Page 10

Who did he give the flowers to?

Chapter 4

Thedriveisagony.Not just because I can't stop regretting my failure to reach the island and Chico's place, but because Jordan doesn't articulate a word the whole time. The occasional sigh or exhale leaves him, nothing more. We trail the tow-truck for miles. Fifteen minutes of awkward silence.

As quiet as we both are on the surface, my mind won't shut up. It runs itself in circles with ramblings about what I'll do about Dezmond. I'm fixated on it. The only thing that breaks up my inner panic is the clinging whispers about Jordan. I can't shake the thoughts about him when he's sitting right beside me, spreading his delicious warmth and scent in the car's small space.

He must have shaved recently because I detect the piney scent of shaving cream. There's also lingering floral smells I suspect are from the bouquet I made. The rest … sawdust, wood, and ocean salt … is unique to him. I'm sure that if he took a shower those are the scents that would remain.

“Lorikeet,” he says, and I jump. “Why were you out there tonight?”

“Where, the bridge?” I ask, playing stupid. Glancing over, I see his jaw is jutting forward like he's biting down. His silence saysdon't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.Looking back at my hands in my lap, I breathe out softly. “It's not important.”

“You expect me to believe that?” he chuckles dryly. “I watched you gunning your car at that bridge. Remember?”

“Okay. Then I'll clarify the way I did before, it's none of your business.”

“It must have been something big to make you risk your life.”

“I wasn't in danger,” I counter.

“Were you visiting friends? There's hardly anything on Coral Rock.”

“Yeah, speaking of, what wereyoudoing?” I ask, giving him a side-eye. “I mean, if you're interrogating me, it's only fair I do it back. Were you going to see someone? Was that what the flowers you bought were for?”

He keeps his eyes on the road, back to acting like a statue. “Something like that.”

“You don't like answering questions either, do you?” My voice gets sharper—I'm at my limit with people today. “Not a fan of someone digging into your life? Why not tell me everythingyoudid today, hm? Who were you hanging out with? Did you go to work, read a book, waste your time getting day-drunk in a bar like your son loves to?”

The danger in his voice is plain as day. “Watch yourself, little bird.”

“Why?” I scoff. “You don't get to tell me what to do. Your Dez's father, not mine, and I don't get the impression he listens to you either.”

Thecrunchof his hands gripping the steering wheel fills the air. The entire car rocks as he smashes the brakes, sending me forward, the seatbelt digging into my bruises from earlier. I put my palms on the dashboard with a surprised gasp.

Jordan sits very still, his shoulders hunched up. But when he talks next, there's no anger, just a cold detachment. “We're here,” he states, still looking out the window. Looking anywhere but at me.

I see he's right; the tow-truck has pulled into the parking lot at the front of the garage. I didn't notice where we were because the building is sitting in shadow. “They aren't open?” I ask as despair gives me insides a stomp. “Shit. I need my car fixed before I go home. Shit, shit, shit.” Jordan gets half a word out; I can't hear it, I'm busy thrusting myself out of his car to hasten towards the man in the tow-truck.

The driver takes one look at me in his side-mirror, reads my expression, and rolls his window down. “Bad news,” he says. “Want me to unload it here so the mechanics can look at it in the morning?”

“Can't you take it to another garage?” I ask desperately.

He scrunches his mouth so his patchy beard moves like the spines on a hedgehog. “Hate to tell you this, but no one is going to be open tonight. It's after seven.”

I push my palms to the outside edges of my temples. I'm trying to stop the throbbing that threatens to crack my skull. Turning in place, I scan the garage. The wide doors are shuttered to the ground. There are piles of tires with “Buy Two Get One Free!”signs on faded sheets of plastic, a few abandoned cars sitting on cinder blocks, but nothing with the hours listed. “If you leave it here, do you think they'll start on it early in the morning?”

The man shrugs. “Depends. Look, I gotta go to other call locations. Tell me what you want.”

What a question. The things I want can fill a list longer than his truck bed. “Leave it here,” I say, my voice flat out exhausted.

“You're sure?”

“It's as good as anywhere.”

He looks at me, then over my shoulder. I know Jordan is approaching just by the sound of his shoes on the ground. “How much do I owe for the tow?” Jordan asks.

I hear the driver answer but I can't focus. My mind is wandering down a hall of dark anxiousness. First Dez robs me, then he threatens me, then I pop a tire in my attempt to make things better. Everything is slipping out of my control.