Chapter 4
Grace
Danny is blasting the multi-zone heat on full power.
I keep turning up whatever soft rock is on the radio in an attempt to drown out the cabin air settings, and now…
well, it’s so loud in here. It’s like I’m trapped in a hot elevator with the Red Hot Chili Peppers screaming Californication directly into my ears. It’s not even their best work.
I’d rather have my entire patient list consist of only tiny chihuahuas than be in this car for another minute. I check the time again. Was he lying when he said he lived in New York? I’m almost positive we’ve been in this car for eleven billion hours.
Danny, meanwhile, is driving under the speed limit. Under. The. Speed. Limit. In New York City! Is he trying to get me murdered by a road warrior? Is this revenge? He keeps glancing over, checking on me, as if I will fall out of my seat and tumble into the East River.
Danny coughs loudly, like he’s trying to get my attention, but I’m too distracted by other things.
Namely, his hands, which are on ten and two like a teen driver taking the practical part of their licensing exam.
He was nowhere near this cautious growing up.
Danny was such a wild driver that pedestrians would’ve been better off walking in the middle of the street when he was on the road.
In cars with good drivers, the stereo dash has the most wear and tear.
In Danny’s car, the “Oh Shit!” ceiling handle was hanging on by a thread, covered in my claw marks.
I smile and think about how his mom gave him an angel figurine to keep in his car, like that would save him from himself.
“Hey, how’s Janie?” I ask him.
Danny holds his hand up to his ear. “WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”
“How is YOUR MOM?” I yell, before realizing he’s messing with me. Oh, fuck him.
He smirks and ever so slightly turns down the volume knob. “She has a son in the league who pays for all of her premium movie streaming services, how do you think she’s doing?”
A genuine smile spreads across my face. “Janie always did love watching the same rom-com in different fonts. Which Christmas movie was her favorite this year? Was it the one where the city boy ditched his successful fiancée to go head up his family’s cookie factory in the middle of nowhere?
Or was it the one where the city girl ditched her successful fiancé to go head up her family’s cookie factory in the middle of nowhere? ”
Danny’s laugh booms over both the Chili Peppers and the hurricane winds from the cabin air. “I think the latter. She went back to my sister’s before the final whistle to avoid traffic. I’m not typically in the mood to socialize after a losing game. But she’ll be over tomorrow morning.”
He sighs. “So, am I allowed to turn down the radio now, or am I suffering the rest of this trip?”
I scoff as he lowers the volume. “Oh, you’re suffering?” Tugging on the neck of my sweatshirt, I swipe a bead of sweat trickling down from my hairline. “A chicken could lay an omelet in here.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Wow. I’m sorry for being too considerate, Gracie. In case you aren’t aware, it’s snowing outside. You’re not even wearing a coat. It’s like you’re asking for hypothermia.”
“What I’m asking for is to evacuate this car,” I mutter.
“Besides,” he continues, “it’s nice and toasty in here.”
“I feel like I am a piece of toast right now, Danny.”
Shit. We pull up to a red light and he turns to face me. Pure joy flashes across his face, eyes sparkling with delight.
“Don’t be weird about it,” I groan.
“What do you mean? Me, Danny, be weird about what?” He grins like he just won Offensive Player of the Year. “If anyone’s weird, it’s you, Gracie.”
I let out a big breath and focus on the miniscule gap between his two front teeth that he can’t stop flashing. This man is happy to see me.
If he thinks it’s strange that I showed up after ten years of mutual silence without warning, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he cuts me off every time I try to mention it. In a way, it’s almost like he had prepared for it somehow.
Danny may want to catch up like old times, but I’m here for one reason only: to deliver the crumpled letter currently burning a hole in my pocket.