Fast Car | Escapes #1

Chapter 16

Why? Why was I getting so worked up over this? Why was my chest aching at the thought she'd been told I wanted nothing to do with her? Why did my father do that? Why?

"Is everything okay?" Brayden asked quietly in a voice that told me he wasn't sure it was okay to ask. 

I sniffled and opened the glove box, needing to do something to distract myself. The pack of tissues was nestled alongside a stack of papers. "Yeah," I whispered. "Everything is fine." I took out a tissue and blew my nose before dabbing at my eyes. After a moment, I cleared my throat and stared at my lap. The silence was weighing on me, and I felt like he deserved at least some explanation about what was going on. "How much do you know about my family?"

"I know you live with your dad, but that's it."

"My mom lives with her new husband now. She left when I was 16. I haven't spoken with her since then. She's been texting my father, though." I unlocked the phone and looked at the messages again. "She's been wanting to talk to me, but he's never told me."

A hand touched my leg and I jumped. He rested his hand more firmly on my knee and gave me a small squeeze before retracting it. "Is there something I can do to help you?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"Are you sure? I can take you to where she lives. You can go see her and set the record straight."

I shook my head with more vigor than I intended. "No. I'll be fine." He reached over and patted my hand, letting his touch linger. Again, I felt those tingles. What was going on? My was squeezed by a different emotion than it had been just moments before. It made me feel like I should tell him more about my family, my past, and what I hoped to find. "She left because she couldn't take my father anymore."

He nodded, giving me the permission I needed to keep talking. The hum of the car and the road was the only background noise as I spoke. I told him about my mother, that my father hit her, and that he hit me. That I was tired of everything at home and I wasn't going back. 

Something in his face softened as he listened, but I never found the pity I was afraid of finding. He simply listened, taking in everything I wanted him to know without judging me. It was what I didn't know I needed. 

By the time I finished my story, I felt like a massive weight had been lifted from me. I hadn't realized I'd been carrying around so much until it was all out. My shoulders felt relaxed. Who knew that telling someone would feel this good?

"I'm sorry you went through all of that," he said quietly. "But, you know, it made you who you are, so I'm also glad you did. I like the you here with me now."

I looked at him, shocked by his words. It was obvious he liked me, but he made it sound like he meant it in a non-friendship way. Surely I was mistaken. I took a moment to find words to respond, my mouth opening and closing a couple times without sound. "You, too," I said after a moment. He glanced at me. There was a hint of something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "What were things like for you growing up?" I asked, looking at the road in front of us.

He hummed as he thought. "Well, I guess I grew up pretty well-off. I mean, we weren't rich by any means, but I don't remember my parents ever struggling to put food on the table. Mom was a little bit of a clean freak. She kept the house spotless. No one was allowed to wear shoes in the house, she never left a dish in the sink for more than a couple hours, and the house always seemed to sparkle. Even now when I go home there's never a hair or a speck of dust to be seen.

"Dad, well, he was always strict. He stayed on top of who I was with and where I went. If there was one sus thing about what I told him, I was sent to my room. He had to meet every one of my friends, too. If I mentioned someone, he had to meet them. I think now that it was a good thing. At the time I didn't, obviously. But that kind of went out the window when I went to college."

"What was college like? I'm not going, so I want to know."

He frowned and glanced at me. "You should go. You're super smart, like I am."

I snorted a laugh. "Yeah, right. How would I pay for it? I'd need to work full time to keep up with the loans."

"There's financial aid available, you know. Most colleges have it."

I poked his arm. "You're dodging the question. What was college like?"

He sighed. "You wouldn't like the person I was during the first couple years. I was a party boy. I let loose the moment I wasn't under my dad's care. Not going to lie, I went pretty crazy. My third year, it hit me pretty hard that I was behind in grades and classes, so I worked my butt off that year. My fourth year, well, I picked up drinking on the weekends with some friends that stuck around. I don't really like them, but they're someone to spend time with." He shrugged. 

My thoughts went to the one drunk guy that was always hitting on me. "So that time at the bus stop - those guys are your friends?"

He shook his head. "Not quite. They're guys I used to hang out with in high school. The guys I went to college with aren't as crude as them. Those guys never went to college. They stayed here and did who knows what for the last four years. The college guys are spread out in other places. Jaeden is off in southern California with his girl. I think they're getting married at the end of the year. Silas is off in Boston. He's working at his dad's law firm. Then there's Willy. He's down in Arkansas somewhere. His dream was to start a business, so he's working on doing that."

"That's pretty cool." His friends impressed me more than him. Still, he had some merit. "Why are you hanging out with those guys from high school, then? They seem poor mannered."

He blushed slightly as he glanced over at me. "Well, they're not like how they used to be. They've kind of turned into bums. Like, they had decent upbringings and all that, and back in high school they were the type to score 80% on a test after skimming the information, then turn around and go to a party that night. Dad never really knew about any of that, though. I stayed home from those parties, which turned out to be a good thing. The last few got busted up by the police."

I nodded. Those were parties I remembered hearing about. I was in my last year of middle school, but the kids were gossiping about it because there were kids with siblings that had been there. There were all kinds of stories floating around that year about them, and none of those had been good. 

His story just reminded me that he did things I didn't like or approve of. I wasn't sure I could be with anyone who did the things my father did. My face was turned towards the road coming towards us, but my gaze slid to the side and studied him. Nothing about him really stood out as being like my father, so I supposed the question was whether or not I could put up with the drinking. 

"Do you get drunk often?" I asked timidly, knowing that it was a personal question and that it was coming seemingly out of nowhere.

"Not really? I don't remember the last time I was. Maybe my second year of college? I've been able to stay at least mostly sober since then."

My brow furrowed and I turned to him. "You were drunk that day you saved me from your friend or do you not remember that?"

He shook his head. "I remember. I wasn't drunk, though. If memory serves, I was starting to feel a little tipsy but I turn clumsy if I get a drop of alcohol in me."

I sat back and returned my gaze to the road. "Oh." The day had been so long ago that I couldn't remember the specifics of how he acted, but his words seemed truthful. At least, he seemed like he was being honest. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. With a sigh, I looked out my window. "I'm never ingesting a drop of alcohol."

"Don't say never. You may change your mind at some point."

I shook my head, watching his reflection glance at me. "I don't want to be him. I'm not taking any chances."

He didn't respond to me, letting us fall into silence. It felt relaxed more than comfortable. I could feel how heavy the air around us was, but it felt more like what I imagined a weighted blanket was like than suffocating. I watched Brayden's reflection. His posture was much more relaxed than before. Seemed I wasn't the only one that felt more at ease with him. 

Underneath that feeling, though, was something else. Like we'd had a real connection with each other. Like we could understand each other now. I relished the feeling. No one else had given me the same, and at that moment, I was fine with that. In fact, I only wanted the feeling with him.

What was happening to me?