“How about my car?” I asked, knowing it would be the last time I’d see it. That was one companion, inanimate as it was, I’d forgotten to say good-bye to.
Patrick cringed. “I don’t drive Chevys. Ever. Cardinal rule of mine.” I was in the middle of rolling my eyes when he rested his hand over the car-horn. “Do you want me to wake my father?”
He knew how to get my attention. I jogged around the front and climbed in the cab, careful not to take a breath, knowing William’s scent permeated every inch of leather and scrap of metal.
I felt the leather slide beneath my legs and the memory of the last time William and I had been in the Bronco entered my consciousness. The leather had been heated and sticky from the friction of warmed skin sliding over it. I swallowed and closed my eyes, trying to shake the memory away. I thought I heard Patrick let out a hint of a chuckle.
“Where to?” he asked, not sounding like he cared one bit, before slamming the accelerator down.
My back slammed against the bench seat and I’m pretty sure I felt my brains crash against my skull from the sudden momentum. “The airport.”
“Of course,” he said, “the favored escape for cowards everywhere.”
I glared through the windshield while my body bounced to the beat of the potholes that lined the Hayward’s driveway, trying not to think about everything I was leaving behind.
It didn’t work.
CHAPTER SIX
LIES
“Could you please turn that off?” I asked, not masking my voice.
“This is my favorite song,” Patrick replied, sounding happy with himself. “You got something against a little classic rock and roll?” I refused to look at him, but I could tell from his tone his eyes were pulled tight, as was his smile.
“Fine,” I said, slamming my index finger against the on/off switch of the Bronco’s CD player. “I’ll do it myself.”
“You’re touchy tonight,” he said, but didn’t turn the CD player back on. His intended effect had worked anyways; William’s favorite CD brought back an avalanche of memories, from him singing at the top of his lungs, to the ones where his mouth had been incapacitated from singing by my lips.
Patrick let out a sharp laugh. “Actually, you’ve been touchy all day. William’s clammy body is testament to that. Although I don’t think it’s the general ‘touchy’ he so enjoys.”
I wanted to say—yell, actually—so many things, but I didn’t because I knew I deserved every cheap shot Patrick took at me. He wasn’t dishing out anything I hadn’t earned.
The lights of the Missoula International Airport came in view, the red, green, and white lights beckoning me, promising to take me to a place far away from here, swearing my life would never be the same, warning me there was no going back.
I retracted my arm from where it’d hung out the passenger window the past couple hours, my hand soaking up the Montana air so I could take it with me wherever I went.
Patrick screeched the Bronco to a stop in front of the passenger drop-off, drawing the attention of a few attendants.
He turned in his seat and hooked an arm over the steering wheel, a sly smile covering his face. “Could you look in the glove box for me? I forgot my cell phone back home and I think William leaves a spare in it.”
I did as asked, not having the energy to question why he wanted to make a call, but I figured it probably had something to do with me. It didn’t matter, though. I’d be gone soon, exiled from Montana for the rest of my eternity.
A few maps fanned out as I sorted through the glove box, fingering around for a phone, when something popped out and fell at my feet. My heart sank and broke at the same time when I took a closer look at the item that had fallen out. The square box was small, covered in black velvet, and closed shut by a delicate silver clasp. I knew what it was a moment before I felt Patrick do an internal dance of wicked joy.
“Hopefully it’s returnable,” he said, as if he was referring to nothing more significant than a bag of potato chips.
My fingers shook when I reached for the box. When they wrapped around it, I thought I felt my soul shattering. Knowing I didn’t deserve to see, let alone wear, William’s promise of his faithfulness to me, I tossed it back in the glove box as if playing hot potato and slammed it shut.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, pausing before retrieving my backpack from the backseat. “Thanks for everything.” Not knowing what else to say, but knowing there was so much more I should, I swung the door open.
“Okay, you can stop the act now,” Patrick said, grabbing my shoulder and pulling my back down on the seat.
“What act?” I asked, trying to shake loose his hand.
“Oh, come on, Bryn. I know you better than you might think and I know you’re only doing this because you’re scared you’re going to end up killing him the next time he comes in contact with the radioactive woman.” His eyes gleamed and his smile was genuine—he really thought this was all some joke.
“It’s not an act,” I said, attempting again to exit the cab. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
His hand, yet again, stalled my retreat. “You’re not fooling—”
“There’s somebody else, okay?!” I snapped, straining my neck back so I could look him in the eye. “This isn’t just about me possibly killing him.” I tried to swallow, but my throat felt like it was packed with cotton.