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“I heard a little about that, but—”
She finishes wiping her nose. “There are no buts, Fury. You heard it, and now you know about it. And that fucking sucks because it’s a private matter I didn’t want anyone knowing about.”
“Jesus, Zara, you think I’m gonna go around spreading that shit everywhere? I’m not. And to be really fucking honest, I don’t care if you had an abortion or even if you had two of them. That’s your business. Not mine. Consider it forgotten.”
I’m blessed with silence for a few moments before she says, “Are you close to your mother?”
“No. She died when I was nineteen.” I have no fucking idea why I answer her question.
“Were you close before she died?”
“No.” The last thing Zara wants to hear is how my father ensured that neither my brother or I were close with our mother. About how he beat her so often she spent most of her days in bed just trying to survive. I wanted to be close to her, but my father stole that from me. And then, after he was gone, cancer made sure I never had the chance.
She shifts in her seat so she’s sitting sideways watching me. Her tears have slowed, and she seems to have calmed down a little. “I had the abortion a month ago. Mum and Holly are the only ones who know about it. She’s been supportive every step of the way, but now she’s pushing me to talk about it with a psychologist, and I don’t feel ready for that. We just had the biggest fight we’ve had in years.” More tears fall down her cheeks. “I said some awful things to her.”
“We say things in the heat of the moment that we don’t always mean. It’s what families do.”
“Yeah, but it just feels like everything in my life is turning to shit. Things were going so well last year, but this year…. This year has sucked.” When I don’t say anything to that, because I don’t have anything useful to say, she asks, “Do you have any other brothers and sisters besides the one who has the daughter?”
“No, just the one brother. And no, we’re not close either.”
Her lips pull up slightly at the ends. “Look at you, getting good at sharing.” She shifts again, bringing her legs up so she’s cross-legged on the seat. “So it’s just you and your dad then?”
“Christ,” I mutter, dropping my head back against the seat again and exhaling. “You’re gonna hound me with questions now, aren’t you?”
She surprises me when she shakes her head and says softly, “No, not if you don’t want me to.”
Something tells me she needs this. She needs the distraction from thinking about her problems. “It’s just me. Both my parents are dead.”
Zara might be young and she might be far more curious about shit than I prefer people to be, but she’s perceptive. Instead of bugging me for more information about my family, she says, “I’m sorry your niece lives so far away. I get the feeling she’s the one you probably miss the most.”
I’m not much of a talker, and this conversation has gone on long enough. I hold out my hand again. “Pass your keys.”
“I’m fine. I can drive myself home.”
“No, I told your mother I’d get you home.”
“Honestly, I’m—”
She has no intention of giving me the keys, so I lean across her and grab them out of the ignition myself. Not one of my best ideas. It put us too fucking close.
Ignoring her protests, I exit the car and walk around to her side. Opening the door, I lift my chin at her. “Out. I’m driving.”
“How do you intend to get home?” she asks once she’s out of the car.
“I’ll walk.”
After one last long look at me, she walks around the car and gets in the other side. As we strap our seat belts in, she says, “I just added another tick in the ‘not an asshole’ column.”
I start the car and reverse it. “This is for your mother. I owe her.”
“Oh, so the debt is repaid now, is it?”
With my hand firmly on the gearstick, rather than on her leg where I’d prefer it, I nod. “You could say that.”
She faces me, placing one leg up on her seat and crossing it under her other leg. I glance sideways as she moves and catch an eyeful of cleavage. Gripping the gearstick harder, I face the road again.
Fucking keep your eyes on the road.
