WINDOWS DOWN, RADIO UP, wind billowing through my hair, I zoom down the country road towards Merom. There’s hardly any traffic as I make my way back to town after having dropped off a bunch of Delaney’s things at her parents’ house. Her mom and dad took us to lunch, her dad going on and on about the dairy industry and almost boring us to death. Still, being bored to death was a nice reprieve from everything else.
There’s no one to blame this thing with Walker on but myself. I should’ve taken his hints and left well enough be. Maybe I pushed him. Maybe I overstepped my bounds coming in after hours, regardless of my intentions. I was a willing participant and he’s entitled to his behavior afterwards. Just as I am mine.
“I don’t get it,” I mutter to myself, turning down the volume. The sappy song about true love and second chances is not doing me any favors.
I pilot the car around a big box lying in the middle of the road, wondering if it is some kind of analogy from the universe. Sometimes you have to go around stuff to keep going.
“I’ll go around him all right.”
Cornfields zip by as I step on the accelerator, my mind going just as fast around last night. The terseness of his tone. His initial refusal to look at me. The look in his eye when he did.
“Shit,” I groan, hearing a loud pop. The car lurches to the side as a thump-thump smacks against the pavement. Slowing the car as quickly as I can, I bring it to the shoulder. It sinks to the right.
Resting my head against the steering wheel, I try not to cry. “Lord, please help me.”
Turning off the engine, I get out into the warm afternoon sun. There’s nothing around but tall stalks of corn and high, puffy clouds as far as the eye can see. It takes all of five seconds to confirm a flat tire and to spot the nail sticking out of the rubber. Air gushes around the gouge making it impossible to limp it to the nearest gas station which is, if I remember correctly, miles away.
Leaning against the trunk, I slip out my phone and call Delaney. It goes immediately to voicemail.
“This mailbox is full and not accepting messages. Please try again later. Goodbye.”
“No,” I groan, stomping my foot against the dirt. A rock rolls down the shallow embankment and into a ditch.
Pulling up the text app, I shoot a message her way and hold my breath. The “delivered” tag doesn’t show and I wonder if she turned it off to take a nap to ward off the migraine she was getting like she said she was going to.
Another rock meets the toe of my shoe and joins the other at the bottom of the ditch. It’s littered with trash and weeds and another bunch of rocks I kick in too.
“Damn it,” I say to the corn. “Why can’t I just go freaking home?”
Looking both ways down the road, there’s no one in sight. I didn’t even pass anyone when I was heading out here.
“I’m going to die a horror show death.”
Tossing my phone from one hand to the other, I weigh my options. I can wait for someone to find me and hope they aren’t a serial killer and come before nightfall. I could hold my breath that Delaney wakes up and checks her messages. Nine-one-one is an option, although this isn’t an emergency and I would feel like a dick. Or I could call Walker.
“Ha,” I sigh, thinking about calling him. “I’d rather feel like a dick.”
Scrolling through my contacts, I see Peck’s name. Swiping on, I make it to the R’s before I go back. My finger hovers over his name. I gulp before I click on it. My breath holds while I wait for it to connect.
“Hey, Slugger,” he says after the first ring.
“Hey, Peck. I, um . . .” Looking around at the corn, my spirits cave. “I need some help.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I’m stuck out here on Route 9 somewhere between Merom and Honnerton and just got a flat tire. I don’t know who else to call,” I sigh.
“Did you call Walker?”
“Nope. I’d rather walk home.”
There’s a small chuckle through the phone. “So I shouldn’t tell him you have a flat tire and need me to come get you?”
“Absolutely not,” I insist. “Look, you said to call you if I needed anything and I—”
“I’m already in my truck,” he says, cutting me off. “I’ll be there in a few. Just down Route 9?”
“Go to Merom and take it towards the bluff. I’m like sixty-eight million miles into the corn.”
“Be there in a bit.”
Tossing my phone into the car, I cross the ditch and sit on the other side. No cars pass as I sit there and lace little flowers together like we used to do at recess in elementary school. It’s methodical and intricate and takes all my attention which is a godsend.
The first car I hear comes at me like a bat out of hell. Hopping to my feet, I see Peck’s hand out the driver’s window. Taking a step towards the ditch as he slides in facing me, I stop. His smile does nothing to smooth this over.
Walker climbs out of the truck. His expression is unreadable, even for him, and I grind my teeth together as I turn to Peck.
“Hey,” Peck says, his tone way too cheery.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask him, marching across the ditch next to the driver’s side door as he gets out.
“Coming to fix your tire.” He leans into the back of his truck and yanks out a toolbox. “Which one is it?”
“Did you not hear me when I said I don’t want Walker here?” I hiss. “I’d rather have walked back, Peck. I meant that.”
Popping one arm on the rail of the truck bed, he looks at me. “He was standing next to me. Did you think I was getting out of there without him when he found out it was you?”
“Yes, I did. Because you’re a grown man who can tell him no.”
“Sure,” he laughs, carrying the toolbox towards my car. He passes Walker at the front of his truck, muttering something to him that I can’t hear.
When I finally look that way, I ignore the wariness in his gaze and shoot him the dirtiest look I can manage. He starts to speak, but I turn away.
“Sienna . . .” he says, his voice fading.
Taking in the expanse of the cornfields, I calculate how long it would take me to just walk back to town. The rows are straight, which would kind of be like a path, and it would be relatively safe because no large animals could fit in there so I ultimately shouldn’t die a gory death.
His hand rests on my shoulder. I pull away.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he gruffs out, standing way too close for comfort.
“Really?” I ask, pivoting in a half-circle to face him. “Why in the world would I call you?”
His jaw clenches as he works it back and forth. “Oh, I don’t know. Because that’s the logical solution.”
“Logic? You want to talk logic? This should be fun,” I glare, crossing my arms over my chest. “Can you just go help Peck or something?”
“Peck doesn’t need my help, Sienna.”
“Then why the hell did you come?”
“You know why I fucking came,” he says, his eyes darkening. “I came to talk to you.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
He takes a step towards me, his hand flexing in the air like he wants to reach for me but wisely refrains. “Maybe I have a lot to say to you.”
“You know what? Maybe you’ve said enough.”
We have a mini-standoff on the shoulder of the road, a flock of birds flying overhead. The music Peck is streaming into his earbuds a few feet away as he crouches at my tire floats through the air right alongside the irritation passing between his cousin and I.
“Damn it, Sienna.”
“Don’t use that tone with me,” I bite, jabbing a finger in his direction.
“Will you just stop it for a second and let me talk?”
“No, I won’t. You’ve said everything I need to hear already.”
He growls, running a hand through his hair. “You are so damn hardheaded.”
“Me?” I ask, dropping my hand. “I’m hardheaded? What the hell does that make you?”
“At least I’ll listen to you.”
“Well, listen to my steps walk away.” I get a few steps towards Peck when Walker spins me in a circle. “Hey!”
“I just want to talk to you. Hear me out.”
“Why? It doesn’t matter what you say because whatever comes out of your mouth right now, you’ll contradict later. Look at last night . . .”
I fight the tears hitting the corners of my eyes like a prize fighter, imploring them to reabsorb into my eyes. I’d rather do anything instead of letting him see me cry.
His gaze settles on the lone tear slipping down my cheek, sliding down my cheekbone, near the crease of my nose, and over my lips. He watches it fall all the way to my shirt.
“I’m crying because I’m pissed,” I tell him, omitting the part about my feelings and how they hurt more at the hands of him than they ever have over a man.
“I hate seeing you cry.”
His eyes rise to mine. My cheeks are hot, warmth exuding from them as I stand in front of him. Even now, I can see something in his eyes that pings at my heart and I have to force it away.
“I kept thinking I saw something in you that proved you weren’t really an asshole. And, you know what,” I say, biting back a sob, “that’s what hurts.”
He grimaces, walks in a circle, but refuses to dispute anything.
“I’ll be honest,” I say, my voice dropping a couple of notches, “I liked you. I enjoyed spending time with you. And I thought you did too. Maybe it’s what I hoped would happen, maybe I wanted you to like me.”
“You know I like you, Sienna,” he says, standing still. “That’s not the problem.”
“So this is what you do to people you like?”
“No,” he groans, looking at the sky.
“You do this on purpose. You’re hot and cold intentionally, making me wonder where I stand and what you’re thinking.”
“You know what I’m thinking,” he says, his body almost shaking. “You know how I feel.”
“Do I? Because the last interaction we had made it perfectly clear how you feel, if that’s the case.”
My words stop him in his tracks. He takes a deep, measured breath as he sticks his hands into his pockets.
“Do you want me to hate you? Fine. Done. You win,” I say, holding his gaze for half a second and then turning to Peck. “You done?”
“Let’s go somewhere and talk,” Walker says from behind me.
“Peck?” I say, ignoring Walker.
“Yeah, I’m done. You sliced it pretty good.” Peck brushes off his hands, leaning the old tire next to his leg. “That one will get you around for a while, but you’ll need a new one. It’s the only one we had in the shop.”
“I’ll order a new one,” Walker says.
I look at him over my shoulder. “I’ll go to the dealership. Don’t worry about it.” Turning back to Peck, I hold up a finger. “Hold on a second.” My hand shaking, I get into the car and sift through my wallet. Pulling out a fifty-dollar bill, I get back out and hand it to Peck. “Here. It’s all the cash I have—”
“Stop,” Walker cuts me off.
“Take it, Peck,” I demand.
“I’m not taking your money,” he laughs.
I shove the money in Peck’s hand. “Then give it to him. But I won’t owe either of you.”
Peck studies me for a long second before nodding. “Fine. You still coming to church tomorrow?”
“Doubt it,” I say, my heart softening as I think of Nana. “Tell Nana I’ll mail her my blueberry muffin recipe.”
“She’ll be pissed,” Peck grins. “You really want to risk that?”
“Thanks for coming.” I send him a small smile before walking around the back of my car. “I appreciate it.”
“Any time. I told you that.”
With a final look Walker’s way, I ignore the look in his eye that would typically make me stop and ask him what’s wrong. Today I don’t give a damn.
Jumping into the car, I flip on the ignition and take off down the road, leaving Walker behind.