Page 59 of Shut Up and Drive

He steps aside, giving me an out. At first, I hesitate. Is this really how I want to leave this conversation? Just walk away and leave it dangling between us all week? No. But I’m even more afraid to confront it because the fallout will be catastrophic. So, instead of being brave and having the hard conversation, I duck around him and say, “Water under the bridge, T.”

“Not for me, Fina,” his voice strains with a tone of desperation. “Before you go, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?”

“We’d be breaking Rule Number Three: keeping our time together in groups…” I say with the measliest confidence ever.

“Well, I’m tired of breaking Rule Number One. I need to get something off my chest.”

My stomach sinks at the possibility of what he could say, and my need to know outweighs my need to stay ignorant. I glance down at my outfit, then up at the stairway to my left. Behind closed doors, everyone in the lake house is asleep—including Bradley. It’s the perfect time to tie up some loose ends of things left unsaid from the road trip. Although my heart isn’t ready to be torn open again, I nod.Maybe once I get answers to some questions I can finally move on. I slip my pajama shorts on and set the shirt on the counter next to me.

Thane pulls the pack of Oreos from the pantry while I grab the milk and two mugs. “Technically, we already fulfilled this tradition at the Waffle House, but I’m not sure if the mini cookies count,” he says, trying to hide the nervousness behind his smile.

We sit shoulder to shoulder on barstools at the island like no time has passed at all between us. He takes a cookie and swirls it pensively in his milk while I wait in silence for him to begin.

“I think it’s important that you know why I left,” he says slowly.

I dunk my own cookie and watch as the bubbles race to the top of the milk until they stop. I put all my focus on the Oreo, hoping the stone of dread sitting in my gut will roll away on its own. “You really don’t owe me any more of an explanation,” I say, then shove my perfectly soaked cookie in my mouth.

“Yes, I do. Because the truth changes everything.”

“If you think it’ll really make a difference, then go ahead.”

Instead of eating his soggy cookie, he sets it down next to his mug on a paper towel.Abandoned.He wipes the milk from his wet fingertips and exhales.

“The night of the accident went down differently than I told the police.”

His words knock the wind out of me.

“You… lied to the police?”

“Yeah, I did.”

I stop chewing and swallow hard.

His eyebrows knit together and I study the subtle scar that stretches from his left eyebrow and into his hairline. The paramedics said he must’ve hit the mirror or a sun visor somehow, because the windshield where his head would’ve impacted was intact, and the airbags had deployed. The black-and-blue memories of Thane and Bash rear their ugly heads and I force myself not to entertain them. Instead, I ground myself by refocusing on his scar. It’s lighter now, almost undetectable unless you know what to look for. Mr. Donnelly had the best plastic surgeon in New York stitch up Thane after the accident. He said he didn’t want Thane to wear the banner of what happened for the rest of his life. But what he didn’t realize is that the scars Thane has can’t be fixed by even the most skilled of hands. They run soul-deep, and no surgeon can repair that.

“The night of the accident…”

“Serafina,” Bradley’s voice hisses from the hallway, “what on earth are you doing? It’s after midnight and you’re eating junk food?”

He walks into the room and his attention shoots over to Thane. The standoff that happens between their eyes rivalsThe Good, the Bad and the Ugly. I’m stuck in the crosshairs of their territorial battle, and I jump off my barstool to defuse the situation.

“It’s a tradition we’ve had since we were kids, Bradley. It’s nothing.”

“Do you know how many calories those cookies have? Not a good idea—especially this late at night,” he says,taking my mug from me and dumping the milk down the drain. He puts my stack of cookies back into the package and shakes his head.

Thane clears his throat to speak, and I mentally prepare myself for the worst.

“Dude, stop treating her like a child. She’s a grown woman and can eat anything she wants, anytimeshe wants,” Thane insists.

“Maybe so, but as her accountability partner, I am charged with saving her from herself when it comes to emotional eating. Right, Serafina? You’re so close to losing the rest of that twenty pounds, don’t mess it up now.”

My eyes fall to the floor and I nod.

“She’s perfect the way she is,Brad,” Thane says, his voice full of tension. “She doesn’t need to lose twenty ounces, much less twenty pounds.”

“It’s okay, Thane,” I say, setting my hand on his balled-up fist. “Bradley has been helping me get healthier. It can be hard, staying in shape when I’m around pastries all day.” I laugh, but it’s forced, and Thane stares into my eyes, unflinching.

“See? I’ve got this, man. I don’t need your help, and she doesn’t need your cookies and bad influence.” Bradley grabs my hand and leads me to the hallway.