9781250209153

“What the—?” I say, stunned.
Irene draws a slow breath, hands on her knees. She’s silent for a
moment, and I don’t know what to do. “Did—” She swallows hard. “Did
you know Prescott used to drive the same car as you?”
I blink. “What?”
She collapses onto the curb, wrapping her arms around her calves. “His
parents took his Audi away after the drunk driving incident, so the ‘spare’
car he used when Charlotte first started dating him was a rental car. A green
Jetta. When she invited him to that party last year, I lost my mind about it. I
called a towing company and read them his license plate.” She looks up at
me, her eyes shiny. “But it wasn’t his license plate. It was yours.”
I can only stand there, buffeted by this reveal.
“I’ve been where you are, Scottie. That kind of crazy, flesh-eating pain
that consumes every part of you. I understand wanting to get back at them.
Wanting their attention, even if it’s in a negative way. But the shitty thing is,
that never helps you feel better. It just lands you in a worse situation, like
towing the car of a perfectly nice girl who had nothing to do with the pain
you’re in.”
The world goes quiet. I try to feel my body. My stomach is like ice.
“This entire thing was a mistake,” Irene says, standing up. She leans
against her car again, tears streaming down her face. A detached part of my
brain says Go to her, but I’m frozen where I stand.
“Let’s consider our arrangement finished,” Irene says hollowly. “I’ll
return the money if you want it. You’ll just have to give me some time to
get a job.”
A shard goes through the center of my body. That’s not what I want, but
I still can’t bring myself to speak.
Irene opens her car door and settles into the driver’s side. “You might
wanna back up. I don’t want to hit you with my car.”
She pulls the door shut with a dull thud. The engine starts, the brake
lights flash red, her car starts to move. I back up, numb from head to toe,
and watch her drive away.