Page 32 of Violent Skies

“I got in here, didn’t I?” Riggs smirks and tucks his hand into mine. It’s warm, like most of his intentions, and he leads us through the dark house toward the back door. He holds it open for me as I slide between him and the door frame but before I can slip out into the night he brings his finger beneath my chin.

“What?”

“Just wanted to look at you for a second.” He sounds weird, and I don’t know how to ask him what's wrong but before I can he changes pace again and pulls away. “Okay, now we can go.”

I pause, watching him for heartbeat longer before I skip down off the step toward the old honda civic and Riggs closes the distance with his long legs, reaching the door to open it for me. All hope that my Aunt staying asleep goes out the window when the engine rumbles to life and he pulls out onto the street with as much noise as he can make.

“You did that on purpose,” I say leaning over the center to look at the side of his face. That boyish jaw, turning sharp with age and his soft smile appearing less and less the more he experiences. I can see him sliding away from me right before my eyes and I don’t really know how to stop it from happening. “Where are we going?” I ask him, knowing that he doesn’t have a destination, he just needs out.

“Anywhere we want,” he says, shifting gears and forcing the Civic faster as he rips out onto the highway. His gaze grows distant. The highway is quiet but his thoughts are loud.

“Riggs.” I call out to him and he turns to look at me. “What’s wrong?”

I’ve known him since I was seven years old. We moved into the house across the street from his family’s home and garage. And I know when he’s upset about something.

“It’s nothing,” he says too quickly for it to be the truth.

“It’s him isn’t it. What did he do?” I ask, I can hear Koa in the back of my mind defending himself from words that Riggs hasn’t even spoken.

“Don’t worry about it, Cress,” he says, finally turning to look me in the eye. “You want to drive?” he asks and I take a second but I nod.

This is the most exhilarating part of knowing Riggs Monroe.

He shifts back in his seat, moving it back just enough for me to crawl into his lap and take over the wheel.

“Don’t kill us.” He rests his chin on my shoulder and his breath warms my ear as he presses his foot on the gas pedal and urges the Civic even faster. His hand wraps around my stomach, splaying there and his pinky plays with the hem of my tank top as I focus on the road beneath us. The highway is empty tonight, like it knew we were coming and the faster we move the further we get away from all the problems.

“You ready?” he whispers and I nod, making sure I have a good grip on the wheel as he does it again. The car surges forward and it rattles through my bones, clearing out every single bad thought I’ve had all day. This is why he drives, it resets everything.

Almost everything.

The way he shut me down plays in the back of my mind. Last year after Koa asked me to be his girlfriend, Riggs changed. He shut down and retreated back into a dark little shell. He forces a pretty smile, does the work his Mom needs him to do, does alright in school and protects his siblings. But… he’s different now. Every glance he gives me is distant. Unless we’re alone and then I see him again, like he lets himself out of whatever cage he’s locked himself in.

The sting of what Riggs has never said lingers. The question constantly echoes in the back of my mind, the need to know never dulling.

PRESENT DAY

“What did he do that day?” I say to Riggs and his brow furrows.

“What day?” His chest heaves beneath his shirt and I know he wants answers, a reaction but I don’t know what to say to him. My heart’s racing so fast that I can’t even hear myself breathing and for a second I think that this is what it feels like to have a heart attack.

“The last time you took me out,” I remind him and his face drops.

“Shot a kid. He was your age.” He swallows thickly. “We were running our first pick up for Westfall. It was a BMW. It wasn’t worth a life, but the kid got into it with Koa and I can still hear the pop sometimes.”

“What?” My lips part in confusion. Koa had been at the island the morning after eating cereal with a grin on his face as he spun the quarter in his fingers. I was never the wiser.

“We dropped the car off, Koa took off and I came home.”

To you.

He came back to me and Koa ran.

“You…” I lick my bottom lip. Came home.

“Cress, none of that matters anymore. We were kids.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me.

You.