Page 20 of Shut Up and Drive
“It’s a good step, Fina. Keep going.”
“I don’t want to keep going. I want to completely close off and shove everything back into their tiny little boxes of sadness. I want to scream and yell and fight. I want to fly across the table and tackle you to the ground. I want to stomp on your heart until it’s bruised and bloodied like you did to mine. But even then, that wouldn’t make you feel even a fraction of the pain I have because of you.”
I force myself to shut my mouth, but not because I’m afraid of causing a scene. Everyone who frequents the Waffle House knows that arguments and fistfights are inevitable, and no one bats an eye. I can’t give Thane the satisfaction of stirring me up. So I take another deep breath, stuff everything back down inside, and force a smile.
The corners of Thane’s mouth twitch, which fuels my fire.
“What are you smiling at?” I snap.
“Nothing. I’ve just never seen you boil over in such a public place before. It’s great.”
“It isnotgreat. It’s humiliating and embarrassing.”
“Those both mean the same thing,” he replies, allowing the grin he fought to finally win.
I narrow my eyes. “You. Are. Infuriating,” I say as controlled as I can under my breath.
“So I’ve heard.”
I rest my elbows on the table and raise my eyebrows expectantly. Thane fidgets under my stare and finallyasks, “What?”
“I feel like it’s only fair that you share something after I emotionally vomited all over you.”
“Okaaaaay,” he says slowly, and allows a pause to hover between us before continuing. “I’m hurt too.”
My stone heart softens at the realization that he carries wounds from us as well. Still, I fold my arms to keep him out.
“How so?”
He thinks for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “Let’s just say that the future I had hoped for, I never allowed myself to have.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“Maybe I can explain it better later,” Thane says as an inebriated man staggers past and slumps into the booth behind me. “This hardly seems like the place.”
“You’re probably right. Plus, I’ve had enough of whatever just happened. For now, at least,” I say, emptying my coffee cup for the third time. “Maybe we can talk more at the lake tonight.”
Thane’s eyes move toward the window, and his brow furrows. “I’m not sure we’re going to make it to Amethyst Lake tonight, Fina.”
I glance out the same window, the rain pouring down it in a steady stream. “I was afraid of that. But how will we find a hotel when there’s no power?”
Just then, our waitress walks up to take away our plates.
“If y’all are lookin’ for a place to stay and ride out the storm tonight, my Meemaw has a B&B just down the road. I can call her and ask if she can take ya.”
A sigh of relief escapes me. “Oh, that’d be great. Thank you,” I reply.
“You bet! I’ll be right back.” She turns and walks toward the back of the restaurant and pulls out her phone.
A few minutes later, she returns with a thumbs-up and a smile. She scribbles the address on her order pad and rips the paper out. “Here’s the address. She knows to expect you. She has no power, but plenty of candles, a gas water heater, and a comfy place to lay your head.”
“Thank you,” Thane says to our waitress, and slides his mug of milk between us. He pulls a snack-sized bag of Oreos from his pocket and splays it open on the table. “I know we technically aren’t at the lake house yet, but tradition is tradition.”
My heart stumbles.
I reluctantly take a tiny cookie from the bag and clink it together with his. We both dunk in the mug at the same time, and our fingers touch, sending a wave of familiarity through me.
Milk and cookies at Amethyst Lake was our thing. Every night after the rest of our families went to sleep, we’d sneak down to the kitchen and raid the cookie jar, just the two of us in the silence. Sometimes we never even spoke. We just…were.
