“What’s the plan going into this meeting later?”
I blow out a frustrated huff. “No idea. I had a conversation with Lucinda Walsh from the SCC and submitted some forms to her. I’m hoping it’ll be enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“To buy me more time. She’s going to call me before the meeting and let me know where my request is at.”
“More time? Time to work on getting the bond severed before you even feel it or time for you to figure out how to forgive Jase and forgive yourself?”
“Forgive myself?” I ask, screwing my face up.
Dad gives me a knowing look. “Think you’re pissed off at him, yeah, but you’re even more pissed off at yourself right now, so you’re grippin’ that anger for dear life cause you don’t know how to fix this and you’re used to being able to fix stuff.”
I manage to keep myself upright, despite the desire to crumble into a pile of nothing.
“He’s miserable. You are, too,” Dad keeps at me. “Maybe you two oughta head for the woods with a tent or go stay at Tyson’s cabin and sort things out. Hear one another out.”
Shit. Jason’s walking into the kitchen now. He’s changed into jeans and a tight t-shirt, and the scent of him is even more potent, in a different way somehow.
Without touching me, he snatches my car keys from my hand and announces, “I’ll drive.”
And he does it without looking at me.
I stand speechless for a minute before I lift my travel mug and my feet take me to my car.
***
“How much of that did you hear?” I ask, getting into the car. He’s holding the door open for me.
He laughs bitterly and just before he slams it shut, he says, “All of it.”
He’s fiddling with the seat controls and the climate controls for a minute before we pull away, so I open my phone and see if there are any messages or missed calls. None.
I’m in no mood for awkward, loaded silences or for him to try to fill that awkwardness with words, so I scroll social media apps on my phone.
A minute or two later, I look up and realize we’re surrounded by trees.
We’ve left town.
“What the hell? I need to get to work, Jason,” I snap.
“You’re not working today,” he informs.
I stare.
He grips the steering wheel tighter, so tight it’s like a dial on my own tension, which is trying to strangle me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand.
The car speeds up.
“Jason!” I practically spit. “Turn this car around and take me to the library. I need to open it in an hour.”
“Fuck the library,” he mutters.
I hard-blink. “Fuck the library?”
He flexes his jaw muscles.