Beautiful Broken Things(Beautiful Broken Things #1)(70)

‘You don’t get free reign to act however you want because you’ve had a rough time,’ Brian said. ‘The world doesn’t work that way.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ Suzanne’s voice was earnestly sarcastic. ‘That changes everything. I’ll be perfect from now on.’

‘For God’s sake.’ Brian’s calm exterior was faltering. ‘Do you have to make this so hard?’

‘Yes. Consider it payback for all those years I was being abused and you weren’t.’

The words sliced through the car, stopping my breath for a second. I watched Brian lift a hand from the wheel and wrench it through his hair.

‘I tried—’

‘Hey,’ Suzanne interrupted, her voice suddenly, disarmingly conversational, ‘remember when I was, like, nine or something, and you were sick and tired of all the yelling, so you locked yourself in your room? But I didn’t know you had? And I went running away from Dad and ran smack into your door? And I was crying for you, but you didn’t open it? Remember that?’

In profile, I saw Brian’s jaw clench so hard I could see the muscle twitch.

‘I do,’ Suzanne added, still in that bright, cheerful voice, like she was sharing a happy memory instead of one that was utterly devastating. When he didn’t respond, she reached out and poked his arm.

‘I was thirteen when that happened,’ Brian said, quiet and tense. ‘Thirteen. I know it’s life-fuckingly awful that it happened to you, but it was completely shit for me too, OK?’

‘I have stories from when I was thirteen too,’ Suzanne said.

I heard Brian let out a hrumph of frustration. ‘When did you get so bitter? Was it around the same time you started acting like some kind of delinquent?’

‘Oh, fuck you.’ Suzanne snapped, twisting in her seat to face the window, then changing her mind and turning back to him. ‘Maybe it was when I realized that you’re not some kind of hero?’

‘For God’s sake,’ Brian’s voice had suddenly got louder. ‘None of this is my fault, OK? I’m doing the best I fucking can.’

I was starting to feel panicky. The tension in the car felt like electricity sparking out of control from a wire ripped free from its moorings. It felt like it could catch at any minute and set us all aflame. The cars and lorries and coaches and buses roared past us, steady and controlled, while Suzanne and Brian battled in the front seats.

They’d both reached full volume now, Brian leaning back against his seat, one hand on the wheel, the other sporadically leaping up into the air to gesture wildly. Suzanne, her face twisted with rage and pain, both hands waving in the space in front of her as if trying to shape it into something she could control.

‘What is it you want?’ Brian was yelling, bashing his fist against the wheel for emphasis. ‘Whatever it is, you actually think you’ll get it like this?’

‘I don’t want anything!’

‘Right, sure. So you’re just going to act like a total lost cause until you become one? How’s that working for you so far?’

‘Lost cause?’ Suzanne threw herself back in her seat, her fingers scrabbling at her seat belt. ‘Fine. Fine.’

Brian’s head jerked between her and the road. ‘Stop it. What’re you doing? Sit down.’

‘Why wait?’ The seat belt pinged back into its casing. ‘It’s going to happen anyway. Might as well make it interesting.’ From the back seat I saw her fingers move towards the door handle.

Brian’s free hand had reached for her, his fingers clenched tight around her arm. ‘Calm the fuck down, Suzanne. Sit down.’ I watched his other hand lift from the wheel and scramble at the buttons beside it, locking her door from his side. I was too scared to move, clutching my seat belt tight to me as if it would save me when we got steamrolled by a lorry.

‘Get off me!’ Suzanne tried to wrench herself free from him, pulling at the door handle. ‘Stop trying to act like you care.’

Brian looked properly at her. ‘Of course I—’ The car swerved, a dozen horns sounded. Despite myself, a strangled shriek of panic escaped my throat. ‘Shit.’ He let go of Suzanne, put both hands on the wheel and guided the car across the left lane into the hard shoulder.

When we stopped, I realized just how much my heart was hammering. My hands, released from their death grip on my seat belt, were shaking.

But it still wasn’t over.

In the sudden silence of the stopped car, I saw Suzanne’s panicky rage flame. ‘Open my fucking door, Brian.’

‘Just calm down.’

Suzanne’s fist slammed against the door frame. ‘Open it.’

Instead, Brian opened his own door and got out, closing it behind him and hurrying around the car to open Suzanne’s. He caught her as she lunged out, his hand closing securely over her arm, pulling her away from the road to the grass beyond. I opened my door and watched them argue, listening to the words that carried in the wind.

‘Why won’t you just let me . . . ?’

‘Worried about you . . .’

‘I just hate . . .’

‘What about . . . ?’

I let my feet touch the tarmac, my hand on the open door, wondering whether to go over and intervene. I didn’t really think Brian would ever hurt Suzanne, but how could I know for sure? What exactly was my role here? Because, surely, I had one.