Page 77 of Broken Breath
Not literally,thank God.But close enough.
“I…Finn, Dane is sick. You’ll get sick staying in here.”
He grabs his backpack again, unzips a side pocket, and pulls out what looks like an oversized lozenge pack. He holds it up between two fingers. “These are the miracle cure. We just suck on them nonstop for the next eight hours and won’t catch anything. My mom swears by them.”
That makes me pause.
I remember Finn’s mom, with her soft voice and kind eyes. When the circuit stopped in Canada, we used to stay with them, and I grew really fond of her. Even when we were on the road, she’d send care packages filled with homemade granola bars and those awful vitamin gummies that tasted like dirt. She’s a pharmacist. Finn’s dad is a pianist, some big deal in Quebec.
They never reallyunderstoodFinn, never got why he’d throw his body down a mountain for fun, but they always supported the hell out of it.
I glance at the lozenges. “Dane’s probably gonna sleep the whole time,” I try again, a final weak protest.
“Even more reason not to let you drive all this alone,” he says casually, like it’s already decided.
“I could stop. Take breaks.”
“You could.” His voice dips, amused. “But you wouldn’t.”
I narrow my eyes at the road ahead. “How would you know?”
“I just know,” he says with another maddening shrug. Then I hear the crinkle of a wrapper, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch him unwrapping a lozenge.
“Open.” Before I can register what’s happening, he leans forward and gently pushes the lozenge against my lips.
My mouth opens on instinct because, apparently, I’ve lostall control over basic motor function, and his fingers brush the edge of my lower lip with a soft, fleeting pressure that might as well be a lightning strike. My breath stalls in my chest.
“There we go,” he murmurs, all smug satisfaction, and drops back into his seat, oblivious to the fact that he just rearranged my entire nervous system. He pops another one into his mouth, completely casual.
Meanwhile, I’m sitting here with my pulse galloping and my cheeks burning like I’ve got a fever too. His fingers were just on my lips. His fingers.My lips.
Stunned, I try not to choke on the lozenge or acknowledge the fact that my entire body is on fire now.
“Drive, Al.” Finn chuckles, and I grip the wheel like it might keep me grounded.
Fuck.
I do what I’m told, and a few miles slip past in tense silence. Trees blur past the windows, and the engine hums. From the back, Dane coughs regularly, all wet, like his lungs are trying to turn themselves inside out, and the sound starts scraping along my nerves like sandpaper until I can’t take it anymore.
I slam the button to start up the radio, and a synth-heavy beat explodes through the speakers. It’s some god-awful techno track from one of Dane’s playlists.
“Ew.” Finn grimaces. “I thought Alaina taught you better than that.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue as Finn pulls out his phone. Apparently,it’s still connected from last time, because the display flickers and the music cuts out. “Better. What’s your favorite song?”
I only hesitate a beat before telling him, “ “You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid,” The Offspring.”
He chuckles. “Figures.”
I turnmy head to glare at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” He smirks. “Just… fits. But too bad, we’re listening to mine.”
“Pieces” by Sum 41 filters through the speakers, and it hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. I haven’t heard this song in seven years, exactly. I didn’t want to listen to it. Couldn’t. It hurt too fucking much. I meet his gaze in the mirror, just in time to see his smile fade.
“You don’t like it?” he asks, softer now.
I force a shrug. “I do.”
