Brady
It felt like someone had poured molten glass directly into my eyes.
I fought to keep them open as Clarke drove my truck back to Sweetwater Peak. She'd called me in a frantic state a few hours ago when her sister, Collins, hadn't made it home yet. Clarke was worried she'd broken down on the side of the road somewhere, and it turned out she was right.
Normally, I wouldn't go out of my way to drive through a torrential downpour for someone I didn't know, but Clarke and her family had been good to me since I moved to Sweetwater Peak. And, honestly, I'd heard enough about Collins to be curious. *Had* been the keyword.
Now that I was fighting the urge to gouge my eyes out because it would be less painful than keeping them open, my curiosity was dead and buried. I just wanted out of this truck.
Clarke was behind the wheel of my two-door Chevy pickup, and her sister was in the passenger seat, which meant I was wedged between them on the bench seat. It also meant I was stuck in the middle of their argument.
"Seriously, Collins," Clarke said. "People break down on that road all the time. You should've called before your service dropped."
"I forgot," Collins said. Her voice was defensive.
Clarke scoffed. "I can't believe you were just going to sleep in your car. Did you really think none of us would be worried enough to come look for you?"
"What else was I supposed to do? Walk forty miles to Sweetwater in the rain?"
"No," Clarke huffed. "You were supposed to know better in the first place."
"I do know better," Collins said. "I just decided not to act on it."
"Grow up," Clarke sighed.
"Get a grip," Collins shot back.
God, if my head didn't already feel like it was going to explode, these two would give me a killer migraine. I only had brothers, and right now, I was pretty grateful for that.
"Mom made lunch," Clarke said, not missing a beat. "And then dinner while we were waiting for you."
I felt Collins shrug. We were entirely too close together, and I was acutely aware of every point of contact.
"I love leftovers," she said, and a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
Their argument was like an Olympic table tennis match—both of them flinging words back at each other before the other had a chance to think.
"And we've talked about the pepper spray incident," Clarke said, moving on. "You said you weren't going to shoot first and ask questions anymore—not after last time."
Last time?
"Okay, well, what would you do if some random man's face showed up in your car window on a dark and stormy night? On Wyoming's emptiest road?"
"You were coming home, Collins. You literally know every single person who would be on that road."
"Not everyone," Collins said, and I could feel her looking at me. Good point. "Safety first."
Clarke let out an exasperated sigh and then went quiet. Thank God.
"I missed you, you idiot," Clarke said after a few beats.
"I missed you, too," Collins grumbled. "And I'm really sorry for pepper-spraying you," she said to me. I would've looked at her, but it hurt to move my eyes. She sounded mostly sincere.
"It's fine," I muttered.
"She's normally more behaved than this, Brady," Clarke said apologetically.
"I'm not, actually."
"Shut up, Collins. I'm trying to make sure you still have a place to stay, dumbass."
Right. I'd agreed to let Clarke's sister stay in the spare half of my apartment. In lieu of rent, she was supposed to help me with some business stuff. Apparently, Collins didn't like staying with her family and liked to stay busy—at least, according to her sister.
To me, it sounded like she needed a place to stay and a job, and didn't want her family to know about it, but that was none of my business. I had my own shit going on. I didn't need to worry about anyone else's.
"He was going to find out sooner or later that you've fed him a bunch of bullshit," Collins said, and then stuck her hand in front of me, like she was trying to get me to shake it. "Collins Cartwright," she said. "Fuckup extraordinaire and indiscriminate pepper-sprayer."
I wasn't going to take her hand anyway, but I didn't have a chance to even try because the truck swerved, and my body crashed into Collins. I instinctively put my arm in front of her as Clarke tried to regain control of the truck as it hydroplaned. I felt us fishtail for a few seconds before we straightened out.
"Shit," Clarke said as the truck came to a stop. "Sorry."
I turned my face to Collins. My vision wasn't great, but her hazel eyes were wide as she looked up at me.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Y-yeah," she breathed, and I felt it on my face. I watched her look down at my arm, which was still braced against her. "Thank you."
I nodded, but I didn't look away.
"Everyone all right?" Clarke asked.
Her voice sounded far away, but Collins's was close when she said, "All good."
"Twenty minutes to home," Clarke said as I moved my arm and scooted back to my spot in the middle. My thigh was touching Collins's thigh, but for some reason, I didn't move it. I felt her tense when Clarke said "home."
When the truck started moving again, I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the seat—counting down the minutes until I was out of this truck.