Page 116 of Outspoken

That simple nod sends us off together into the night.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Amber

AS MIGUEL’S CAR WANDERS THROUGH the dark city streets, we remain silent, lost in our own thoughts. The radio plays so softly it’s hard to make out lyrics, but the low hum is full of longing—a slow ballad of grief.

I roll the window down and close my eyes. Cool night air rushes over my face, blowing through my hair, and I slip into mindful awareness, another technique I learned in therapy. I focus on the feeling of wind caressing my skin and the range of city smells, even the gross sewage smell that floats by every few miles.

Anything to stay out of my thoughts. I don’t know where Miguel is driving us, and it doesn’t matter. Whatever we end up doing and wherever we’re going, a dead end is right around the corner. There’s no way we can avoid it. I’m happy to do everything I can to stay in this moment with him for as long as possible.

My feelings get the best of me anyway, so I let it happen. No more fighting because I’m simply exhausted. I’ve spent so much time running from my emotions or trying to drown them in substances, and for what? Shit still happens. Life is still painful and difficult. What does it matter if I just…feel?

It’s scary. Letting myself feel is kind of an experiment. Getting into my emotions and being vulnerable is new territory, something I only touched on in therapy.

But why not? Nothing else helps for long, and I’ve run out of the energy to fight.

As I lean my head against the edge of the open passenger window, tears trickle down my cheeks. If I told myself two years ago that I was going to fall in love, I might have checked myself into the hospital, thinking something was seriously wrong with my head. And it completely fits my luck that the man I fell in love with is someone I can’t have a lasting relationship with.

I sniff and Miguel glances over. I don’t try to hide anything, only sniff again as more tears fall quietly.

He reaches across the console to take my hand. I intertwine our fingers, squeezing to show my appreciation for the comfort, then I move his hand back to the steering wheel.

“Always two hands on the wheel,” I say softly, catching his gaze. “We can hold hands once we get there, wherever you’re taking me. Hopefully nowhere shady.”

His slight smile looks sad and broken in the dim gray light—exactly how I feel.

I wonder what’s going through his head. There’s so much we need to get out in the open.

He steers the car onto a narrow street at the end of the neighborhood we’ve been driving through. “It’s just up this hill,” he says.

Bushes and trees border the winding road as we drive up. I’m not sure if I’d call where we are a hill or a small mountain, but it’s high enough to overlook parts of the city. Lights stretch on for miles, stopping abruptly in the distance against a solid wall of black—the ocean.

Eventually, my tears stop, so I wipe my cheeks, and Miguel pulls into a small parking lot. I glance around through the car windows. There’s a white building to the right behind a large lawn, possibly a planetarium, and some hiking paths on the left. The place is deserted, and I doubt we’re allowed here this late.

But Miguel seems relaxed, like we won’t get fined for trespassing, so I embrace this little adventure. Probably the last one we’ll have together.

“Where are we?” I ask him once we’re both out of the car.

He locks the doors and shoves the keys in his pocket. “It’s a park with hiking trails. There’s also a museum, but we won’t be breaking in tonight.” With a slight smile, he glances at a thick tangle of trees. “This place is deserted at night. Mom used to bring us here when we were kids to look at the stars.”

I glance at the sky. It’s a little cloudy, but a few twinkling lights break through.

Miguel sighs. “Some nights you can see better than others. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Don’t think I believe in luck, only disaster.

He pops the trunk to grab a blanket, and I glimpse his black leather jacket tucked in a corner. I’ve missed it. Though I was pissed about the jacket at Rico’s party because it was like a symbol for everything Miguel was hiding, now I’m craving to have it wrapped around me. Like I can’t imagine a better feeling than wearing something of Miguel’s.

Fuck, who am I?

“Um, it’s a little chilly,” I say, rubbing my arms through the sleeves of my thin blouse. It’s a complete lie since it’s a warm spring night. “Is it okay if…” I point at the jacket in the trunk.

His dimpled smile creates butterflies in my stomach. He grabs the jacket and helps me stuff my arms through the sleeves. After tugging the front around me and zipping, he remains close, gazing down at me. A deep swallow makes his Adam’s apple bounce. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at me. Electric. Soothing. A feeling of warmth melts over me, like stepping into a hot shower after hours in the freezing snow.

No man has ever looked at me like this.

“I’m sorry for making you climb out my window,” I say, which is the closest I can get right now to telling him how I feel. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that, but you haven’t exactly made it easy to apologize.”

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