Page 62 of How to Break My Heart 1
“Aston…” she calls softly.
“Don’t start, Mother. I’m leaving.”
With the bottle in my hand, I rush out the door only to hear footsteps follow me to the car.Fuck, why won’t everyone leave me alone?!
“You’re not driving,” Everleigh calls out behind me.
I bow my head, refusing to answer. My hands grip the glass bottle like my entire life depends on it. “I need to get out of here,” I hiss.
She snatches the keys from my hand, much to my annoyance. “Fine, I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”
My gaze flickers to hers. “You’re not driving my car. Nobody drives my car.”
“Then I guess you won’t be going anywhere.”
I lower my chin to my chest, letting out a huff. Everleigh moves to the driver’s side while I climb into the passenger seat. God, everything about this feels wrong. It’s almost like I have no power, sitting here like a fucking moron unable to drive my own car.
The loss of control prompts me to take another swig of the bottle as Everleigh attempts to insert the keys into the ignition but sees no ignition.
“Um…”
“Foot on the brake, stick out of gear, press this button.” I exhale, then turn to her and question, “Do you know how to drive a stick?”
“Yes,” she declares, rolling her eyes. “Can you trust me, please?”
“Fine.”
The engine starts with a loud roar, a sound that always manages to calm me.
Everleigh does, in fact, know how to drive a stick.
And as the dark road greets us, I sink into my seat and continue to drink straight out of the bottle.
“What happened back there?” she asks, breaking the welcome silence.
“It’s not worth talking about.”
I hear her sigh. “Why do you let him get to you, Aston?”
My head shakes unwillingly as I stare out the window. “You have no idea who my father is.”
“Maybe. But I know what I feel. And for as long as I’ve known your father, he has made me feel…” Everleigh pauses, then continues, “Uncomfortable.”
“Among many things he makes a person feel,” I mutter.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she falters, quickly glancing at me, only to focus back on the road. “Unless, of course, you want to. No pressure.”
I take another long drink, allowing the liquor to burn. “Then let’s not.”
“Okay, fine,” she answers. “Where do you want me to take you?”
“Your place,” I tell her.
“My place?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“I’ll make a deal with you. Stop drinking, and you can come back to my place. Otherwise, I will dump you on the side of the road right here in the pitch black and let a bear feast on your drunk ass.”
