Chapter 10 #2
Bas was silent as we got onto the freeway, and I wasn’t really sure what to say.
He was clearly reeling from all he’d learned that morning, and I didn’t know of any way to make it easier on him.
I realized in that moment that I’d felt a little superior, knowing that Bas was spending most of his time with me.
Like I’d gotten away with something—especially since everyone believed that he was in love with Lou, and I knew that wasn’t the case.
But as the silence lengthened, I started to understand that I didn’t really know him, not the way my cousins and Lou did.
I’d had his attention for the past week, and we’d started something that I thought might last—but they’d been his best friends for years.
They probably knew why Bas hadn’t been home since he was seventeen.
That he’d had foster brothers. That his foster mom had died.
They would’ve known what to say to him.
Hell, they’d probably offered to go with him to Portland, and he’d turned them down, but he hadn’t felt comfortable telling me no when I was sitting outside his house like an absolute idiot.
I felt out of place, sitting next to him in the truck. Like I shouldn’t have been there. Like I’d witnessed something that he didn’t want me to see.
A lump formed in my throat as I stared out the windshield.
“I’ll go back in the next couple of weeks,” Bas said half an hour later. “Go through the house and the garage, decide what to get rid of and what to save.”
“Good idea,” I replied, barely able to keep my voice even. “There’s no rush, right?”
“Sorry we didn’t get lunch.” He glanced at me. “You wanna stop somewhere on the way back?”
“No, I’m good.” I wrinkled my nose. “Not really hungry yet.”
“All right.”
We barely spoke for the rest of the two-hour drive.
I turned the radio on but hardly heard it.
I wasn’t sure how to get back to the ease we’d had before.
Bas was uncomfortable—maybe embarrassed by what I’d witnessed or annoyed that I’d been there at all—I couldn’t tell.
I just wanted to be anywhere but stuck in a truck with him or, alternately, sitting on his couch while he brought me a beer, all of the awkwardness forgotten.
“If you just go to your place, I’ll drive the truck home,” I told him as we pulled into town. “That way you’re not stranded at my parents’ house.”
“I can get a ride home,” he offered.
“No, it’s okay.”
We parked in a spot a few yards from his front door, and he glanced at me before leaving the truck running and unbuckling his seat belt.
“Thanks for coming with me today,” he said after a moment. “Probably not what you signed up for.”
“I didn’t have any plans,” I replied with a shrug. “I was just there for whatever.”
He nodded and leaned over to get his stack of clothes and paperwork off the floorboard.
“I’ll text you later?”
“Sounds good,” I said cheerfully, my heart in my throat.
I was relieved when he leaned over to kiss me goodbye, but my stomach sank when it was just a quick peck on the lips. He got out of the car and closed the door, so I scooted across the seat.
I was leaning down, trying to move the seat up so I could reach the pedals, when the door opened back up again.
“Fuck this shit,” Bas said, reaching past me to turn off the truck and pull the keys out of the ignition. “Grab your bag.”
“What?”
“Come inside,” he ordered, his gaze searching my face. “Let’s salvage this fucked-up day.”
“You sure?” I asked carefully.
“Baby, this has been the worst day I’ve had in fuckin’ years.” He winced. “I wanna end it inside you. So, we can drive this back to your pop, and I’ll bring you back here on my bike, or you can just stay, and we’ll bring it back later. Stay.”
“Okay,” I agreed, sagging in relief.
“I’m sorry for that shit back at the house,” he said, still standing in the door. “Findin’ my room the same as I left it was a mindfuck. Took me a minute to get my head on straight again.”
“It was a lot,” I agreed again.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for my hand.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when we went into his apartment, but it definitely wasn’t for him to order in Greek food for us to eat while we cuddled on the couch and watched The Lord of the Rings.
Two extended-cut movies later, it was dark outside, Bas was in the bathroom, and I started gathering up my stuff.
“I need to bring the truck back before my dad sends out a search party,” I announced as he jogged back down the stairs. “I’m surprised he hasn’t called yet.”
“You wanna stay here tonight?” he asked, walking toward me. “I can follow you to your parents’ house and bring you back.”
I was still feeling a little off after the morning we’d had, but I nodded anyway.
Bas hadn’t kept his hands to himself as we’d watched the movies, but there’d been nothing sexual in the way he’d touched me.
It was comfort he’d been providing, both for me and, I think, for himself.
I wanted to come back. I wanted to strip off our clothes and not have to think about anything else but how good it was between us.
Honestly, I was a little desperate to convince myself that what we had was solid, at least in that small part.
Bas followed me out of the house, but he was a little bit behind me when I drove toward home.
I didn’t think much of it because he knew the way, and if I got there before him, I could say hello to my parents and thank my dad for letting us borrow the truck before I left again.
I was driving carefully because it was wet and dark outside, but there were barely any cars on the road.
When lights shone in the back windshield, I frowned. My dad’s truck wasn’t lifted, but it still sat pretty high, so lights coming from behind usually didn’t even register. I glanced at the rearview mirror and winced at how bright it was.
Slowing down a little, I waited for the car behind me to pass. If they were in a hurry, they were welcome to go around me. Except, they didn’t. They just continued following, far too close, with their bright lights shining into the truck.
I considered pulling over to the side of the road, but with everything so dark, I was afraid I’d hit a branch or something and fuck up the paint or the wheels on the truck.
Holding the steering wheel tightly in both hands, I continued toward home, cursing under my breath. It would’ve been so easy for them to go on their merry way and leave me to it.
I was relieved when they seemed to back off, letting more distance fall between us as we got further out of town. They must’ve finally realized that no matter how obnoxious they were, I wasn’t going to speed up.
I’d just begun to relax when suddenly the lights shone brightly in the cab again, and then I was flying forward in my seat, my face hitting the steering wheel with a sickening crunch.
My eyesight went dark as I instinctively slammed my foot down on the brake, but even without being able to see it, I could feel when the Chevy left the road.
I came to a stop perpendicular to the road, staring blearily into the dark forest beyond.
“Oh, my god,” I whispered, reaching up as I felt wet dripping off my chin. I pulled my hand away to find blood covering my fingertips. “Oh no.”
My dad was going to be so pissed. Cupping my hands under my face, I tried to catch the blood before it hit the upholstery.
“Harper?” Bas yelled from somewhere to my left. I couldn’t see anything beyond the illumination from the headlights.
“Oh, my god,” I whispered again, starting to cry.
He whipped open my door, and his face filled my vision, his eyes wide with fear.
“Are you okay?” he barked, looking me over. “Harp? Are you okay?”
“The truck,” I groaned. “Did you see that guy hit me?”
“Someone hit you?” Bas asked, his tone changing in an instant as he reached for my seat belt.
“They rear-ended me,” I replied, still trying to catch the blood. “I smacked my face on the steering wheel, and then I was in the fucking trees!”
“Whoa, slow down,” Bas ordered as I flung myself out of my seat.
“What an asshole,” I yelled, tripping toward the back of the truck. I got a blurry look at the tailgate and groaned. It was ruined. “My dad is going to fucking kill me.”
“You need to sit down, baby,” Bas said, lifting his phone to his ear as he helped me sit down in the muddy grass. “Stay here,” he ordered as he took off at a jog toward where he’d parked his bike on the shoulder of the road.
“Fuck,” I whispered, using my sweatshirt sleeve to press against the wound between my eyebrows.