“I’ve got better things to do than get shot at over a lane change.”
That made him chuckle, low and genuine.
Halfway down Riverside, my phone lit up with Lainey’s name. I usually let calls go to voicemail when I have a passenger, but my gut said to answer.
I glanced at Marcos in the mirror. “Sorry, this is my friend; she’s watching my little brother. I have to pick up for her,” I explained, my voice steady despite the rising tension in my chest.
He nodded, his attention still fixed on the screen of his phone, his fingers scrolling through whatever distraction was drawing him in. “Go ahead," he said absently.
I pressed the button on my steering wheel to connect my phone. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Lainey’s tone was low, almost hesitant. “Jo, Kyrin’s saying his chest feels tight. He’s been sitting on the couch since you left. I gave him his meds, but he still looks really tired.”
My own chest tightened hearing that. “Put him on.”
There was a shuffle, and then Kyrin’s voice came through, small and shaky. “Hey, Jo. I’m okay. I just… got tired.”
“Are you short of breath?” I panicked, forcing myself to keep my voice calm.
“A little,” he replied honestly, each word a soft breath against the phone.
“Alright, sport. Listen, I’m on my first andlastride. As soon as I drop them off, I’m coming to get you. Just sit still and relax, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I love you,” I added, feeling a wave of relief wash over me as I heard the slight smile in his response.
“Love you too.”
Lainey came back on the line. “Drive safe, and you don’t have to rush. You know I got him.”
“Thanks, Lainey.”
I ended the call, my heart thudding faster than the tires on the road beneath me.
When I glanced up in the mirror, I found Marcos’s gaze fixed on me. His expression was subtle but scrutinizing. Something about his look felt heavier, more curious than before.
“Look… I’m not trying to pry, but I did overhear that call. Is your brother sick?”
“Something like that,” I answered, perhaps too quickly, divulging more than I intended in front of a stranger.
“Must be serious. I heard that Uber’s real strict about phone calls during rides.”
Of course he’s one of ‘those’ passengerswho treats the Uber rules like they’re the Ten Commandments. He probably reminded the teacher about homework back in school.
I tightened my grip on the wheel, a reflex to ground myself. “Look, if you want to report me or complain to Uber—”
“Whoa!” Marcos interjected, lifting a hand slightly. “Relax. It’s nothing like that.”
I flicked my eyes toward the mirror again, my curiosity piqued despite my unease.
“I was just curious,” he clarified. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not the type to mess up somebody’s hustle… especially not someone out here clearly trying to hold things together.”
His understanding felt genuine, and for a fleeting moment, a platonic connection sparked between us, however brief.
He leaned back again, voice calm. “People who choose to work on a holiday when they clearly don’t have to, usually have a good reason.”
I looked back at the road. “I do," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could second-guess them.