“I’m hungry,” I tell him. “We passed a diner earlier on the way to see Mom’s gravesite. Can we stop there and get some dinner on the way back?”
He snaps his head over to me and his eyes are wild with anxiety, sending my heart galloping right out the window. “No. We’ll hit a drive-thru on the way back.”
His head jerks back to the road and I glare at him. Whatever is going on inside his head is really starting to piss me off. “I don’t want to go to a drive-thru. I’m not necessarily eager to get back to the cabin. I need some more time away. Why are you in such a hurry to get back anyway?”
He shrugs his shoulders, feigning indifference, but he’s too stiff to pull it off. His lies are so easy to read. “I’m tired. We’re not going to the diner. McDonald’s or Taco Bell?”
“Brandon,” I snap, “what is wrong with you? I just told you I don’t want to go back right now. Why can’t you respect that? Don’t you even understand what kind of shit I’ve been through? That cabin is the last place I want to be right now. I want to go to the diner!” My voice is shrill and I’m seconds away from clobbering him for being an asshole.
His hand swings my way, causing me to flinch, and he points his finger at me. “We’re not going to the goddamned diner, Baylee!” he hisses, his eyes wild with fury. “Now get over it.”
I gape at him in shock.
There’s no way in hell I’m getting over it.
“Stop the truck,” I seethe and gather my purse in my lap.
He cuts his eyes back over to me and panic flashes over his features. “What? Why?”
“Stop the stupid truck!” I shriek. “I’m over it! I’m over how weird you’re acting and your constant lies. I can’t take it anymore! STOP THE TRUCK!”
The tires screech as he slams on the brake and pulls the vehicle over to the shoulder. As soon as it stops, I climb out and begin storming toward town. I can hear his heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel behind me as he follows me.
“Baylee, stop. Please,” he begs. The crack in his voice makes my heart ache but I ignore it and continue stomping away.
“Baylee!” His voice is sharp and his fingers bite into my bicep as he physically stops me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Whirling around in his grip, I stand on my toes and glare at him. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” I demand in a high-pitched voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Tell me what’s going on, Brandon. I know you’re lying to me too, just like everyone else. So just stop it. Fucking stop it. You were the one person I had left to count on to give me the truth and you’re evading me at every turn. I can’t lose you as that person. I’m out of here. If you’re going to lie to my face, I’m fucking out of here.”
The anger melts from his face as his chin quivers and pain seems to rip apart his features. He lets out a garbled sound and gathers me into his arms. “Baby,” he says in a hoarse whisper against my hair as he strokes my back. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to protect you from the authorities. They think you’re involved in his murder and I couldn’t let them take you away from me. Not again. I can’t lose you now after everything. You’re my girl and I love you. Things may not be the way they were before but I promise you we can fix this. I’m here until the very end for you, Baylee. Please tell me you can see this.”
He’s still babbling and only one word sticks out.
Murder.
Murder.
Murder.
I mean, I knew he was dead, my War. But for some reason, I still held onto a shred of hope he’d somehow survived. Deep down in the dark depths of my heart, I wanted to believe he’d lived. Yet he hadn’t. My War was completely over.
“Oh, God,” I sob and collapse in his arms.
He kisses my hair over and over again as he tries to soothe me. I inhale his familiarity and let it bring comfort to me. I’m a shuddering mess and all I can do is clutch onto his T-shirt to keep from hitting the gravel.
“Baylee,” he says in a thick voice, his own tears wetting my hair, “I swear to God I will love you and take care of you. Let me help you remember what we had. Remember our love.”
Love.
Love.
Love.
Another sob rips through me and he holds me tighter. The grief and stress from the past few days overwhelms me, rendering me weak. He seems to sense my breakdown because he slips an arm beneath me and picks me up. I curl up against his chest while he carries me back to the truck. Once he opens the door and sets me on the seat, his red, tearstained eyes are washing over me. His fingers find my chin and he lifts it so our eyes meet.