Reason the first: we’ll get away from these Iron Wraiths, and I can breathe easy again knowing that Helen isn’t about to be snatched up.
Reason the second: after last night, Helen and I are back to being polite strangers again.
“Hand it over,” I say, gesturing to her bag. “I’ll put it in the trunk.”
“Thank you,” Helen says, not quite meeting my gaze.
“No problem.” And that’s basically the total sum of our morning conversation.
Yesterday it didn’t bother me so much. We are strangers, technically, so it makes sense there’d be a little weirdness between us. But last night felt…I dunno. Different. Just watching old movies in a hotel room, Helen with her damp hair and pajamas, giving me that big old smile. It felt—right? I know that’s corny, but it was the closest I’ve felt to someone in a long time.
Then I had to go and ruin it with my big mouth. Honestly, I don’t even know where most of that nonsense about good and bad women, Mr. Right and Mr. Wrong, was coming from. I guess it always kind of bothered me in those romance movies I’d watch with Vera how it was always so obvious who the Right Guy was supposed to be. Real life isn’t like that. Even the Right Guy might be grouchy when he’s hungry, or wear mismatching socks on laundry day, or be just a general pain in the ass at times. But I see what Helen was saying about the good women and the bad women in the film noirs. I get how that might be frustrating, especially after coming out of a vocation where there was probably a lot of pressure on her to be “good” and a lot of shame about doing anything that was “bad.” I wish I would have told her that last night, instead of trying to pick a fight. Digging in my heels. Trying to prove I was right.
And then…I had to make an even bigger ass out of myself by telling her about the room. Although, I guess I’d already established myself as the world’s biggest asshole when I decided to not even ask her about sharing. I know she’s a former nun and everything, but she’s also a woman in her thirties, living on her own in Chicago. It’s not like I found her in a meadow where she’d been raised by fairies, or something. I’m sure she knows how to take care of herself. It was just, the thought of something bad happening to her because I’d dragged her into this whole mess… But that wasn’t my choice to make.
So even though I’m eager to get as far away from the Road View Inn as I can, I stop Helen before she can get in Kitty’s passenger-side door. “Hold up.” I toss her the keys, then gesture to the driver’s side, holding open the door for her. “I thought you could start us off, if you’re up for it.”
Helen blinks, then grins at me, her first real smile of the day. “Really?”
She hurries over as if afraid I’ll change my mind. Honestly, I almost do as I watch her climb in and adjust the seat. Damn. I’d found just the perfect setting… But no, it’s fine. I found it once, I’ll find it again. “Just go easy on the gas pedal. She’s a light touch. And if she starts shaking, you have to turn down the AC and let her have a little break.”
Helen squints up at me, shielding her eyes from the light. “It’s going to be all right, Thad. I almost never crash when I drive.”
My heart misses a beat in the moment it takes me to realize she’s joking, grinning at me like the cat who got the cream. “Think you’re clever, huh?” I grouse, shutting her in before rounding the car to join her on the other side.
Despite herhilariousjokes, I can tell Helen is doing her best to be careful as she navigates onto the highway. That’s the power of Kitty. She demands respect. Still, I can’t help myself from gripping on to the passenger-side door as Helen approaches another car to pass. “She’s wider than you think. Make sure to give her lots of space.”
Helen rolls her eyes. “Is this you showing that you trust me? It’s hard to tell.”
We pass the other car without issue and I breathe easier again once we’re in the slow lane. “I do trust you. You think I let just anyone drive Kitty?” I consider it. “Actually, you might be the first person I’ve let behind the wheel, come to think of it.”
Helen looks over at me in astonishment—for a little longer than I like, but I resist the urge to tell her to put her eyes back on the road. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I got Kitty after the breakup with Vera, and I haven’t seen my brothers or my dad in all that time. My mom doesn’t drive, and even if she did, I’d never trust her with my baby. I wasn’t exaggerating before when I said I haven’t felt close to anyone in a long time.
We drive in silence for a moment. I clear my throat. “What do you say, a show of trust for a show of trust. You wanna finally tell me where we’re going?”
Helen gives me a sidelong, faux-suspicious glare. “You aren’t going to leave me in a parking lot somewhere, are you?”
Maybe at one point I would have tried that, but that was before our run-in with those bikers at the hotel. I know shecouldtake care of herself if she needed to, but I also know I don’t especially want to see her try. She shouldn’t even be on the same planet as guys like that. She should live in…Oz, or someplace like that. But without the wicked witches. Only the nice, bright, happy parts.
I must be taking too long to answer, because Helen frowns at me, no longer totally joking. “Areyou?”
“No.” I laugh, and hold up my hand. “Hand to God, I won’t leave you anywhere.”
She deliberates another moment longer before finally, sighing, she tells me: “New Orleans.”
Mentally I run through the route in my mind. “Does that mean we’ll be passing through Mobile?”
Helen shoots me a quick, worried look. “Shoot. I guess we probably will, if it’s on the 65.”
I grimace. “It is.” Seeing the concern on her face, I do my best to wave it off. “It’s fine. It’s a big city.” Somehow it feels like my dad and Vera will both know if I’m anywhere within a hundred-mile radius, but I know that’s ridiculous. Trying to put Helen at ease, I change the subject. “So how’d you know to check your aunt’s credit card bill to look for Dean?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. But I saw the bill out, with a bunch of charges circled and added up. I figured either someone stole Aunt Linda’s card information, or, more likely…”
“Not bad,” I tell her, begrudgingly impressed.
She shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but I can tell she’s pleased with herself for having figured it out. And she should be. She isn’t the only one looking for Dean, not by a long shot. “I took photos of the bill, if you want to look at them. I figure there might be other charges on there besides the hotel—places that he’s been going—that we can look into once we’re there.”
