Page 35

Shit, shit, shit. Get it together.

My foot slipped off the clutch, and the sound it made when it popped back up into its original position jolted both of us. Wes blinked a few times before pulling away.

“I’m just gonna…” he said as he used his thumb to motion back. I didn’t know what he was trying to say until he walked around the front of the truck and opened the passenger-side door. Waylon jumped in ahead of him and went to the small back seat.

Right. Got it.

“Okay,” he said. “You ready?”

Absolutely not. “Sure.”

“Put your right foot on the brake. When you start the engine, the clutch needs to be pushed all the way to the floor”—I pushed it in with my left foot—“and the gearshift needs to be in neutral.” He put his hand on top of mine, just as he had done when we drove to town, and moved the gearshift to neutral. “Good.”

“Can we…um…turn some music on?” I asked. I didn’tknow if it was the stick shift or Weston that was making me nervous.

“Yes, but you have to turn the truck on first.”

“Oh,” I said sheepishly. I hadn’t thought about that.

“Go ahead, then, turn the key,” he said. “Keep your foot on the clutch, though.” I did what he said, and the engine turned over. My nerves started to creep up my throat. “The steering wheel isn’t going anywhere, Ada.”

I looked at my hands and saw what he meant. The white-knuckle grip I had on the wheel was hard to miss. “Sorry,” I said, and tried to loosen them.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked. His voice was thoughtful. “It’s okay to be scared when you’re doing something new.” I didn’t answer. I didn’t really feel like diving into my ex-husband at this point, but apparently that wasn’t good enough for Weston.

“Are you still in neutral?” he asked. I nodded. “All right, take your foot off the clutch and the brake.” I did what he said, unsure where he was going with this. “Look at me.” I did. Weston’s green eyes were soft. “You’re probably going to fuck it up. A lot.”

Well, that was reassuring.

“But everyone does. There’s also no safer place to learn how to do this than right here. No one’s around. There are no other cars for you to hit or anything.”

“There are cattle, though,” I said.

“You think I would let you hit a cow?” he asked. That pulled a laugh out of me, and I shook my head. I don’t think either of us could handle the guilt of hitting a cow. “You’re going to kick so much ass.”

“Music?” I asked again now that the car was on. Wes opened the glove compartment and pulled out an aux cord.

“What do you like?”

I thought about it. “James Taylor,” I said. There was nothing more calming than James Taylor, right?

Wes laughed lightly. “I like the way you think.” I watched him scroll through a music app before he hit Shuffle on James Taylor’s greatest hits. “Fire and Rain” started playing, so we were starting off strong.

“All right, James on the radio,” he said, “left foot on the clutch, right foot on the brake, hand on the gearshift.”

I assumed the position. “Remember what I said about the clutch and the gas?”

“Ships in the night,” I said. I had to press on the gas and let off the clutch at the same time.

“All right, then, give it a go.” I put the gearshift into first, and heard Wes murmur, “Good,” and then started to let off the clutch and press the gas.

The truck shook and then went quiet.

“What just happened?” I asked.

“You killed it,” he said. “Which isn’t a good thing in this case. Put it in neutral again and start her back up.” I did what he said. “Now let off the clutch—slowly—and you should be able to feel that sweet spot we talked about.”

“The truck won’t die?”