Page 33 of Heavy
“Thanks,” I say, my voice choppy. I need to get away from here—now. My heart won’t settle, and I’m worried I might collapse here.
Throwing myself into the car, I press the start button and peel off down the street.
This isn’t smart.
My arms tingle, and I don’t even feel my foot on the gas. All I want to do is close my eyes, fight the tightening in my chest, and find a way to catch my breath.
“This ain’t a place for a kid.”
A lump forms right in my throat, and I can’t swallow. How can she judge Ronan like that when she allowed those things to happen to me?
I blow through a yellow light as the streetlights illuminate the darkness inside my car. My mind can’t focus on where I’m going; all I can think about is going back. To the houses, the drugs, the faces, and the pain. She was careless with her body and her child.
Somehow, I manage to stay aware of my surroundings, and I’m grateful for it because suddenly a motorcycle pulls out in front of me at a green light. I slam on my brakes, my tires screeching, and I swear I can smell burning rubber.
Squeezing the steering wheel, I take a breath that feels like sharp knives pricking at my lungs.
I recognize him instantly—it’s Ronan sitting on the bike. The leather jacket he wears has a white stripe down the arms, the silver pin on his cuff catching the streetlight. He raises his hand and points off to the side where a Walmart is located.
He juts his head and points aggressively again. Now I understand—he wants me to pull in. I obey absentmindedly, and by the time I blink again, I find myself parked with the engine still running.
A soft tap on my window sends a rush of embarrassment over me. I can’t tell if it’s from what my mother said or from driving while I’m clearly in the midst of a panic attack.
He taps again, harder this time, and I shakily press the button to roll down the window.
“Get out, Calista.”
I swallow hard and close my eyes, wishing I could cry. I want to release the pressure building in my temples and let every bit of anguish pour out, but it just won’t come. It never does.
After a moment, I finally do as he commands and open the door. My legs feel numb, and I hesitate—not because I don’t want to obey, but because I’m unsure if I can even hold myself up.
“Put your hands in your lap,” he says, leaning forward. I lift my gaze to meet his, noticing one hand resting on the top of the car while the other pushes the door open wide. “Do not move them, do you hear me?”
I’m unsure of why he is asking that of me, but I just nod.
“Use your words.” His sharp tone startles me.
“Y-Yes, I understand.”
He sighs, and I quickly get my answer. His hand moves under my knees while the other supports my back, physically lifting me out of the car.
As he commanded, I shove my hands between my thighs, afraid of what I might do if I feel a wave of fear. I don’t want to accidentally grab onto him.
I’m cradled in his arms as if I weigh nothing, and as I lean into his body, I can’t help but feel that I fit perfectly right here. It’s a stupid notion, but it isn’t something I can fight. My heart thunders in my chest and I hold my breath because of it.
Ronan says nothing as he circles the car, leaning down to open the passenger door with one hand while keeping me steady with his leg. Once the door is kicked open, he kneels and shifts me back inside.
He doesn’t ask me to buckle my seat belt. Instead, he does it for me. I have to move my hands for him to place the strap across my lap, and I raise them as if I’m being held at gunpoint.
Why can’t I touch you…
Once it clicks, he doesn’t pat my leg or say anything; he simply leans back out of the vehicle and closes the door. I watch him walk to his bike, parked beside my car, before returning to the driver’s seat.
I fiddle with the hem of my dress at my thighs, pulling it down and taking soft breaths to calm myself.
“Ro—”
“How dumb can you be, Cal?” He turns to look at me, his expression completely devoid of feeling. There’s no anger, no happiness—just a man so detached from the world that he might as well be on another planet. This isn’t the same Ronan that stared at me while we discussed my need to fix things. Then, I could see a man with layers, one that I wanted to peel back. This one here, right now, is a statue.
