Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(32)

I long held on to the idea that my dad was involved in the accident somehow—the steering just cut out in the car. That shouldn’t happen. On dark nights, though, when I drank or when I got low, I’d wonder if I was just remembering it the way I wanted, making an excuse for my own failure.

Maybe I’m lying to myself because I can’t face it being my fault.

On the surface, it sounds crazy. Why would my father risk my life to get rid of Ellie? He liked her, even. From what I remember he was even on good terms with her dad. Whatever he said after the accident I’m sure Ellie would be fine from his perspective, if he was even thinking about that. I mean, we were just kids. He probably didn’t expect it to last.

I glance over at her and wonder how it couldn’t. We’ve only been awake for a short while, but it was a big breakfast, and I think I tired her out last night. She starts to droop and then finally her head rests on my shoulder and she starts to snore lightly, mumbling every once in a while. I try to take the turns gently, so as not to rouse her.

We pass into Ohio around three in the afternoon. I made up my mind when we left, I was going to drive all night, get us as close as we can get before we have to stop. In this car we’re not exactly inconspicuous, and they have to be looking for us by now.

I could get used to this. Ellie cuddles up to my arm and I let her lie there, careful not to disturb her when I have to work the stick shift. At some point I’m going to have to get some directions from her phone, or we’ll end up going in circles.

When she wakes up, it’s already getting dark. She yawns and sits up, wincing as she yawns again.

“It makes my mouth hurt,” she says absently. “Here.” She touches the corner of her mouth, where the scars pull at it.

“You want me to put the address in my phone?”

“Yeah.”

I rattle it off to her.

“It says thirty hours. Is that right?”

“Yeah it’s a drive. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

She shrugs and yawns again, her jaw quivering. “I don’t want to sleep my life away. I sleep too much.”

“Okay, hon. Where does it say we are?”

“Outside, um, Steubenville? I’ll give you directions.”

“Okay.”

I drive until the silence starts to bother me, buzzing in my ears.

“Do you still play guitar?”

Ellie flinches.

Jesus, Jack. You should know the answer to that already. Look at her hand.

“I can’t work the frets,” she says, flexing the fingers on her bad hand.

“You ever try playing the other way? Left handed?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t have a lefty guitar.”

“Could you? I mean if you held the pick in your left hand.”

Ellie looks down and works the first two fingers on her hand. “Maybe? I’m not sure if I could grip it. I might keep dropping it.”

“Didn’t they give you any therapy for your hand?”

“They wanted to cut my fingers off,” she says softly. “I wouldn’t let them. I begged and cried. I can’t not have fingers.”

I swallow, trying to figure out what to say until she laughs bitterly.

“Like it matters. What’s a couple missing fingers when half my f*cking face burned off.”

“Ellie—”

“Don’t lie to me, Jack. We both know you don’t want to look at the scars any more than anyone else does.”

I sigh. “No, I don’t. I hate them.”

She turns to me sharply, but I cut her off before she speaks.

“I hate what they do to you. I hate that you’ve been hurt. I hate that you’ve been locked up in a tower since I’ve been gone. I hate that you can’t do the things you want to do anymore. I hate to see you in pain and not be able to help.”

She settles back into the seat. “Whatever. What time is it?”

“Uh, seven by the clock, but I think it’s on daylight savings time.”

“We’ve been in the car for seven hours, and we have thirty to go?” She glances at her phone. “Twenty-nine?”

I sigh. “Yeah. Do you want to turn back?”

She wiggles her butt in the seat as she thinks. She always did that, wriggle while she was thinking. That’s why I liked having her do her homework while sitting on my lap.

“No,” she says.

I let out a slow breath.

“I still think you’re beautiful.”

“We need gas.”

I sigh and pull off at the first station I spot. Ellie wriggles into her hoodie, pulls the hood up over her face, and folds up in the seat, hugging herself. I start to use a card but think better of it, pull some cash from my pocket, and head into the station.

The cashier doesn’t even bother to look at me as I tell her to give me thirty on pump four. I’m going to have to do this a lot, I realize. The ’Vette may be a smooth ride, but she’s thirsty.

I lean back from the counter and grab a Mounds. Ellie loves Mounds. After I pump the gas I hand the candy bar to her, and she stares at it like she’s never seen one before.

“You…you remembered?”

“Yeah. We’ll get some real food soon. It’s going to have to be burgers again. Or maybe fried chicken.”