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She doesn't have to finish that thought - I know she’s talking about how the family had come together after her father walked out on them.
I nod, the motion stiff and deliberate as the cold hand of fear squeezes my heart. To say I was jealous of her family dynamic when we were teens is an understatement. They were a tight-knit group, quick to say I love you and support one another through the toughest of days.
“I’m sorry, I know your family-” I hold up a hand to halt her words.
“I just want to find Emma,” I say, a barrier swiftly rising around my heart. There’s no use delving into my past, or the pain that comes with those memories. Suffice it to say that love was a luxury I’d never been afforded in my home growing up, but I wished to be part of hers with everything I was back then.
We continue to search, the silence heavy with unspoken fears and the weight of the past. Memories of past moments between us linger like ghosts.
My hands tighten around the cool leather steering wheel. Without thinking, I pull the car over and park. The quiet is only broken by the car’s engine and our breathing, and she glances at me, questioning what I’m doing with her eyes only.
I unbuckle and open my arms to her.
She freezes, then releases her belt, closing the distance between us and climbing into my lap. Winding my arms around her, I feel her trembling and silently offer her all my strength as I tuck my chin over her shoulder. Her heart slams between us, and I hear her soft sniffle as she releases some of the pain she’s been holding onto.
Trailing my fingers down her back in a soothing, petting motion, I just stay present for her, offering to be a safe harbor for her in the middle of this terrifying storm. Because the need to protect her is welling up and pushing out everything else in my mind.
When she pulls back, I release her. Capturing her gaze with mine, I ask, “Do you want to keep looking?” My voice softly reaches her in the confined space, and she hesitates.
“Yes, please,” she whispers. The desperation in her voice slices me to the bone, and I try to imagine how I’d feel if someone I loved up and walked away without a word-
Like I’d done to her.
Damn it.
With a deep ache growing within me, I nod my head and she climbs back into her seat. But this time, she’s not curled into a ball; she relaxes and inhales as if she can breathe normally again. Her red eyes are still watery, so I lean over and pop open the glove box.
Offering her a pack of tissues, I hear her deep laugh. “Since when do you keep tissues in your car?” The truth is that she’s not the first woman to cry in that passenger seat, though usually they’re crying for other reasons.
“In case of allergies,” I say, the lie so effortless I begin to wonder if there’s any saving what’s between us. Or what used to be between us, I guess.
“Huh,” she says, not totally convinced. “I didn’t know you had allergies.”
I lift both shoulders as I buckle back in and pull the car away from the curb and head out into the darkness again. The headlights slice through the darkness as we drive.
“Maybe we should check the city,” I say. If I wanted to leave and start over, I’d do so in the city. But I have little to no hope we’ll casually come across Emma.
The only reason I’m still driving is to help Lila feel better, to give her a sense of control and that she’s doing something. I know that waiting around would drive her insane. So, we drive.
She nods in agreement.
I reach out and rest a hand on her thigh, offering silent reassurance. She flinches, then relaxes, her tension melting away. Letting her go, I turn on the heat, trying to chase away the cold that seems to have settled deep within her.
I lower my hand to the gear shift.
And after a moment, she reaches out. Her slender fingers brush mine, and I let go of the shifter. She laces her fingers with mine and brings my hand back to her lap.
Chapter Eight
Lila
We’ve been driving in silence and my heart thumps in my throat, cutting off my air. There’s a tingling in my fingertips and toes, and I’m lightheaded. An unsettling sense of my soul departing from my body has me all sorts of messed up, and I’m glad Fredrick is just letting the quiet continue.
But now, as we weave through the city in his car, I worry that a conversation is needed. “So, where are we going?” I ask, clearing my throat.
He doesn't answer. Instead, he pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine. I lean forward to look up at the building in disbelief. Neon lights pulse against the night sky, and the ground rumbles with music; but, I can’t make out the song.
I turn to him, wondering if this is all some weird joke.
