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Her head snaps toward me and her wide eyes flip back and forth between mine like they’re searching for something.
“How could you know that?”
“Milo may have mentioned something,” I admit, knowing full and well that I’m throwing my friend under the bus.
“Milo,” she shakes her head slowly, “the big mouth.”
“It’s not his fault. I asked him to tell me.”
“So, you know him?” she asks cautiously, and I hate to think that I’ve somehow betrayed her trust.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
She cuts her eyes in my direction, and I know she sees the fire burning inside of me at the mention of Mateo’s name.
“How?” It’s all she asks.
“I’d rather not get into all the details right now, but he sold to the guy who was responsible for the accident the day that my brother died.” Saying those words out loud never gets easier, always feeling like a lie on the tip of my tongue, something my brain just hasn’t accepted yet.
She’s silent for a moment before reaching out and taking my hand and hers, hers much smaller than mine, and gives it a light squeeze.
“I’m really sorry about your brother, Bodhi. I saw it on the news that day, but I had no idea of Mateo’s involvement.”
“No one does,” I say.
“Well then, how do you?” she asks hesitantly.
“Tommy had suspicions about one of the drivers, and Mateo’s name came up in conversation once. I did enough digging on my own to confirm my suspicions, but there was never actually any proof. Nothing that the authorities could use, anyway.”
She slams her hand against the steering wheel, mirroring my frustrations.
“Fucking Mateo. He can’t keep getting away with this shit,” she curses, shaking her head.
“You’re right, but without proof, there’s not much anyone can do.”
“I know, it just sucks.”
“It does.” I trace my thumb over the back of her knuckles softly before saying, “Brothers. Am I right?”
She offers me a half smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, but says, “I guess we have more in common than I thought.”
“What? We both think I’m the superior driver?” I say jokingly, trying my best to lighten the mood, and she snatches her hand back playfully.
“Not even close,” and this time when she smiles, it’s real and I feel it in my chest.
“Your brother would be proud of you, you know that?” I say in all seriousness.
“Yours would be too,” she says, holding my stare.
We sit like that, unblinking and watching one another for thirty seconds or five minutes, I can’t tell, but when she clears her throat and pulls back in her seat, I take notice of just how close we had gotten in that span of time.
“Umm, I better get home. You’ve got a long day of traveling ahead of you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, at least the drive down to Clear Creek won’t be too bad in the early morning,” I say, leaning back in my seat and stretching my legs as far as I can.
“Clear Creek? That’s like eight hours from here, right?” She asks.
“Yeah, but we’ll leave about two-thirty in the morning, and I’ll sleep most of the way down there. Qualifying is tomorrow afternoon,” I explain.
