a little. She shouldn’t have put it in the bag, obviously—none of those cheap plastic lids were ever watertight.
Why had she put it in the bag? She couldn’t entirely remember. She’d been holding the cups, one in each hand, when she’d come out of the gas station—
Oh, well. It probably didn’t matter. Just a brain fart, like when you opened the door to the fridge and then forgot what you’d been looking for.
Besides, she didn’t want to go poking at what had just happened. It was already fuzzy, and that was better, because she had definitely done something... wrong. Something that had made her feel awkward and lesser. Something that had touched on scorched earth inside her mind.
She would just stay away from it. There was no reason to prod at a sore spot.
Gretchen had spent a long time teaching herself that if something hurt you, or bothered you, the best thing you could do—for your sake and for the sake of everyone around you—was to ignore it.
She opened the door to the backseat, inexplicably relieved to see Cooper’s eyes.
Green eyes were much better than amber ones. Although—had she ever seen amber eyes? Probably not.
“One Milky Way Midnight, as requested.” She handed it over.
He reached out his bound hands and took it, but his gaze never left her.
“What was up with the car?” Cooper said.
Gretchen frowned. “What car?”
The little indentation between his eyebrows deepened, and she realized to her surprise that he was worried. “The black car. You talked to the driver.”
“Oh, that.” She waved her hand. “It was nothing. No problem at all.”
“That’s good,” Cooper said slowly, “but—”
“If Gretchen says it’s fine, it’s fine,” Keith said.
Gretchen seized on that agreement, brushing aside the fact that until ten seconds ago, she hadn’t had the highest opinion of Keith’s instincts or opinions. There was something strange about her clinging to Keith’s ideas and disregarding Cooper’s, but whenever she tried to think about it, shame seemed to creep up on her again.
She slid back into the driver’s seat, handing Keith his mini-donuts and coffee. She didn’t feel like drinking hers right now. She had the weird idea that she was going to be sick.
Your body’s trying to reject it, she thought. She didn’t know what the “it” even was. Like it did with Tricia’s bite. Like people’s bodies do sometimes with organ donations. Your soul is trying to spit something back out again.
“Ready to get back on the road?” she said.
“We’ve barely been on the road,” Keith said. “We only made a couple miles before you pulled us over here.”
Always Mr. Accurate.
He had a point, though. They weren’t making great progress at this rate.
“Gretchen. Gretchen, look at me.”
It was Cooper. He was leaning forward so far in his seat that his forehead was almost pressed against the thick plastic divider that separated them.
“Oh no.” It sounded like Keith was objecting about this to the heavens, even if no one else was listening. “No. I’m going to try to be nicer to you, but no, you can’t be on a first-name basis with us.”
She wouldn’t have been surprised if Cooper had snapped at him, but Cooper appealed to him instead.
“Can’t you see that there’s something wrong with her? She’s your partner. Listen to the way she sounds! She’s confused, spacey—”
“I’m fine,” Gretchen insisted.
Did she sound confused and spacey? Did she feel confused and spacey? It was hard to tell.
“I’m trying to give you some latitude,” Keith said to Cooper, “but you’re crossing so many lines here—”
“I’m crossing lines? Forget about me! Pay attention to your partner, dammit! She’s not okay! Does this seem like Gretchen to you?”
Keith did do a little bit of a double-take towards her then, like he was honestly considering whatever Cooper was saying. Then he shook his head and said dismissively, “You don’t even know her.”
“Apparently I know her better than you do!” Cooper said.
She could feel his intensity, so hot it was almost melting the plastic. He was so vivid. It felt like if she let him, he would burn away all the walls she’d built up inside herself. He would set her free.
But she couldn’t let him. People got hurt when she believed that there was something inside her waiting to be unlocked. She couldn’t risk that happening ever again.
If she turned her head, she could still see the black car sitting in its parking space. Only now...