Page 81 of Nineteen Letters

“What?” he says, when he notices me watching him.

“Nothing.” I bring my coffee cup to my lips to avoid saying more.

“Can I ask you something?”

His eyes leave the road briefly, landing on me. “Sure. You can ask me anything.”

“Did my poor driving have anything to do with my accident?”

“Your poor driving?”

“Yes, Christine said I was a terrible driver, like her.”

I see him trying to suppress a smile as he speaks. “In the beginning, you were pretty bad, but you got better over time.”

“So, my accident had nothing to do with my driving ability?”

He exhales a large breath before he answers. “You ran a stop sign, but the weather was terrible that day, and visibility was poor.”

“The accident was my fault?” My eyes widen and my mouth gapes open.

“Yes.” His gaze darts in my direction, before focusing back on the road. “Yes, it was.”

“Was anyone else injured?” I feel incredibly selfish for not knowing this, or asking before now.

“The other driver suffered minor injuries, but basically walked away from it unscathed.”

“I see.”

“His car T-boned the side of yours, so you took most of the impact.” He reaches across the centre console and grabs hold of my hand. “It was an accident, Jem. You were a good driver.”

We’re silent for the rest of the drive. He doesn’t let go of my hand, and I’m thankful.

Chapter 25

Braxton

“You made me breakfast?” Jemma asks with surprise the next morning as she climbs the back steps onto the deck.

When I dropped her off yesterday, after visiting my dad, she said she would probably see me this morning after her run. So, I took the chance and bought a few of her favourite things, just in case.

I set the table the way she used to like it. I miss sharing life with her … even the mundane things I once took for granted. The nights are the hardest; I still have trouble sleeping without her beside me.

“I sure did. Muesli, yoghurt and fresh fruit. The breakfast of champions is what you used to call it.”

“Wow. I never eat like this at Christine’s. She usually makes me toast and eggs.”

“Occasionally we’d have bacon and eggs on the weekend, but you were the one to cook them.” I pull out her chair for her.

“It looks delicious. And really healthy.”

“You were always the healthy one in this family.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she says, laughing. “I know all about your sweet tooth, Mr Spencer.”

“Guilty as charged,” I reply, smiling.

“How do you stay so … umm … trim?” I see a slight blush cross her cheeks as she speaks.