Page 37 of Accidentally Mine
“She’s all right.She had another episode while she was at her appointment.Ernest is going to stay with her until we can get there.”
I reached for my phone, which I’d stupidly had on silent.There was a phone message from an unknown number.I tapped the button to listen.“Hi, doll, it’s your auntie.It appears they’re not letting me out of their sight just yet and they’re transporting me up to Charlestown for observation.Do you mind bringing me some of my things?My pajamas and toothbrush?”
She sounded calm, but that didn’t make me feel better.I jumped to my feet as I ended the message.“Oh.Oh god.I’ve got to go.”
Brent began piling everything into the basket as I ran inside and into her bedroom.I filled her overnight bag haphazardly, then grabbed the keys for her ancient boat of a Buick Century from the hook in the kitchen.I ran to the front of the house and stopped short, nearly skidding right into Brent’s broad chest in the center of the foyer.
He took the suitcase from me and placed a hand on my shoulder.“Roselynn.Calm yourself.”
I held out the keys for him to take.“I’m freaking.Can you drive me?”
He didn’t take them.He didn’t do anything for a long second.Finally, he said, “We can just take the T.It’s four stops up on the Red Line.”
“No.She’s not at Mecca.She’s up in Charlestown.”
“Charlestown?Fuckme.What’s she doing all the way out there in no man’s land?”
“Yeah, so we’d have to switch trains and take a bus, right?And that would take forever.”I shook the keychain in front of him.“But it’s probably a twenty-minute drive.”
He raked a hand through his hair and shoved both hands in his pockets.“I…don’t drive.”
“You don’t?”Surprised, I stared at him.“You said you weren’t fond of driving.I didn’t think that—”
“Sorry.”He said the word in a very final, conversation-ending way.
“No, it’s okay,” I said, hurrying down the steps, embarrassed.There was obvious pain in the admission.But I couldn’t think about that now.
He followed me, and I opened the trunk and threw the suitcase in.Then I went around to the driver’s side door and slid inside.I hadn’t driven since the day after I arrived in Long Grove, when I shipped my Subaru off to the scrapyard.But it was like riding a bicycle, right?
I took in a deep breath and leaned forward, studying all the weird, foreign controls.This was like a buffet of everything that was not fun about driving, laid out in front of me.I looked for the button to release the locks and then realized there wasn’t one.I reached over and pulled up the passenger lock manually.He slid in beside me.
I pushed the key into the ignition, turned it, and the thing roared to life under us.I moved a lever and the windshield wipers streaked loudly over the dry windshield.
Fantastic.
Then I spent the next two minutes trying to calm my racing heart.Throw it in drive, girl.You can do it.
After a few seconds of wondering where the gearshift had gone to, I found it, attached to the right side of the steering wheel.All I needed to do was yank it toward me, and slide it to D.It should’ve been such a simple thing, but it felt like climbing Mount Everest.I wrapped my shaking fingers around it and clenched my teeth.Then I pulled off my hat, threw it into the back, fisting my hair.
“Hey.”I looked over at Brent.The dimple was showing.“You can do this.”
He snaked his hand behind my neck and pressed his warm fingers into the tendons there, massaging the tension away.If any other man had tried that, I probably would’ve socked him.But with Brent, it felt amazing.Fingers of electricity traveled down my spine, turning every one of my nerve endings to jelly.
Desire flickered to life in me.For the briefest of moments, I wondered what else those hands could do to my body.And I wanted desperately to forget about this drive ahead of me, go back inside, and let him show me.
I shoved those thoughts away, threw the car into drive, and eased out of the tight parallel parking spot.
“Good job,” he said as I made it out on Leeds Street and to the stop sign.“You’re going to need to hang a left here.”
Right.I could do this.
“I haven’t driven in a really long time,” I said, adjusting myself in the bench seat to be able to see over the steering wheel.“But it’s okay.It’s coming back to me now.”
“I more than understand,” he said.
His hand never left the back of my neck.He stroked the whole twenty-minute drive up there, and by the time I pulled into MGH Charlestown, I felt completely Zen, as though I’d had a full-body massage.
After I found a parking space in the garage and we rushed through the sliding glass doors, I attacked the information desk.“Marie Monroe?”I asked hopefully, gripping the counter.“Is she okay?”
