Chapter 19
MYLES
Emma sleeping in my car isn’t exactly something I had on my bingo card for this year, or ever. I have to keep reminding myself I’m not imagining it. She’s huddled up with her head falling forward with every turn.
Leave it to Emma to fall asleep in the most inconvenient places. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I were her, but she told me once she can’t control it. Her brain is always running and the second she stops moving to let herself relax, she falls asleep. It’s like clockwork.
I, on the other hand, have to have my routine. I need my bed and the hum of my fan overhead to fall asleep.
Emma’s head falls forward again, hanging in front of her like she’s one step away from suffocating herself.
Reluctantly, I reach over and push her head back until it’s resting on the side of the door. Not two seconds later it’s hanging down again.
I huff, holding her head in place.
Why am I doing this? If she wants to sleep in an uncomfortable position, I should let her. She deserves it.
I think back to the way I wanted Emma to come back to me after what had happened, and she never did. She never apologized. She never even said hi to me. It was like she’d thrown me away, and I meant nothing to her.
She grabs my hand.
My stomach flips, and lightning shoots up my arm.
Her eyes are still closed, but her fingers wrap around mine. My body goes numb. Does she know she’s touching me? Why haven’t I pulled away? Why am I searching her face to try and figure out what she’s thinking?
Her expression is soft, peaceful. She’s still pretty even though I don’t want to admit it.
She was always pretty, but now she’s grown up.
Her brows are more defined and her cheeks have lost their fullness from when she was little.
But despite how different she looks, I can’t help but wonder if the girl I cared about is still in there somewhere.
The girl who was happy and loved life. What happened that made her change and stop caring about others?
A loud honking sound brings my attention back to the road. I’m swerving in the other lane.
I jerk my hand away from Emma, causing her to slam her head against the window, and yank on the steering wheel.
Emma’s eyes fly open as she screams. “What happened?”
I straighten the car, but my heart is thumping a thousand beats per second. I almost killed us all because I was staring at her face. What is wrong with me?
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Did you forget how to drive?”
I don’t think she realizes I touched her, and I’m not about to confess to it. I have a feeling it’s the last thing she wants. Even though she’s next to me, it doesn’t feel like she really wants to be here.
“I, uh—there was something . . . on the road.”
“No, there wasn’t.”
“Yes, there was,” I say.
Her eyes narrow. “Do you realize how red your face gets when you lie?”
I think that only makes it redder. I can feel it from my chin to my ears, a hot flash heating up by the second.
“I know how to drive,” I say.
“If you say so.”
“Hey, you’re the one who forced me to drive you. It’s not like I wanted to.”
“I didn’t want to, either. I just didn’t want you—” She stops herself.
“Didn’t want me to what?”
“I didn’t want you around Mallory,” she says.
There she goes on about Mallory again like she did when she attacked me. “Not this again. I’m not going to do anything to Mallory.”
“I don’t believe you.” She says it so fast I don’t think she’s even acknowledging what I’m saying. She’s already made up her mind and there’s no changing it.
“You said you can tell when I’m lying. I won’t hurt Mallory. Now look at me. Am I lying?”
Her eyes search me and her jaw clenches.
“I’m not lying, am I?” Sure, Mallory isn’t my favorite person right now, but I’d never hurt her.
“But you do,” she mumbles.
She is beyond frustrating. “How could you possibly know that?”
“I saw you.”
“When?”
Her mouth hangs open but nothing comes out. She gestures as she thinks of a response. “It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“Why? You aren’t going to tell me you’re from the future or something?”
Her mouth slams shut and she crosses her arms.
“You can’t be serious? It’s finally happened. You’ve officially lost it.”
“You don’t know anything,” she whispers, looking out her window again.
“I know that much. I’m about two thousand percent sure you aren’t from the future.”
She stays quiet, not replying.
I laugh because it’s ridiculous. She’s always had a vivid imagination, but this is too much. “Do I need to drive you to a doctor? Do we need to see if you have a tumor or something that’s affecting your brain—”
There’s a notification on the car’s dash that steals my attention. “Great, I’m almost out of gas.”
“What do you mean? There’s nothing around here.”
“I thought I could make it.”
Her glare intensifies, aimed at me like a dagger. “You have got to be kidding me. You thought you could make it? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“We’re almost to Lancaster.”
“How close?”
“Like five miles,” I say.
“Will we make it five miles?”
“We’re about to find out.”
Emma slumps back into her seat, dragging her hands down her face. “I can’t believe this.”
“It’s your fault.”
“My fault? You’re the one who didn’t stop for gas.”
“You’re the reason I’ve driven all night long. If it wasn’t for your absurd ideas, we wouldn’t be here in the first place. We’d be in bed.” I choke. “That’s not—I, uh—not in the same bed. You’d be in yours, and I’d be in mine.”
Her eyes bug out of her head. “Oh, my word. Just stop talking and drive.”
I do because my last sentence haunts me. Why did I have to say something so embarrassing? If I’ve moved on, why does she make me tongue-tied like I’m still the fourteen-year-old boy who couldn’t exist without her?
I keep focused on the road ahead, using my phone to light my path even though I know it’ll drain my battery.
The next few miles are quiet. Emma doesn’t speak and I’m too scared to. I know I’ll only say something foolish.
Then the engine sputters as if it’s coughing, and I take my foot off the gas. I coast to the shoulder of the road, letting it roll to a stop.
“We’re out of gas.”
I continue to stare forward. I can see the tops of buildings ahead, but it’s still far. “Yup.”
“What do we do now? Should I push your car again?”
“No, we’re still at least a couple miles away.”
I let my head fall back, hitting the chair. I know what I have to do, but I don’t want to do it. I’m exhausted and emotionally drained. Yet, I open the door.
“What are you doing?”
“I have to walk to a gas station.”
She dives toward me and grabs my shirt. “You can’t just start walking.”
“Yeah, what else are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there’s someone we can call.”
I roll my eyes. “Did you forget we’re hours from home?” I pull her hand off. “It won’t take that long.”
“Okay,” she says, but she seems doubtful.
I leave the keys on the seat. “Lock the car while I’m gone.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. I don’t want my car getting towed.”
“But—”
“It’s not like I’m going to walk back home and find Mallory.”
She shuts her mouth and glares. “Fine.”
I step out of the car onto the empty road. I’m not that worried about my car being towed, but I need a break from her. I want time to clear my head and ignore all of the chaos from the last few days. It’s getting to be too much.
I don’t know what to do with her. I can’t ignore her, but I can’t be around her either.
I feel like a toy being thrown around, and I don’t understand why she had to choose now of all times to mess with me.
There’s already enough on my mind with baseball and Mallory.
I’m almost four hours away from home and I still have to figure out how to get back in time for my game.
The minutes drag by. My legs cramp and my stomach growls as I near the town. By the time I get there, I’ve been walking over an hour. I wonder what Emma is doing back in my car. I’m not sure I should trust her alone, but then again, there’s no gas so it’s not like she can do much harm.
There’s a gas station on the edge of town and I gravitate to it like a bug to a light. It has a tall orange sign with the gas prices lit up, but the pumps seem old and rundown. It looks like it’s been here for decades, but I’m not about to walk to another gas station.
There’s a large bus parked in front of it, and the gas station seems fairly busy at such an early time of day.
I wander inside, find one of those red one-gallon gas cans, and pay for it. Then I walk to the pump and fill it up. The breeze blows through my hair, but also the gasoline smell into my face. I turn away, trying to breathe in air that isn’t tainted.
The can fills up quickly and I finish paying as I notice the people boarding the bus again. Then someone with dark hair and unmistakable eyes walks out of the gas station.
Emma.
Emma is walking out of the gas station. Her eyes are on her feet and she doesn’t see me.
My heart stills, dropping like an anchor.
The room slows down and it’s like I’m watching a movie as I watch her walk toward the bus.
It’s not possible for her to be here. She couldn’t have walked fast enough. She would’ve had to pass me. Maybe she convinced someone to drive her here, but . . .
Her clothes are different.
My hands start to shake as I notice she’s in her uniform. She wasn’t wearing that in my car, and she didn’t bring any other clothes with her.
I’m stunned. Too stunned to talk. Too stunned to move.
Slowly, I grab my phone and dial Emma’s number.
“What’s taking you so long?” she asks.
But the Emma in front of me isn’t on her phone. She’s getting on the bus and showing her ticket to the bus driver.
I drop my phone, completely numb. The door to the bus closes and Emma walks to the back and sits.
She can’t be here. It’s impossible, but she is. I’d know her face anywhere. No matter how hard I tried to forget her, she’s etched on my being.
It’s her.
The bus starts driving away and I panic.
What if Emma is really from the future? But she can’t be because that would mean—
I grab my phone and stuff it into my pocket. Then I make sure the lid on the gas can is tight before I take off running.
I run faster than I ever have before. What took me over an hour to walk takes me less than twenty minutes to run. I run with sweat dripping down my face and my feet burning. I can’t breathe, but I don’t stop.
I don’t stop until I’m back at my car, standing in front of it, panting like a dog.
Emma.
She’s sitting in the passenger side of the car, where I left her. She’s in the clothes I remember.
When she sees me, she gets out of the car. “What happened to you? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
My hands shake as I step forward.
It can’t be true.
How is she in two places at once?
“Are you okay?”
This whole time I thought she was making up stories—lies—but she was telling the truth. My stomach turns inside out and my head grows light. “I’m not going to do it.”
“Do what?”
I swallow, still in disbelief I have to reassure her I’d never do what she claims I’ll do. “I’m not going to hurt Mallory.”
“Why are you bringing that up ag—”
“I saw you.”
Her lips part and her eyes widen. She knows exactly what I mean even without me elaborating. But her face doesn’t ease. There’s a sadness in her eyes that won’t go away, and I don’t know how I missed it until now. They lack the sparkle that used to shine with every one of her smiles.
My hands are in fists at my side because I’m shaking so much. I’m scared and confused, but I know she isn’t lying. “What did I do to Mallory?”
She stares back, not replying for a moment, like the shock of the situation hasn’t worn off. Then she says, “You pushed her off the Oakland bridge.”
It can’t be true. I’d never do that. “When?”
“It happens tonight.”
I tug on my shirt, brain spiraling as I try to wrap my head around the idea, but it doesn’t make sense. There’s no world where I’d do something that awful. “I won’t do it.”
She doesn’t say anything.
I walk up to her with desperation. “How can I convince you I won’t hurt her?”
She slowly meets my gaze. “Don’t leave my sight.”