Page 67 of Guilty Minds
“What?” I’m a little perplexed by her random question.
“Your car. Does it start from the first try?” She points a finger at me.
I think for a second, and her questions seem even weirder now. "Actually, yes. It starts faster."
“And what about your brakes?” Her smile spreads wider, and I’m worried her face may break in two.
“What about them?” I ask, confused.
“Do they make that god-awful sound every time you push the pedal?” She quirks a brow.
“Hmm, no. What are you trying to say, Frey?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“That one day I was at the diner, I saw Justin outside messing with your car.” She’s smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
“Messing?”
“I think he was fixing it!” She looks like a cat who just swallowed a ton of canaries.
“What?” I exclaim as I gesticulate too widely with my hands and send a cup flying on the floor, shattering. “Oh shit.”
“Yeah, that’s Alex’s favorite tea set.” She looks at the debris on the floor.
“Oh shit!” I jump from the chair and begin collecting the pieces.
"Forget about that," Freya waves me off as she stands to grab a broom. "I always hated it; it looks like it belongs in a museum. I want something a little more up-to-date. Mismatched. You know?”
I know. She means "cozy."
While sweeping up the tiny pieces I didn’t catch, she says: “Justin was checking something under your car, or behind the wheels or whatever. I’m positive he fixed your car. The whole town noticed your car stopped screeching.”
"It wasn't that bad," I say in defense of my ol’ boy.
“Oh, it was bad.” She laughs, and I know she’s right. The sound was horrible, and now it’s gone. How didn’t I notice that? And Justin? Fixed my car? Why would he do that?
“I think I’ll be moving soon.” I shoot out without any foreplay.
Her face changes in an instant, and her eyes swell with tears. She furiously tries to blink them back, but they just keep running. I sit next to her on the couch, bringing my arms around her to hug her as tight as I can. “I need to. There is no happy life waiting for me in Little Hope.” She starts crying even harder. “What? Why are you crying?”
She pulls away, wiping the tears with the back of her hand. “It’s just so sad that just when I found my home here, you’re losing it. And I’m losing you.”
“Stop that!” I’m about to cry myself, but I refuse to. I hate crying in front of people. Even Freya. "We live in the twenty-first century, hello. Phones and FaceTime do exist, you know, grandma." I gently poke her shoulder, and she finally smiles.
"That's true. Still, it's not the same." She wipes her nose with her hand in a very unladylike fashion, and I barely keep from bursting with laughter.
“I’m not going far.” And then I tell her the story about Archie and his offer. By the end of this conversation, Freya’s gaping at me with wide eyes.
“What?” I ask.
"Why the hell are you still here? I'd be grabbing this opportunity with both hands! Archie's a good guy; he won't leave you high and dry if that's what you're worried about." She punches my shoulder, leaving a mild sting.
“That’s not it.”
“Oh ma-a-an,” disapproval is evident on her face. "You didn't want to go because of him, didn't you?" I don't answer because, clearly, it was a rhetorical question that we both know the answer to. "Don't get me wrong, I want you guys to be together, and that's where this story is clearly going, but not at the expense of your dream, Kayla. I did that already, and it was the worst thing I could have done to myself.” She’s referring to the time she left her nursing position at a big hospital when her ex-husband wanted her to become a Stepford wife.
“I understand… You’re right—”
“But it’s easier said than done.” She finishes with a sad smile. “I know, Kay. Trust me, I know. And even though I’d hate for you to move from Little Hope, I think it will be good for you.” She sniffles loudly and wipes her nose again, leaving it red and swollen.
