Cross Country Hearts by Suzanne August
Three
“My mother is going to kill me!”
“Who doesn’t have a spare tire?”
That’s the first question King asks me when I reveal, moments after I’ve pulled onto the side of the highway, that I don’t have a spare tire.
Irritated, I bite out, “Lots of people don’t.”
I don’t want to hear what he says next, so I open the car door and get back in, but before I can close the door, I hear him say, “You should, though.” That’s followed by him muttering something about my driving skills, and I don’t have to hear him to know they’re not positive comments.
I slam my door.
But when I put the key in the ignition and turn, the engine doesn’t start. The passenger door opens, and King pops his head in. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to drive to the nearest gas station.”
“Are you sure that’s a smart idea with a flat on the highway?”
Ignoring him, I try turning the key one more time, and the engine, again, fails to start. I run a hand through my hair, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. This isn’t a huge problem. It’s fixable. This car isn’t that old, so there’s no way it could die now. Right?
“Great.” King sighs. “You couldn’t just keep your eyes on the road?”
I open my eyes and turn to glare at him. He’s not even sitting in the passenger seat. He’s still standing, leaning over, and peering inside the car with his head turned to the side. His expression is blank, but I can still tell from his tone that he’s not pleased.
The urge to insult him is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down and say instead, “Do you know anything about cars?”
“No.”
I swear.
“Not all guys know how to fix cars, June.”
“Could you close the car door and stand outside?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I pull my phone from my sweater pocket and look away from him. His blank expression has melted into an annoyed one. “I’m calling AAA, and I don’t want them to hear me swearing at you to shut the hell up.”
I catch him rolling his eyes before he straightens and slams the car door. The red Honda moans as he leans his weight against it, hands in pockets, head bowed as he slouches over and kicks something with his feet. I sigh and dial the number.
~.*.~
We stand on the side of the highway for about half an hour while we wait for AAA. At first, I stayed inside the car, happy that it kept me separated from King, but after a while, without the air conditioner on to keep the car cool, I’m forced to step out.
King and I don’t say one word to each other while we wait. I almost feel his disapproval, and although he doesn’t say it, I know he’s passing judgment on me because I don’t have a backup plan.
When the AAA guy finally shows up, he arches an eyebrow at the flat tire and asks how it happened.
Jasper hooks his thumb in my direction. “She almost rear-ended another car. Must’ve jerked the steering wheel too hard.”
“That’s not what happened,” I respond, and I hope I sound calm because I definitely don’t feel it. For some reason, I find that what really happened is embarrassing, and I don’t even want a stranger to know that it’s my fault the tire is flat. “It’s just one of those times when the tire goes flat. That’s all.”
The AAA guy shrugs like he doesn’t care much about how it happened. “I’ll bring the car to the nearest mechanic’s. Sound good? I’ll give you a lift, too.”
As soon as the guy is out of earshot, I shoot King a death glare. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll blind you.”
“I only told him the truth.”
“Happily.”
Jasper King shrugs like the AAA guy did and walks away. That’s probably good because nothing positive was going to come out of that conversation. He walks away with his hands fisted at his sides, and I’m sure I must look like I’m in pain while trying not to yell at him.
The AAA guy must catch onto the fact that King and I are barely on speaking terms because he doesn’t try to make a lot of conversation with us while he drives off the highway and makes it to the closest mechanic’s garage. I thank him as soon as we’re there, and then Jasper and I have to sit in the waiting area while a mechanic looks at the car.
Which takes almost two hours. For the first hour, I keep myself busy by scrolling through my phone, making myself a cup of coffee, and watching the random crime show on the waiting room’s television. Jasper says nothing. He sits in his chair—the one furthest away from mine—and scrolls through his phone. The silence between us is pleasant and welcomed. I’m delighted he’s not talking.
For most of the next hour, I’m anxious. At this point, most of the afternoon is already over. If I’m lucky, we’ll get the car and be ready to go before dinner time.
“We’ll have to get dinner on the go and keep driving,” I say to King.
He doesn’t spare me a glance. “Fine.”
“Whatever,” I mutter.
I look at the time constantly. I’ve pulled on my hair so much that I’m sure I must look half-mad. I’m almost through another episode of the crime show when the mechanic finally graces us with his presence. And he tells me the car won’t be fixed until tomorrow morning.
What?
“Excuse me?” I say. I plant my hands on my hips and stare at the mechanic incredulously.
The mechanic, whose name tag reads Dwight, tries to give me a sympathetic smile, but it does nothing for me. “It won’t be ready until tomorrow morning.”
“Not now?”
“No. I’m sorry, Miss.”
“There’s nothing you can do?” I ask, and I hate how my voice comes out too high, pleading. My chest squeezes. What will my mother think if I tell her we won’t be in Florida by tomorrow night? “I was just driving it, and it was fine before the flat.”
Dwight lifts his shoulders, spreading out his hands with his palms up. “I’m the only mechanic here, and I’m good at what I do. I’m sorry, but it’ll be tomorrow morning at the earliest before it’s fixed—”
“I’ll pay more.”
“—so come back around noon.”
“Please, I’ll pay more,” I repeat. I try to sound calm and take deep breaths. I hope I don’t sound like I’m hyperventilating.
“Look.” Dwight’s words lose some of its edge, and his eyes soften, but I hate how it looks like he’s pitying me. “Your car isn’t the only one I’m working on. Come back around noon tomorrow, and it’ll be as good as new—well, as good as it was this morning.”
On my hips, my hands turn to fists. “But—”
“I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t sound sorry─more like he pities me. Before I can say something more, King suddenly grasps my elbow and moves to position himself in front of me.
I rub my elbow. Did he just touch me?
King says, “Thank you. I appreciate your help. Do you by any chance know where the nearest hotel is?”
“What?” I gape at him. There is no way we should be staying here tonight when we’ve barely crossed the border into Connecticut. “We can’t stay here. The car needs to get fixed as soon as possible.”
King doesn’t look at me. He’s still looking at the mechanic. “Ignore her.”
I’m too shocked—too angry—to form words. I sputter soundlessly.
The mechanic looks at me warily but addresses Jasper. “There’s a good motel priced cheaply across the road. There’s a diner next to it.”
“We’re not leaving here without the car,” I say. My fingers itch to tug on my hair.
Neither Jasper King nor the mechanic acknowledges that I’ve spoken. King says, “Thank you for your help.”
“King—”
When he finally turns around to face me, I stop short. His expression is annoyed, his mouth twisted. He does not look happy. Then he adds, to the mechanic even though he’s looking at me, “I’m sorry. It’s been a long and exhausting day for the both of us.”
The mechanic smiles again, though it’s smaller than the sympathetic one he tried to give me earlier. “No problem, kid. I understand.”
Deep inside, I know it’s not the mechanic’s fault, but anxiety possesses me. The thought of having to spend not just one night but two nights on the road with Jasper King is too much, and I see it in Jasper’s eyes too. I burst. “This is ridiculous! It shouldn’t take that long to fix something so simple on a car!”
But before I finish, Dwight is already through the door and back into the garage. I’m left with King, a receptionist who watched the entire exchange with open curiosity, and another woman who is pointedly reading a magazine and not looking at us, though she does eye us with a frown as King pulls me out of the shop.
“What the hell?” I jerk my arm from King’s grasp and take a step away from him, seething. “What was that, King?”
“He’s the mechanic. He knows what he’s talking about, June,” he says, his voice almost as cold as his stony, unamused eyes.
He turns around before I respond, walking in the direction of the road, where on the other side sits—you guessed it—a small motel and an even tinier diner.
“I’m not staying in a motel here!” I yell at his back. I raise my hands to my head and try not to hyperventilate. “Not in Connecticut. We have to be in Jacksonville by tomorrow night!”
What does he do in response? Jasper King puts his hands in his jean pockets and keeps walking.
I run after him. “Stop it. We’re not staying there!”
He stops at the crosswalk and presses the button for us to cross. “Yes, we are.”
“No, we can’t,” I say. I’m fuming, but more than that, that familiar anxiety is pooling at the bottom of my stomach again. This can’t be happening. I have no idea how my mother will react when I tell her, and I hate not knowing.
“It is, June. You’re going to have to suck it up.”
“King.” I grab for his arm, but he moves away from me quickly before I reach him. The lights on the road turn red, and in the next second, the signal for the crosswalk turns green. He starts across the street, and I’m forced to follow. “My mother is going to kill me! Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost?”
He barely spares me a glance. “I was there when the mechanic told you how much it was going to be.”
“Yeah, and if we stay here tonight, we’re probably going to have to stay in a hotel for two nights!”
He says nothing.
I throw my hands in the air. “Dammit! Look at me! This is awful!”
King, without warning, stops walking. I almost collide with his back. He turns on me. “Stop freaking out over this, June! Just deal with it! It’s happened.”
He’s snapped. Those stone-cold eyes, his flushed cheeks, and his jaw set. He shouts, “I don’t want to be here with you just as much as you don’t want to be here with me!”
I gape, eyes wide. “Don’t shout at me!”
His shoulders hunch, and he takes a deep breath. “You need to live with the situation.”
“Maybe I could live with this if you weren’t here, King.”
His jaw clenches harder. “For the last time, my name is Jasper. Call me by that, okay? Also, like I said a second ago, I don’t want to be here with you, either. I definitely don’t want to prolong this trip, but I’m sucking it up and living with it. You should just shut up and deal with it, too.”
I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest. Fine. This is happening, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “I’ll only live with this on one condition.”
“And what’s that?”
I can tell he wants to keep shouting. His jaw keeps clenching and relaxing before clenching again. His eyes remain stone-cold. We still stand in the middle of the crosswalk, squaring off. I take notice that the signal to cross has turned red.
“As soon as we get to Jacksonville,” I begin, “we’re never speaking to each other again. Not even at my sister’s wedding, when we have to walk down the aisle together. Not even if we happen to see each other at future family gatherings.”
King actually laughs, and it’s full of dry humor. “Trust me, I have no problems with that deal. And June?”
“What?” I grit out. A car blares its horn at us.
“If anything, I should’ve painted you uglier in that painting I made.”
He turns his back to me and walks the rest of the way to the other side of the street. He pulls a cigarette box out of his pocket and pulls one out, bringing it up to his mouth.
I’m still seething, watching his back, as someone shouts, “Get out of the road!”
I walk the rest of the way, back straight, hands fisted. My chest heaves from anxiety or anger, probably both. I don’t feel any better about the situation, despite the deal we just made.