this. I couldn’t do this without Matthew. I couldn’t breathe. Everything was closing in. The car was too small. Too hot. My clothes were too tight.
“Stop,” I choked.
There was no response.
“Stop, now!”
Again, he ignored me.
Trembling fingers hooked under the cold metal of the door handle as I yanked it open. It swung wide, and a car driving beside us swerved suddenly as the horn blared. My other hand unfastened my seatbelt right as our car screeched to a stop.
I was out in the same second, and the ground was still rushing up to meet me as if I’d dived out while it was still moving.
Traffic beeped. Cars swerved. Wind from vehicles passing too close to me chilled me further as I kept moving, getting as far away from that car, and Jerry, as possible.
He was calling after me, but I didn’t care.
The world was spinning and I was unmoored.
I needed Matthew. I needed Benny.
As soon as I was on the footpath, I broke into a run, rushing toward the nearest buildings to get lost in the crowds.
My hands were still shaking as I pulled my phone from my pocket and pressed Matthew’s name.
“The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”
I hung up. Tried again.
“The number you have dialed—”
“The number you have—”
“The number—”
I wiped my blurry eyes and hit Benny’s name instead.
“Hey, baby. Miss me already?” he answered, and I sobbed.
“I need you to come get me.”
Benny hadn’t gotten to the gym yet, so it didn’t take him long to turn back in the direction he’d come from and find me.
Once I was in the safety of his car, I told him we needed to get to Matthew’s townhouse as quickly as possible. I knew where it was, even though I hadn’t been there in years.
We were there in minutes.
A huge truck was blocking the front of the small home. Benny mounted the curb in front of it, and once again I was jumping out of a car before it had completely stopped moving.
Matthew was standing between the truck and his home. I was so used to seeing him calm and collected, but he wasn’t calm now, he was upset. Distressed. And it was all my fault.
I crashed into him with a force that almost sent us both to the ground. He dropped the box he’d been holding to hold me instead. Books and papers, and a very familiar-looking paper airplane tumbled over the pavement. I sobbed into his shirt.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He held me tighter. “It’s not your fault, my boy.”
