Scolding myself, I slow, flick on my hazard lights, and open the window.
“God, Denny, I’m?—”
“If you say you’re sorry, I will throw something at you.”
“Please, do! I’m so sor?—”
“Go away, jackass,” she grates out, the words wobbly and watery.
Is she crying?!
My heart sinks. “It’s not safe out here.”
“Not safe in there either if you’re going to be a douche.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
Can she hear the agony in my voice? The raw truth?
“Well, you did. I’m hurt. Congrats.”
“It was…” Words fail me.
She pivots so she can glare at me.
“What was it? Please, tell me. I want to understand why you thought you could treat me like that?”
I have no answer that won’t make her shoot lasers from her eyes and explode me and my ride in one go.
“Fuck.” She covers her face with her hands. “It doesn’t matter, Zach. Nothing matters.”
“It does! If it didn’t matter, you’d be in here with me where it’s safe and you wouldn’t run the risk of getting mowed down.”
Like clockwork, a truck honks its horn behind us and she jumps in response.
“I’m going too slow, Denny.”
“Speed up then.”
“I’m not leaving you out there. Not when I’m the dumbass who… You shouldn’t be in an unsafe situation because I’m an idiot.”
The truck overtakes me when I brake and she turns again, facing me full-on, letting me see the tear tracks on hercheeks. The streetlights make them gleam in an ethereal way, painting her sorrow on her skin like a watercolor.
It’s not the first time Pecan or I have been a dick. She always puts up with our shit, just like we put up with hers.
But tears?
That’s when hope stirs in me.
I know it’s fucked up when she’s crying, but those tears have to mean something.
Maybe…
No.
Now isn’t the time.
“Please, get in. I won’t talk to you if you don’t want me to. You can stay mad. You can even lay claim to the TV remote and I won’t argue if you put on an art documentary. Just, please, get in, Denver.”
