Page 63 of Careless

I waited all day and all night.

The fuckwad decided not to text me until the next morning.

The shrill of my phone receiving a text forces my eyes open. Rian’s name blares across my screen like a visual siren.

I fumble for the phone and read the screen.

Rian

We need to talk about what happened. Pick you up in an hour.

Rian Walsh has his cycles. He finds something that makes him happy, he lets it make him happy for a while, then he destroys it so it can never bring him happiness again. I’ve always thought he was punishing himself, atoning for some grandiose sin, but I really don’t know why he does it.

Is that what this is? Is this the part where Rian destroys me so thoroughly that I’ll never be able to look at him without crying?

We had a good night—incredible even—and now what? Did I really think Rian would turn in his fuckboy card and make an honest woman out of me? Why do I think I am any different from the other woman he has slept with? Dumb, wishful thinking always gets the best of me.

Sorcha

Sure.

I don’t know why he wants to pick me up, but maybe my brother is home and he doesn’t want to go there to talk. Maybe he thinks I’ll cause a scene and everyone will know that he rearranged my organs after the party.

I climb out of bed and go straight to my attached bathroom to get ready.

Kia always says to put on a good face, so you look good when you’re burned into their memories. The sentiment is more for one-night stands, but I’m using it for this occasion. I might never be able to look at Rian again, so when he remembers our time together, I want him to remember me as pretty and put together. I don a baby blue dress that makes my eyes pop, and fit my make up around that.

I slip on a matching hair band, leaving my dark tresses long and wavy.

The anxiety racing through my system amps up as the minutes tick by and it gets closer to showtime.

Is this too much? The dress and makeup?

I don’t have time to rethink it too much before another text comes through.

Rian

I’m early.

Of course he is. I toss my phone and wallet in my purse before sneaking out of my room and into the hall. I’m pretty sure my dad isn’t here, but I’m not going to tempt fate. Like I suspected, he’s already gone. Guilt inches its way in for not making him breakfast and checking to see if he’s actually sober this morning.

I grab a sweater and walk out the door. Rian is parked at the curb, and a part of me wants to run back into the house, barricading myself inside to avoid this. If I don’t acknowledge the end, does it really end?

No, I have to face the music.

I climb into the front passenger seat and discover a stone-faced Rian. His eyes are glued straight ahead, his jaw tight. He doesn’t acknowledge my existence at all. With my seatbelt firmly in place, he says nothing and drives away.

Nohello. How are you? Has your pussy shrank down to a normal size since I rammed my huge eggplant up into it?Nothing.

My anxiety gets the best of me and I break the silence, barely getting the words out. “Where are we going?” I ask, hardly above a whisper.

His nostrils flare as if I just said something really offensive. “Somewhere we can talk,” he grumbles the words and goes back to his silent internal battle.

Rian maneuvers through town and gets onto the highway, heading away from our city. After many tense minutes, we enter farm country and pass miles of cornfields. The only businesses I see are gas stations and fast-food chains. Soon the businesses lessen in frequency until we pass the exit for Hempstead and Bryan. We pass the small farmer’s market and turn down the street next to the Chevron gas station.

The dirt road twists and turns. He turns into a large park next to a big pond. Judging by the level of disrepair, it seems to have been abandoned for years, maybe even decades.

I slip off my seat belt as he turns off the engine. I want to get out of this small space, made even smaller by Rian’s silence, but I remain in my seat.

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