She sets the spoon and bowl into the sink and then flips the faucet on to rinse them off. "If that's all it's going to take for something to happen between the two of you then my guess is that it'll happen whether you go on the trip or not."
I frown. She's saying my worst fears aloud.
"I'm not telling you that you have to go." She unties the tie on the apron and hangs it on the handle of a drawer. "But I think you should. You could use a break. You never smile anymore. You used to smile so much. I miss my Little Sunshine Girl."
So do I.
"And you could scatter your father's ashes while you're there." My mother lowers her feet to the floor as she stands up. "Wyoming is right where the Tetons are." She's fully aware of reality at the moment, something that happens occasionally, and it's almost too painful to witness, because we know at any moment she's going to slip away from us again.
"Mom, don't you want to be there when I do that?" I ask as she crosses the limited kitchen space. "To say goodbye."
"I already said my goodbye at his funeral. Besides, you know I can't be in a car for that long. Not after the accident." She places her hand on my cheek and a smile reaches her eyes. My heart squeezes in my chest at the brief glimpse of my mom, the one before the accident. "Your father would want his baby girl to do it. You were always his favorite." She runs her hand over the top of my head, a gesture she used to do when I was younger when she tucked me in at night. "Be his happy girl again instead of looking so sad all the time." Moments later, my mother vanishes inside herself again. "Time to watch my favorite show." Her eyes light up and she practically dances to the recliner.
My heart cracks, and I massage my aching chest. "I'm not sad all the time. Why does everyone keep saying that?"
Nelli gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Go call your work then pack your bags," she says then joins my mother in the living room.
I collect my bag from the sofa then go to my bedroom. My frown etches deeper as I enter the room barely big enough for my bed and dresser. Feathers are all over the carpet and my comforter. I pick up a trash bin near the foot of the bed and start picking them up with a timer ticking backwards in my mind. Jax said he was leaving when I texted him, which means I only have about ten minutes before he's out of town and on the road. I've already killed at least five minutes in the kitchen. I'm running out of time.
But you shouldn't even be thinking about going, anyway.
My thoughts bounce back and forth like an out-of-control bouncy ball. Right and wrong. Fear and want. Heartbreak and happiness. God, if my father could see me now, he'd be so disappointed. He used to call me his Little Spitfire, a seize the day, blue-eyed girl. He said he envied my sense of adventure.
I remember the day he gave me the nickname. I was eight-years-old and we'd gone on a family vacation to an amusement park. There was this one monstrous rollercoaster that rose to the sky and dropped to the ground that my mother and sister refused to go on. Me, I bound right up to the ride with my father hurrying after me. We rode it together, screaming our lungs off. Only when we got off did I admit to my father that I'd been terrified of riding it.
"Then why'd you get on it so easily?" he wondered as we walked toward the exit.
I shrugged. "Just because it looked scary, doesn't mean it didn't look fun. Besides, if I didn't go, I'd be standing around with mom and Lizzy and that just seemed super boring."
He smiled down at me and took my hand. "You know what my Little Spitfire, I envy your sense of adventure. I really do."
My eyelids shut and lift as I blink from the memory.
"This thing with Jax... it doesn't have to mean more than what it is," I whisper to myself as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Like my mother, I look pretty much the same as I did before the accident, though dark circles permanently reside under my eyes now. "You can just go as his friend and be there for him. You don't even have to have sex with him. Things could just be like they used to."
Before I can talk myself out of it again, I pick up my phone and dial Jax's number. He answers after three rings.
"Hey... what's up?" He sounds stressed out.
I summon a deep breath. "Turn back around and come get me. I'm going with you."
"Are you sure?" I can almost hear the smile in his voice and a grin emerges on my own lips.
"Yep, I'm positive," I reply, hoping I'm not making a mistake.
Hoping when the trip is over, Jax and I will still be... well, whatever we are.
Chapter Five
Jax
Clara has barely uttered two words to me since I picked her up from her apartment five hours ago. She packed pretty light--one small suitcase, her purse, and a black vase that carries her father's ashes--and hopped into the car looking terrified out of her Goddamn mind.
I tried to chat with her during the beginning of the drive, asked her if she got time off from work. She replied with a simple, "Yes." I asked her if there was anywhere specific she wanted to stop. She uttered, "The Tetons." I asked her if she was going to be okay scattering her father's ashes without her mom. "I have to," was her only response. Then her hands clenched into fists, and her eyes welled up, so I quickly dropped the subject and concentrated on the road while Clara fixed her attention on my iPod.
After about six hours on the freeway, I pull off an exit ramp to get gas. It's late, the stars are twinkling in the clear summer sky, and the florescent lighting of the gas station flows into the cab of the Jeep as I park in front of the pump.
"I'm going to go to the bathroom," Clara mutters as she nudges the door open with her elbow. "You want me to get you anything?"
I shake my head, even though I'm starving. But I feel like shit. Not only because I'm heading home, but because I can tell Clara doesn't want to be here with me.
She hesitates then heads inside the gas station while I climb out of the Jeep, scan my card, then recline against the pump as I wait for the tank to fill up.
Through the store window, I spot Clara when she exits the bathroom. She veers to the right and over to the soda section. Her lips are moving, and she keeps tugging her hand through her hair as if she's freaking out. She does this movement where she raises her hands in front of her, like she's chewing out the air, then she shakes her head, lowers her hands, and yanks open the cooler door. After snatching up a few sodas, she makes her way down an aisle and to the register.
The cashier is a guy in his mid-twenties with a beard and hair to his shoulders. He flashes Clara a few smiles, says something and then laughs. He's probably flirting with her. I don't blame him. Even in frayed shorts and a faded tank top, she's sexy as hell.
When she walks out of the store, my suspicions are confirmed as the cashier leans over the counter and checks out her ass. He watches her all the way to the Jeep then notices me noticing him and hastily looks at the register.
"Hey." Clara smiles as she strolls up to me with a bag full of goodies in her hand.
"Hey?" I reply more as a question, her sudden cheery attitude throwing me off.
She offers me another smile then gets in the car, right as the gas pump clicks. I remove the nozzle and collect my receipt before sliding into the driver's seat.
Clara retrieves a bottle of Dr. Pepper from the bag and places it into the cup-holder. "I got you two of these because I know they're your favorite." She digs around in the bag. "And a bag of Cheetos, M&Ms, and mints." She grins proudly. "I think I got all your favorites."
"Yeah... you did," I turn the engine while studying her. "Did you do a line of crack in the bathroom or something?"
"No, I was planning on saving that for the motel room," she jokes. "Why?"
"Because you seem a lot happier than you did five minutes ago. I mean, you've barely said two words to me the last four hundred miles."
"I know." Sighing, she leans over the console to put the bag of snacks on the backseat. "I've been a super crappy road trip buddy so far, which is really sucky of me. Don't worry, though. I gave myself a pep tal
k while I was in the store, so I'm back in the game."
"Is that what your weird little hand thingy was? Because it looked like you were chewing out the coolers."
She scratches the back of her neck. "I probably should have done it while I was in the bathroom. I think the cashier thought I was nuts."
"I doubt that." I flip on the headlights. "He was checking out your ass while you were walking out."
"Can you really blame him? I have a great ass."
"Yes, you do," I agree as I drive onto the road and head toward the onramp, glad to have my Clara back.
She grins as she tears open a bag of Skittles, but then her expression turns serious. "Jax, I'm really sorry for being a downer. I just felt a little guilty for leaving my mom at home."
"Why? Because she gets lonely?" I subtly press for information, hoping I can figure out what on earth goes on at her home.
"Kind of..." She shakes her head. "Can we forget I said anything?"
I try to read her, but she lowers her chin and allows her hair to fall forward to block her face.
"Okay, sure." I focus on the road. It's late enough that the highway is pretty desolate, peaceful, quiet, which makes the drive relaxing.
"So, how far are we going to go before we pull over and sleep?" Clara asks as she turns on "Can't Forget You" by My Darkest Days. She places the iPod back into the stand on the dash then slips her flip-flops off and rests back in the seat. "Or are we just going to do rotation and cruise the whole way through?"
"That really all depends."
"On what?"
"On how well of a night driver you are." Holding onto the steering wheel with one hand, I pick up the soda and fumble to twist the lid off. "I can go for a while, but I'm not going to be able to stay awake the entire way."
Clara must get tired of watching me struggle because she snatches the bottle from my hand and unscrews the cap before returning it. "Truthfully, I'm not the best. I actually have to wear glasses when I drive at night."
"Really? I don't ever remember you wearing glasses." I take a drink of the soda then set the bottle back in the holder.
"That's because I try not to drive at night solely because of that."
"I bet you look cute in them." I gather her hair in my hand and pile it up on top of her head. "Like a naughty librarian. Maybe we could do a recap of Friday night when we pull over. Only this time, you can pretend to be a naughty librarian."
"And what would you be?"
I shrug. "A guy who wants to do a naughty librarian."
She snorts a laugh, but then her shoulders slouch. "Actually, I've been meaning to bring up our arrangement to you." She scratches at the corner of her eye as she stares at the green glow of the stereo. "I think we should set some new ground rules for this trip."
"More rules?" I pout. "We already have a lot."
She stares at my jutted out lip then nibbles her own. "I know but," her gaze collides with mine, "it just seems like doing anything while we're spending this much time together could end up being a disaster. Besides, it's not Friday."
"Yeah, but there'll be a Friday in," I look at the clock on the dashboard--nine-fourteen, "less than four days."
"Jax," she begs with her hands clasped in front of her, "please, please, pretty please don't make things complicated."
My pout deepens, but I surrender. I owe her that much for coming on this trip with me. "Fine, but only on two conditions. One, you don't judge me based on anything you see during this trip."
"I would never, ever judge you," she says, shocked. "Besides, I already know how bad your mom is."
"Yeah, but you haven't seen the shithole I grew up in."
"I'm sure it can't be any worse than where I live now."
I think about telling her right then that I'm moving into the same apartment complex as her. She couldn't run away from me, either, not until we got home. But it seems like a dickhead move when she's driving clear across the country with me.
"Just promise me." I reach for my drink again.
"All right, I swear."
"And two, you play a road game with me."
"What kind of a road game?"
"How about the game of pull over the car and give me road head?" I suggest with an innocent shrug.
Her eyelids lower as she pinches my side. "Watch it, buddy. You're breaking my new rule."
I chuckle, rubbing the spot she pinched. "What? You said we couldn't fool around, but perverted jokes are fair game. Besides, we'd get bored if we didn't banter."
She doesn't argue. "We could play I Spy."
"Or twenty questions."
"No way. That game is too dangerous."
"Why? What are you hiding Clara McKiney?"
"Nothing." She averts her gaze to the backseat. "Hey, I forgot I bought gum."
"Saved by the subject change," I tease her as I reach for the iPod and skip to the next song. "How about if we play truth, but promise to keep the conversations light?"
She sits back in her seat with a stick of gum in her hand. "It still sounds kind of dangerous."
I wiggle my brows at her. "Where's your wild side?"
She unwraps the gum and pops it into her mouth. "I haven't seen her in like three years," she mutters. Her gaze travels to the back of the Jeep where the black vase is seat belted in, just in case we hit a bump or something. She suddenly squares her shoulders. "All right, let's play truth. But let's make it a lightning round. Make things interesting." Her voice quivers as if she's scaring herself.
"Are you sure?" I check. "Because we don't even have to play a game if you don't want to."
"Favorite color?" she starts the game without missing a beat.
"Blue, but you already knew that." I hurriedly think of a question. "Favorite food?"
"Pizza." She points a finger at me. "You knew that already, too."
"There's too much pressure doing a lightning round," I say at the same time she sputters, "Favorite sexual position?" She pulls a whoops face as she slaps her hand across her mouth.
"The Standing Wheelbarrow," I answer with a grin. "I can't believe you asked that question. You have such a dirty mind."
"That was an accidental question," she protests, lowering her hand to her lap. "And I've never heard of the position. I think you're making it up. "
"It's not made up. And I'll prove it to you one day." I smirk when she fakes a scowl. "What's your favorite position?"
She fidgets with a hem of her shorts. "I don't know... um, doggie style."
"Have you ever even done that position before?" I ask with an impish grin.
She shoves my shoulder, causing a slight swerve of the steering wheel. "Oh, shut up. You know I'm limited on my knowledge, but that doesn't mean I'm an idiot."
"Hey, easy, you're going to make me crash." I steady the wheel as I laugh. "So, have you?"
"It's not your turn to ask a question," she says, grinning. "Favorite car?"
"A 1969 GTO Judge," I answer easily. "Now, have you ever done doggie style before?"
She huffs an irritated breath. "You're relentless."
"Yeah, so. Answer the question."
She shakes her head. "No, I haven't, okay."
"Don't worry, we can try that position one day, too." I wink at her, trying to lighten the mood.
She rolls her eyes, but I notice she squeezes her legs together like she's totally getting turned on. "Favorite dessert?"
"You covered in chocolate."
She massages her temples with her fingers. "This game is already getting out of hand."
"You're the one who suggested doing a lightning round. I'm just doing what I'm supposed to and saying the first thing that pops into my head. I can't help it if all of my thoughts are dirty." I pause, giving her a chance to say something. When she doesn't, I continue with my next question. "Favorite song?"
She props her feet up on the dash. "That question has, like, a hundred answers."
I drum my fingers on top of the wheel to the beat of the song f
lowing from the radio. "Okay, favorite instrument, then?"
"Um, I don't know. I can't play anything but I really like the sound of the violin." She briefly considers her next question. "Why do you always wear that ring?"
"That's a pretty random question."
"I'm just wondering why you wear it a lot. It looks kind of... feminine." She bites her lip, looking guilty. "Sorry, that probably sounded rude."
"No, it's fine." I graze my thumbnail across a diamond on the band. "It's the only present my mother's ever given me. She said it was my grandfather's who I've never met, but I'm not quite sure how true that story is. If it is his, though, then he had pretty girly taste." I can tell she feels sorry for me. Not wanting a pity party, I ask my next question. "Favorite eye color?"
"That's really your next question?"
"It's a very important question."
"Okay, green." She rolls her tongue in her mouth to keep from laughing.