I Don't Believe You

Chapter 37

When Koda found me, I was shivering. It couldn't have been more than thirty minutes, but the short-sleeved shirt I was wearing wasn't doing damage against the desert night. The temperature had dropped with the descent of the sun and it was only getting colder. My arms were wrapped around my knees still, and my head leaned against one shoulder tiredly.

"Sloane," Koda whispered, voice husky. "I am so sorry about that. I don't know what happened to me. I will never hurt you. It was just an accident."

The words were the right ones, but I didn't move. I was worried if I did, I might forgive him. Another part of me didn't want to look in his eyes and be reminded of our dad. I had spent years outrunning this and now I was running directly toward it.

"It's okay," I said, before I meant it. A hand came down on my back and I felt the warmth spread to my limbs, giving them the ability to move once more. I stood up slowly and brushed my shorts off, not meeting his eye.

"Let's go," I said, heading back in the direction of the car. He grabbed the neck of my shirt and faced me in the opposite direction. I started walking the new way, ignoring the smile I could feel on his face. When I could see the car, I paused mid-step.

"A guy pulled over with a bag of tools and helped me get it going. It should run fine," he said, explaining why the smoking vehicle I had seen earlier looked as good as new. I nodded and kept moving. Upon closer inspection, I could see little indentations along the bottom where rocks had kicked up and the car was covered in a thin letter of red dust.

Instead of asking questions, I buckled into my seat and pulled out my sketchbook and pencils. Koda started the car and flicked his blinker on although the highway was currently empty. We bumped back over the dusty path our car had created until we reached the road once more and slid on gently.

"I'm really-" Koda said, but I held up a hand to stop him. I dropped it when he stopped but didn't explain myself. I pulled out the colors I needed and shut my eyes, letting the image that I needed to draw find me. Sometimes when things got overwhelming, I would do this. When my parents fought and their screams filled the house, I'd make word bubbles with angry red colors and sharp lines. When my foster parents would mistreat me, I'd draw storm clouds pouring rain while tears fell from my eyes. I didn't imagine an image, I just let it come to me.

I expected something abstract and creative. Instead, when I was done, two large brown eyes stared down at me accusingly. I slammed the sketchbook shut and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Sloane, we have to talk about this," Koda decided, after an hour of driving in complete silence. I had thawed out enough that I offered a verbal response.

"What's there to talk about?" I asked cheerfully.

"You're joking," he said blankly. I rolled my eyes in response. Geniuses were never appreciated in their time.

"I'm so sorry about the driving thing. I think I was tired. Maybe I fell asleep for a moment," he guessed. I wanted to believe that he had fallen asleep, but I saw the storm that passed over his face. He was gone to the world, but it wasn't out of exhaustion.

"Okay," I sighed.

"Can you forgive me?" he begged. I fidgeted in my seat. "Please? I would never mean to cause you harm. I love you, Slo. It was an accident." His voice was desperate, and I saw his hands quiver a little on the wheel. I knew he meant it, so why was it so hard to agree?

"I forgive you," I finally answered, feeling a large lump in my throat. ''But it scared me. I've never seen you like that. I thought we were going to die." Without warning, the panic inside of me dissolved, and my nose began running. I grabbed tissues from the back seat and tried to hide that my eyes were following suit. "Fuck."

"It's okay," he said, having the decency not to look at me while I cried. "I'm going to keep you safe now. Forever. No matter what."

"Okay," I whispered back brokenly, wishing more than anything that he meant it.