foot on the gas, though, it gets harder to fight the urge to turn around. Her tear-filled “But I love you,” as I left her, broken, in that bar drowns out the bad nineties on the radio, and Leigh’s “Nina’s a mess” twists the knife deeper. The sob Nina tried to swallow as I walked away haunts me. She apologized and I spat in her face. Asshole. I grit my teeth as I mumble my mantra, “This. Is. For. The. Best.” It loops through my mind as I try to block how good it felt to be with her this morning, her hips moving with mine, her nails gripping my back. I repeat it over and over as my car slows. Fucking crawls. Practically wheezes. I have just enough time to pull over to the side of this winding road, my hunk-of-junk ride officially out of gas. I drop my forehead onto the steering wheel.
This is for the best.
I’m not sure how long I stay like that. My phone is on the passenger seat, still vibrating incessantly, but answering it would mean moving. An unpleasant option. My head feels about a thousand pounds, my heart even heavier, but the thing won’t shut up. With a groan, I shove myself upright and grab my cell. Leigh, again.
Her most recent message is like a shot of Red Bull in my veins.
Get the fuck back here. This isn’t a joke. Nina’s mom has breast cancer.
My reaction is instant. Fumbling with my seat belt, I get it off and shove my door open. My racing heart powers me out of the car, and I jog—I run—the sharp pain in my ankle not even close to the crushing weight on my chest. I need to hitch to a gas station.
I need to get to Nina.
I keep looking over my shoulder, desperate for a car to come sailing around the corner. If I get filled up and on the road in the next hour, I can get back by three or four. With each heavy footfall, grief claws at my throat. Unbridled anguish in all its glory. It’s an all too familiar feeling.
After the accident, I’d lay awake for hours, alone in the hospital, consumed by sadness and regret. When the dust settled and I accepted Mom was gone, I replayed every decision, sure one different choice would mean she’d still be alive. Each possibility tormented me. I wouldn’t talk to anyone. I’d stare at the sterile hospital ceiling and ignore all visitors. Until the day James went Schwarzenegger on me. The dude slapped me across the cheek and pounded my chest until we were both a sobbing mess. The counseling helped after that. I developed my new life motto to live in the now and speak my mind. Embrace each day. And here I am, running away from Nina because I love her too much. Like that shit wouldn’t chase me senseless.
Screw my fear of losing her and ending up like my dad. Life’s too damn short. And no way am I going to abandon her like Lacey discarded me. Nina needs me to man up and help her get through this. I need to man up so I can live with myself. Live the best life I can. Crunching gravel has me flipping around and throwing my thumb to the side. The Honda slows, thank God, and pulls off to the side.
I lean on the lowered window, breathing fast. I nod to the older man behind the wheel. “Just need a lift to the nearest gas station.”
He unlocks the door. “Hop on in. It’s not far.”
Not far, my ass. Each second away from Nina is an eternity.
It’s after five by the time I pull up to the hostel in Christchurch. The traffic during the day is a hell of a lot worse than before sunrise. I’m about to pull out my phone to text Leigh I’m here, but I spot her and Paige talking outside the front door. The second she sees me, she says something to Paige and stalks over to my car.
If I had to sculpt one of those creepy wax statues to capture Leigh, it would mirror the aggressive pose she strikes: arms crossed, cheekbones sharp, an angry scowl on her face. I get out, uncurl my body, and stretch my legs, then face the Dragon Lady to take the beating I deserve.
She huffs out a breath. “First, I can’t believe you hopped in your piece-of-shit car and left Nina. I’d