Best Kind of Broken

40 Levi

I haven’t been in a car with Pixie since the night of the accident, and it all seems too familiar. My shoulders are tense and my knuckles white as they grip the steering wheel.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. For taking off after Charity died. I shouldn’t have left.” I clear my throat again because it’s starting to close in. “I should never have left you.”

She watches me for a long moment. “It’s okay. It’s not like I stayed by your side either.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Silence.

I inhale deeply and attempt to make light conversation. “So Ellen says you might transfer to NYU this fall.”

“Yeah. Maybe. If I get in. What about you?” she asks. “Ellen said you dropped out of college after the season ended and haven’t reapplied yet. What happened?”

Dropped out. That’s a nice way of saying it.

“Studying wasn’t exactly my top priority last fall, and I don’t know if I really want to return.”

A long lull follows as we stare at the dark road outside and the rain that blurs it. I manage to get her back to the inn without maiming her and slowly pull into a parking space. I don’t move to get out and neither does she, so we’re sitting in the dim light shining in through the windshield from the inn’s front porch. I can smell her lavender shampoo.

“Thanks for the ride,” she says, still not moving from the car.

I nod. “I’m sorry about everything tonight. Sorry I implied that you were mine. That was lame. I know you’re not anyone’s. I wasn’t trying to be a Neanderthal, I swear. I was just… God, I was pissed at Daren for trapping you in that car and scaring you like that and—”

“I’m glad you were there.” She smiles and shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry I hid my scar from you. That was… immature.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know why I pounced on you about it. It’s really none of my business.”

More silence. More rain.

She shifts again. “Do you still want to see it?”

I blink and then nod, even though the idea scares the hell out of me.

She slowly unties the dress cover thingy she has on and slips it down her shoulders until she’s wearing only her bikini top. And cutting a thick diagonal through her chest is everything I did wrong. Red and jagged, it looks out of place against the flawless skin of her breasts and stomach.

I can’t pull my eyes away from it. I can’t.

“Levi.”

I broke her. I broke everything.

My heart starts to pound in my ears.

“Levi,” she says again, and I meet her eyes. “I’m okay.”

“I’m so sorry.” My voice cracks as my eyes fall back to the scar. I can’t help myself as I touch a hand to her skin. I lay my palm flat against the center of her chest, my fingers in line with the diagonal, and feel her heartbeat pulsing beneath me.

She covers my hand with hers. “I’m okay.”

I stare at her small hand, covering mine, for a moment. Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, I gently slip my hand out from under hers.

She looks down and puts her hand on the door handle, biting her lip before looking back at me.

“And I am yours,” she says quietly. “Even when you don’t want me. I’m still yours.”

She exits the truck and walks inside the inn as rain continues to beat on the windshield.