Chapter Sixteen

        Where We Worry

        There’s something about doing a hobby that you love that just tears the world away for a little while. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re distracted and can’t worry and work at the same time, or just the plain fact that you’re enjoying what you’re doing. Regardless of what the specifications are, everyone has that something.

            Mine is driving.

            It hasn’t been long since Belle showed me the letter. After telling her to keep quiet about it and making her promise to hide it, we’ve been acting as it never happened. Every day after that Jacoby and I have had a routine. In the morning, we work on the Mustang and retrieve parts from the junkyard, ignoring creepy Ian. On the way back we grab breakfast, repeat the process until lunch and then go to the track so Jacoby can teach me to drive.

            I never thought I would get back in a car, yet alone with someone I care about. I’ve always been terrified of hurting someone and assumed that it would open the wound of hurting my mother all over again. But I was wrong.

            “Easy on the gas, Stevie,” Jacoby laughs, grabbing the handle above the passenger door as we drift and bump around a corner.

            “But I like going fast,” I mumble in a daze. I’m too focused on the track ahead of me to even think of anything else but driving.

            “Well I like my tires the way they were before.” I can see him smirking out of the corner of my eye. “Besides, I don’t think you need any more practice. Why don’t we head back now?”

            My grip lessons on the steering wheel as I ease off the gas. Slowing to a stop at the start of the track, I turn to Jacoby. “You’re no fun.”

            Jacoby smirks, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’m okay with that.”

            The ride home is silent, excluding the sound of the world passing us through the open windows. The radio is turned down so low I can barely hear it and try to guess what song is playing.

            I don’t know where things stand between Jacoby and I. I know we both have mutual feelings, but I don’t know what to do about them. I thought him ending things with Dove for her sake would also help mine, though I’m finding myself more and more overanalyzing why Jacoby hasn’t mentioned anything or even made a move as simple as giving me a hug.

            “Uh oh,” Jacoby mutters as we pull into my driveway. I follow his eyes, wondering what he’s looking at when I see someone sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the porch. My mind instantly goes to worst case scenario and the wind is knocked out of me, thinking it’s my dad there. However thankfully, when we pull to a stop, I see its Lark.

            “I think I better go…” Jacoby’s eyes don’t waver from the gravel straight ahead of the Camaro.

            “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I sigh, opening my door and climbing out. I’m about to say something else but Lark cuts me off.

            “That’s right, Grey! You stay in that car if you know what’s good for you!” Lark calls.

            I roll my eyes and give Jacoby a wave before trudging towards the steps, already knowing that Lark is going to lecture me about not spending that much time with her. I’ve been so caught up with learning to race and fixing the Mustang that I haven’t had time for anything else.

            “Stupid boy for distracting you from girl time,” Lark mutters as the Camaro drives away. I sink into the rocking chair behind her and hug my knees to my chest. Lark gestures to the two glasses sitting on the table between us. “Iced Tea?”

            After a few rants from Lark and endless questions, she finally realizes that I’m distracted. Without knowing, I’m staring down at the floorboards of the deck, trying to pay attention to her and the cracks in the wood at the same time.

            “What’s wrong, Stevie?”

            On one hand, I want to tell her nothing. It’s the easiest way to get out of the conversation and move on, hopefully actually making nothing wrong. But on the other, Lark knows me too well to not see my lies and telling her somewhat of what is going on might help me.

            “If I tell you something, can you promise not to mention it to anyone?” My gaze flickers to hers and Lark shoots me a disappointed look.

            “Do you really think I gossip about our conversations? Of course I won’t tell. If I did than you would tell everyone that I liked that boy who used to eat paste in kindergarten.”

            I roll my eyes and sink back into the rocking chair. For whatever reason, Lark is still mortified about that, even though we’re all teenagers and it’s so insignificant now. Maybe in elementary school it would have been embarrassing, but now no one cares about things like that.

            “Okay, well…” I trail off, searching for the words. It’s so hard to tell half of the truth, trying to pick out what parts not to tell. “You know that Belle and I came here because our dad got…hurt.” Lark nods, urging me on. “Well, I think he might be coming back, like to come get us and bring us home.”

            Lark’s mouth falls and her expression looks like a mix between anger and sadness. “Stevie,” she objects, rising to her feet. She takes my hands and makes me stand as she steps off the deck. Turning around at the bottom, she stretches out her arms and gestures to the Plantation around her. “This is your home.”

            Sighing, I lean against the railing. “I know.”

            “He can’t take you, Stevie. I won’t let him.” I think I see tears shimmering in Lark’s eyes but she’s too far away to tell. “I lost you once. I can’t lose my best friend again.”

            Slowly, I listen to the sound of my cowboy boots hitting the wood as I go to meet Lark. She is crying; the tears threatening to escape her glossy eyes. Without warning, I wrap her in my arms and hug my best friend. I don’t know how I ever managed without her.

            “I don’t want to leave. I’m going to do everything I can to prevent that from happening.” I don’t mention why. I don’t tell her that Belle and I could never leave the house without our father. I don’t tell her that he blamed me for what happened to our mom. I don’t tell her that he would abuse us.

            “What did your grandpa say?” Lark pulls away from me and lowers herself onto the steps. When I’m sitting beside her, I prop my chin up with my hands.

            “He doesn’t know.” I can feel Lark’s shocked eyes boring into the side of my face. “I haven’t told him because I know it will hurt him. Besides, I’m hoping that maybe my dad won’t show up at all.”

            “Why? I remember you liking your dad,” Lark says, her voice curious. As soon as she replies I feel my heart pick up speed because I’ve bit off more than I can chew.

            “He’s just been…” I pause, searching for the correct word. “He’s been different since the thing with my mom.”

            “That’s understandable.” I think Lark settles on ending the conversation here but I’m wrong. “Different how?”

            My words come out abruptly. “Can we change the subject?”

            Lark shrugs and leans back on her hands. “Sure. Let’s start with the fact that I’m starving. Are you up for some pancakes?”

            I narrow my eyes and she laughs. “Of course I am. But there’s a problem.”

            “What’s that?”

            “We don’t have a car to drive.”

            Before I can think of a suggestion, Lark is dragging me to my feet and down the driveway. I struggle to keep up with her determined pace and she doesn’t dare loosen her grip until we reach the gate that opens onto the road.

            “We’re walking?” I gasp, trying to get my best friend to slow down. “It’s all the way in town.”

            Lark doesn’t seem to think this is a problem. “It’s fine, Stevie. If you pass out I’ll be sure to put you under a shady tree and come back for you.”

            I snort. “Reassuring.”

©

            Greenbrier comes into view much later than expected. By the time I can barely see the town through the rows of trees lining farmer’s fields, I’m completely exhausted, wanting nothing more than to sit down and take a break. Lark, on the other hand, disagrees.

            “You can sit down in the diner over a nice stack of buttermilk pancakes. How does that sound, Stevie?” Lark turns her head to look at me but I’m too tired to move my gaze from the road. “Pancakes.”

            “I’m not a dog,” I groan, more unenthusiastic than planned. “Please Lark. Can we just take a break for a minute?”

            Finally, thank the heavens, Lark stops ahead of me and turns around. Putting her hands on her hips, she cocks her head to the side and shoots me a look.

            “Fine. But then you’re buying.”

            I breathe out a thank you and collapse in the grass beside the gravel of the road. As Lark joins me I let my head fall onto my knees. My throat hurts from being so dry. Lark wouldn’t even let me get a bottle of water before she dragged me out here.

             I don’t think we’ve sat for five minutes when I hear the sound of tires kicking up stones. Rolling my head to the left, I see the last yellow car that I want to see right now. I think my day just keeps getting worse and worse.

            “Uh oh,” Lark mutters beside me as the Mini Cooper slows to a stop.

            It skids in front of us and we shield our eyes from the gravel that flies up. Dove Miller turns her head towards us and lifts up her oversized sunglasses to see. The second her eyes land on me she scowls, but it’s more than just a bit unhappy.

            “Get in,” she orders.

            Lark and I stagger to our feet. Just as she’s about to comply, I start walking down the side of the road. Confused, Lark pauses mid-reach to grab the door handle. 

            “Stevie,” Dove spits, her voice filled with venom. “Where do you think you’re going?”

            “I can see the town from here.” I point my thumb towards the barely visible buildings through the trees. “I think I’ll walk.”

            “I don’t think I made myself clear.” Dove doesn’t hide the anger in her voice. “Get. In.”

            The drive to the diner has to be the most awkward ten minutes of my life. Neither Lark nor I speak as Dove glares at me in the rear-view mirror. Even though I can’t see her eyes through her giant sunglasses, I know she’s shooting me daggers from the way the rest of her face curls up in disgust.

            Dove’s the first one to break the silence when we pull in the diner’s parking lot.

            “Get out,” she practically snarls. Her grip doesn’t move from the steering wheel.

            As Lark and I cautiously exit the Mini, I’m starting to feel like a dog being ordered around. I expect Dove to speed off the second we close the doors, but not before she says something that shouldn’t be repeated, however she doesn’t. Instead, she kills the engine and climbs out.

            “You’re coming?” Lark sounds appalled.

            “Yeah,” Dove snaps, sauntering past us. When she holds the chiming doors of the diner, she turns to me and slides her sunglasses down her nose so I can meet her gaze. “There’s a talk Stevie and I need to have.”

            I swallow the lump in my throat as Dove gives me a smile. Once she’s inside the diner, I start to trudge behind. I already know that this is about Jacoby, and I already know that Dove is never going to let this go.