I was weak, that’s why.I let out a heavy sigh. “Because I was ashamed. It was my fault, and I couldn’t face your family knowing I made it out alive, but he didn’t. I couldn’t look you in the eye and…” I shake my head, now steadying my breath. “Knowing that I’m alive, and your brother isn’t. It would've been like a slap in the face, another knife stabbing you in the heart. I couldn't do that to you all.” I admit as heat blazes over my face.
There’s silence for a few seconds and I take the moment to look at her again. She gazes at me too, then looks away. “I hated you for it.”
Everything tightens again. I could say anything that would make up for it, but you can't make up to someone who feels betrayed. Not really anyway.
“I don’t blame you for that. I hated myself for it. I still do.”
She sighs. “I also understand now. One day, he was here and the next he was gone, you witnessed his death, and you couldn’t do anything about it.” She inhales slightly, running her hand down her arm again. “But think of everything you have done, in justice for Carter. Relieve yourself from that hate. I have.”
From that, neither of us speak, I only continue in silence replaying every moment, every experience Carter and I shared. A brother who wasn’t my blood but treated each like we were. He was my family. Then I think of the promise I made him. It's why I have to make things right with Anita. She can’t be away from me. Not ever.
“I think we should talk about what happened last week.”
I catch her stiffen. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she states blandly, gazing ahead at the dark road.
“It is. We need to discuss?—”
“No need.”
I cut my focus on her. “You can ask me questions, but I can’t ask you?”
Her eyes roll, tapping her leg as her tongue plucks around her mouth, not retorting back.
“We—”
She reaches over fast and raises the volume on the radio. The anthem playing loud and clear.
I quickly lower it. Irritation setting in. “Don’t fuck with me.”
“I like the song. More than this conversation you want to have,” she spits out, going to reach again.
I catch it, blocking the volume knob and flinging her wrist. “Do you really want to test me?” I warn, hoping she does.
She doesn’t.
Her arms cross with a flare to her nose. She’s dead fucking pissed. I don’t care.
I face the road again, clenching my jaw and begin, “We kissed.”
She shrugs. “Yes. For a deal. It meant nothing; you won, end of story.”
Damn. My thumb taps on the wheel, my ego flicking like a bad match. “Then why’d you leave the Academy?”
She releases an exaggerated sigh. “I realize I don’t need to stay there. I can meet when missions are set,” she says, releasing an exaggerated sigh.
A surge of panic hits me in my stomach. “That’s not going to work.”
From the corner of my eyes, her head cocks slowly to me. “Not going to work?” she repeats.
“Yes. In order to be here, you must be within the quarters in the mile radius of the tracker. For safety purposes. By going back and forth, I don’t know who your enemies are; they may follow you and find the school.” There’s a reason only a certain number of people know of GenCre.
And the parents that know signed enough NDA’s, you’d have a heart attack. No one knows unless you’re told. Also, it’s the best reason I can come up with.
“Then I’ll find a hotel nearby.”
“There are none.” Of course there are.
“I’ll sleep in my car, tucked into your creepy forest.”