Page 33 of Dravin

“Then yes.”

I trace a patch on my jeans. I haven’t been able to paint anything on canvas for so long, but after that visit a few nights ago, I had a burst of creativity. I went out and thrifted the next morning, finding the perfect pair to spruce up. “What’s happening to us? I’m so lost.”

Fuck. That’s the last thing I should have said.

“Yeah. I- yeah.”

It’s easier if I don’t look at him, but staring at the dark hulking monoliths just beyond the windows doesn’t stem the flow of shit I shouldn’t be blurting. “The only time I haven’t felt lost since Marcus died is right now.”

“That’s the whiskey talking.” He’s sure because it’s easier to be sure. It’s much, much easier to blame the booze. I can’t let him do that.

“It’s not. My coordination sucks, but my mind is functional. Can you… can you maybe… it was just strong feelings. They don’t have to be the good kind to engender an appetite.”

“That sounds like a college lecture,” he snorts, pretending to be lost, but I know he gets it.

“More like an online reel for people with a short attention span.”

Movement in the car catches my eye and I whip my head around, ready on instinct to defend myself, my muscles hardening and my hand shooting up to block a blow.

He visibly recoils, slamming his hand back on the wheel. He was just going to reach out. Maybe reassure me. He probably would have stopped himself before he ever touched me.

My heart plummets at the wounded expression he can’t keep from flitting briefly over his face. He waits a moment then switches on the interior light above us. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Define okay.”

“I don’t know. It’s a stupid word. It’s a stupid question.”

“Should I give the corresponding stupid answer?”

That flicker of his lips at the corner is enough to send my insides into a complete clenched up tailspin of desire. “I want an honest answer.”

Shit. Well, I guess here we go. “I don’t know. How does anyone know what will happen in the future? Do I trust youto take care of us? What choice do I have? But at the same time, I guess I kind of… do.”

He’s quiet and once the words start coming, I can’t just cut them off.

“Am I sorry I took a whole bunch of shit out on you and was mean? I am. I couldn’t tell you that before and I’m sorry for that too. I don’t hate you. I thought I might, but I don’t. I don’t even hate this place as much as I thought I should.”

“Mmm.” I don’t know what that means and he’s angled away from me, staring out ahead of the car.

The whiskey lowers all the walls and drops the filters that would normally keep me somewhat safe. “Will it ever be okay that Marcus is gone and that I didn’t get to say goodbye? That I’ll never see him again? I owe him so fucking much and that’s always going to kill me. I can’t change it, and I have no idea how to get through it. So… you’re right. I don’t know much of anything at all and I’m fucking sorry.”

Dravin’s still staring straight ahead and that’s probably the only thing that keeps me from dying of embarrassment. Or maybe it’s to hide the fact that throughout it all, he tried to slap that stone façade back into place and never quite achieved it.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says so quietly that I can barely make out the words.

“I do. I want to.”

Without warning, he drops his head into his hands and groans. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“For being a shitty guardian.”

My throat closes up. “You’re not really.”

“For kissing you.”

It’s doubly closed now, and my stomach starts spinning again. There’s nothing worse than having someone rock your entire world and then tell you that they regret it. “Please don’t apologize for that.”

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