Page 50 of Secondhand Smoke
She hated how his face fell when he looked away from the ceiling. It felt like she was taking him away from whatever world he imagined up there.
“Because of your parents?” he asked.
Nell shook her head and looked at her hands. “Because of the drive.”
“Too far?”
She peered at him a long moment until it clicked.
Oh.
He didn’t know.
She didn’t know why she’d expected him to know. This whole time she’d felt this connection between them, thisunderstanding. Figured he’d never askedwhyshe only everrode her bike because he already understood and was saving her the pain of having to explain it.
But she’d miscalculated.
Her heart dropped, and she couldn’t even blame him. It was her own fault, expecting him to read her mind.
She looked away and took a deep breath. The least she could do was clarify things.
“I can’t get in a car anymore. Doesn’t matter how far. Last time I sat in one, I threw up all over the place and jumped out. The time before that, I killed my friends.” Barrett said nothing, so Nell focused on her fingers, picking at her nails, and continued. “If I can’t get there by bike, I can’t go there at all. So, unfortunately, Bellevue is off the list for me.”
Was it too much?
Everyone knew it was a car crash. It had been all over the papers and news stations by the weekend.Three Gemsburg girls killed in horrific crash; driver alive with minor injuries.
Despite playing that night in her head repeatedly—the sights, the smells, the sounds—she never told anyone the whole story other than the details in the last seconds before she skidded. Didn’t matter, though; everyone had come to their own conclusions about it. But she came up with one too when she woke up in the hospital bed and was told none of her friends made it.
It was her fault. She’d killed them.
“You’d think I would’ve realized it before,” Barrett said, leaning back onto his hands. “I just thought youreallyloved that bike.”
Nell couldn’t help it. The corner of her lip twitched, and she bit her lip. It was so wrong to be amused, and yet his awkward chuckle tickled her, and she laughed. “Unlike you, I don’t fall for inanimate objects.”
“Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?” He sounded offended, but his grin said otherwise.
“You’ve named a guitar, for God’s sake.”
“For your information, Sandra is my mistress.” Barrett reached out and stroked the neck of the instrument with an ironic sensual touch that made Nell laugh into her fingers.
“Your mistress?” Nell gasped, scandalized. “There’s another?”
“My first love was Battle Axe.”
“A lovely name.”
“Thank you.”
“Is Battle Axe still around?”
He shrugged. “Somewhere around here. She was a gift from Ron when I first moved here, and I gave her every ounce of my attention throughout elementary and middle school. I haven’t played her since I was a freshman, though, because once I bought Sandra, I was a goner. I suppose I should find Battle Axe sometime. She might be better suited for KC’s song.” He was looking at the ceiling again, with that look in his eyes.
Nell, instead, looked at him. “I trust that whatever you decide is best for her song.”
Barrett looked back at her. That look in his eyes remained, and Nell’s heart floated somewhere she wasn’t sure she could reach.
“Thank you.”
