Page 91 of Past the Broken Bridges

Looks like we’re both having a shit night.

I think about what I used to like doing when I was upset growing up. “How do you feel about ice cream?”

“Ice cream?” she repeats, swiping a finger under her eyelashes to catch tears before they fall.

I climb out. “I know a place that’s open late. They’re good too. Only if you want. I don’t want to go back yet, but I can drop you off at the dorm if you’d prefer going home.”

Dixie nibbles her lip and rubs her arm. “I’m not ruining your night?”

The only thing I had planned was going home and watching TV, so I suppose ice cream is a better alternative. “Nah. Climb in. It’s my treat.”

I walk over and open the opposite door for her, waiting for her to get in. Before I close it, she whispers, “Dawson ended things today.”

Ah, fuck.What am I supposed to say to that?

I know she liked him a lot. And maybe if Dawson was a little clearer headed, it could have been reciprocated, but I’m not sure he would have ever gotten there in his current state. Telling that to the sad girl beside me is definitely not going to be as comforting as I’d mean it to be.

So the only thing I can say is “I’m sorry.”

I don’t know if I should press for details unless she wants to tell me. And, frankly, I don’t want to. It’s not my place, and God only knows what she’d say.

Shifting on my feet, I cuss to myself when I see her bottom lip quiver. “Don’t cry. Dawson is an idiot. He’s not in the best mindset right now.”

She nods, not meeting my eyes.

There’s no defending whatever he did, so I won’t bother. “My favorite ice cream growing up was cookies and cream. But when I was sad, my mom used to take me out to The Dairy Lounge and get me their special.”

Dixie blinks past her glossy gaze. “What was their special?”

My smile comes easily, remembering all the times my mom and I would sneak away just the two of us and enjoy a sweet treat before my father got home. Those were the good days when I knew what peace felt like. “Mint chocolate chip.”

Her face scrunches. “You honestly like that stuff? It tastes like toothpaste.”

I chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you eat it. You can get whatever you want.”

Her sniffle is a little less sad as she inhales and exhales one more deep breath. “I like cookies and cream.”

I nudge her arm. “Cookies and cream it is.”

The first ten minutes go by in silence, which isn’t totally uncomfortable. Dixie stares out the window, her reflection contemplative. I give her the time to think, to process whatever she’s feeling.

Five minutes from the parlor, she starts fidgeting. “Banks?”

I hum.

“Sawyer is a lucky girl.”

My eyes dart to her, one eyebrow rising.

Her smile is small, knowing. When she rests her head back, she closes her eyes, the smile disappearing. “Hopefully you two smarten up and actually do something about it.”

That’s the last thing we say to one another the rest of the night.

I buy us two ice cream bowls—I get her cookies and cream and me mint chocolate chip. She tries mine despite hating the flavor and then gives me some of hers.

It’s quiet, which I think we both need.

To think.

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