Chapter 11 Ellis
ELLIS
Dove’s playlist had shifted into something upbeat and vaguely chaotic as G Flip’s “Worst Person Alive” blasted loud enough from the stereo to keep my thoughts from circling too hard.
I was still coming down from the shit show that was St. Louis.
The kid at Ted Drewes... my heart still tugged painfully at that one, and I swallowed roughly.
Liv on the bridge... that had been a lot. Especially in that brief moment where she’d looked like Alexis. Just standing there, and then falling. Falling.
Then there was the extreme getaway from the park ranger. I had been biting my tongue on saying the I told you so that had been waiting to fall from my lips.
I closed my eyes tightly, then reopened them and took a long, deep breath.
The windows were cracked just enough for the scent of incoming rain to cling to the air.
Dove looked relaxed behind the wheel, loose and confident, one thumb tapping the rhythm on the leather grip, the other hand resting casually between her legs.
I knew I didn’t look that cool when I drove. I was usually two hands on the wheel, back ramrod straight.
She was so cool. Calm. Collected. All the time.
And I was sitting here trying not to have a meltdown over not being in control, not being the one with the map, the one navigating which parts of the route we had to bypass and where we’d get back on again.
She drove a little too fast, in my opinion, and every now and then I caught myself pressing my brake foot into the footwell.
Behind us, Liv was narrating a game of Ad Libs, tossing out sentence prompts that Dove enthusiastically responded to. Liv had clearly climbed out of her stupor, the bridge serving as some kind of breakthrough for her. Too bad her closure had just unraveled my tightly sealed Alexis box.
“Okay,” Liv called out. “Give me a noun. No, not a boring one, do better, Dove.”
“Umm,” Dove said with a laugh. “I don’t know... moonbeam?”
“Good,” Liv declared with a clap. “Now an emotion.”
“Regret,” I muttered dryly, unable to stop myself.
“Perfect,” Liv said with a grin. “‘The moonbeam glistened off her regret as she realized—’ I’m sorry, I can’t. Ellis, you got something going on up there?”
I blinked at her through the rearview mirror. “What?”
“She means your foot,” Dove smirked, glancing at me before looking back to the road.
I looked down and felt heat crawl up the back of my neck. My foot was braced hard against the floor, toes pointed like I was preparing to launch myself from the car.
“I dunno, Ellis,” Dove began in a light, teasing tone, “if you keep pressing that imaginary brake, you’re gonna punch a hole through the floor.”
The heat that had been building on my neck bloomed across my cheeks. I pulled my foot back. “Um... sorry.”
Dove smirked again. “No worries. Just didn’t think it would take you this long to spiral from lack of control. I’m impressed.”
“I’m not spiraling,” I sputtered defensively, the lie tasting like vinegar on my tongue.
Liv snickered behind us, and Dove’s smirk remained fixed in place. She reached for the volume knob and turned the music down just a fraction.
Then the car lurched.
A loud pop cracked through the air like a gunshot.
“Shit!” Dove cursed, reacting quickly and calmly, slowing us down and easing the Mustang toward the shoulder.
“What was that?” Liv asked, alarm in her eyes as she peered over our shoulders.
“I’m guessing a flat tire,” I muttered with a groan, already unbuckling my seatbelt as Dove shut off the engine.
The air felt wet as I stepped out of the car. I looked up, my stomach tightening at the sight of charcoal clouds that had seemingly swallowed the sun. A cool breeze was picking up, and I bit my lip with worry before circling the car to check the rear tire, hands on my hips.
Dove was already crouched beside it, nodding. “Yep. She’s flat.”
I stared at it helplessly and wrung my hands together. “So... so we call roadside, right?”
Dove straightened and looked at me incredulously. “Ellis, we’re in, like, the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Roadside will take hours. We can change it ourselves.”
I made a face and blinked at her.
“You—you can change a tire, right?” Dove asked carefully.
“Um,” I squeaked anxiously. “No, not really. Um... can you?”
Dove shot me a look that could peel wallpaper. “Yes, I can change a tire. It was the first thing my grandmother taught me, before I even got the keys to learn how to drive.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed. “Um... well, I think everything you need is in the trunk?”
“The questioning tone in your voice does not make me feel confident,” Dove muttered grimly, heading around to check.
I watched as she removed our bags and began collecting things, muttering words like jack, lug wrench, emergency triangle.
She set everything she needed on the ground, and my eyes widened when she whipped off her oversized shirt and tucked it into the back of her pants. Her black sports bra stretched tight across her chest, and her toned stomach seemed to ripple as she knelt.
“It’s cold,” I found myself saying dumbly. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Yes,” she bit out, “but the shirt is too big, and I’ll get all tangled up in it.”
I watched as she worked, suddenly hyperaware of how she knelt, how effortlessly competent she looked as her hands moved fast but surely. The heat crawling up my neck suddenly had nothing to do with nerves or storm clouds.
“You’re staring,” Liv murmured beside me, shooting me a wink.
“Pft,” I sputtered. “I’m supervising.”
“Sure,” Liv muttered, low enough that only I could hear. “You sure you’re not picturing what it’d be like if she leaned over you like that?”
Something strangled caught in my throat. “Liv.”
She raised her hands in mock defense, but something twinkled in her eye... something I didn’t like. She glanced back at Dove and whistled low.
“This is very capable lesbian of you, Dove.”
Dove snorted as she worked. “Thanks.”
Thunder rumbled low in the distance.
And then the sky let go.
“Fuck!” I screamed, arms flying up as cold rain smacked into me like the heavens had decided I was overdue for a punishment bath.
Liv shrieked beside me before diving through the car window, despite not having an actual body to soak. She turned to face us, a grimace on her face.
“Shit!” Dove growled, pausing to wipe her face as water poured from her now-soaked hair. Her space buns were limp and dripping. “I’m gonna lose this damn jack in the mud if I don’t finish fast.”
Without thinking, I sprinted to the trunk and looked around.
My umbrella—still wrapped in its Velcro band—was thankfully sitting at the back.
Neon yellow and wildly out of place beneath the blackened sky, but I didn’t care.
I was relieved to see Dove had tossed our bags back inside after pulling out the tire-changing equipment.
I slammed the trunk shut and popped the umbrella open with a satisfying whoomp that barely rose above the pounding rain. Then I raced back to where Dove was crouched, still working furiously.
“Move over!” I shouted over the storm, rain slapping hard against the pavement.
She barely had a second to blink before I jammed the umbrella above her head, angling it awkwardly to shield her and the wheel as best I could.
“You’re going to get soaked,” she said, blinking rain from her lashes, expression slightly stunned.
“Too late,” I said dryly, already soaked through to the skin. She stared at me a second too long, mouth parted like she might say something, but thought better of it.
“Keep working,” I snapped. “This thing’s going to turn into a lake.”
She got back to it quickly, hands moving faster. The tire iron clinked against metal while I stood there, holding the umbrella, probably looking like a soggy idiot.
I glanced up and saw Liv’s face pressed to the glass, watching me with a grin. She pointed at Dove, then lifted her bicep and kissed it, before pointing at me and wiggling her eyebrows.
I snapped my eyes back to the tire.
Once Dove had the new one fixed in place, she gathered the tools and stood, panting slightly. I stepped back, still holding the umbrella above us both.
“All done,” she said, sounding breathless and proud. She grabbed the shirt she’d tucked into her pants and rubbed her hands on it, and I noticed they were now streaked with dirt.
We stared at each other for a moment, the umbrella between us sheltering just enough to feel oddly... intimate. Something fluttered low in my stomach, and her eyes searched mine before she spoke.
“Nice shirt,” she smirked. “Very National Geographic, if you ask me.”
I looked down with a frown, then gasped and spun around. My now-transparent top was doing me no favors in the department of decency, and Dove’s laugh echoed behind me as she hurriedly packed the tools into the trunk.
I quickly folded the umbrella and tossed it in the back, all the while holding my shirt away from my body as I rushed to the passenger seat. Rain now tapped loudly on the roof above us.
Liv cleared her throat. “Ellis, never hold an umbrella in the rain for someone you’re trying to deny you fancy. It’s practically a declaration of love.”
“Oh, shut up, Liv!” I hissed. “I don’t fancy her.”
“Okay,” Liv scoffed. “Tell that to your bright-red cheeks.”
Dove slid back into the car and immediately started it, flicking on the heater as she brushed damp strands of hair from her forehead. Mud streaked her leg, and a black stain still marked her wrist.
“I put the flat tire back where the good one was,” she told me. “We should look at getting it replaced as soon as we can, in case this shit happens again. Might need to special-order it, I’m not sure, but we could probably pick it up at one of our future stops.”
“Okay,” I murmured, holding my hands to the heater, still shivering.
“You need to change,” she said flatly, glancing over at me without missing a beat.
“What?” I blinked.