Rekindling

Chapter 9 - Tears

I have been counting seconds for what feels like hours.

Then, about 30 miles ago, I switched to counting minutes, because my head was ready to explode. Not to mention that it made me slightly nauseous. The nausea could, however, also be due to the unfamiliar feeling of this drive.

I am actually sitting in the passenger seat for a change.

Or maybe – more likely – it might just be Sean's driving style.

I am not very used to sitting in a car with him as he has only been back for a few days and I don't remember when he last drove me anywhere. Which leaves me slightly worried. Over the years, I have heard my other brothers tell many horror stories of his apparent lack of driving skills. They swear that he is a danger to anybody who comes near a car that he is driving, but I have no proof that there is any truth to this – nor has he ever actually been in an accident or caused one, at least not to my knowledge.

I only learned that he failed his driver's test a few times when the guys brought it up at our dinner party a few nights ago. Which makes me suspicious that their silly claims are fake and Sean might just be the victim of vicious teasing by his brothers. But because he has never owned a car all these years while he lived in Chicago, the uncertainty still makes me a bit nervous.

Obviously, it could be worse. I could be stuck in the confines of a car with Jordan instead. Although he is a safe driver – even if he doesn't take traffic rules too seriously – he probably wouldn't have been the greatest company on this 5-hour-trip to get back home. He has been so unpredictable in his moods and reactions lately that I prefer to stay out of his way if I can help it.

It kinda hurts, too, because Jordan has been my go-to-comfort-person ever since he moved back in with us last year. All I really crave right now is his company. Sure, he was kinda awesome yesterday after he had arrived at the cabin and tried to make me come out of my hiding space in the wardrobe. Nevertheless, I don't trust that he won't blow up again, like he did on various occasions in the past few weeks.

"What's on your mind?" Sean interrupts my musings.

Sluggishly, I turn my head to look at him, not understanding what he means. Without looking back at me, he reaches his right hand out and places it on top of mine, which is resting on my thigh. He must have noticed that I have been nervously fiddling with my phone ever since I pulled it out of the small backpack by my feet.

I really want to contact Noah to find out how he is doing. And at the same time, the last thing I want to do is contacting Noah. That doesn't make any sense, I know that, but my brain has been fighting an inward battle ever since I realized that the twins must know what happened by now.

"Sweetheart?" my brother pushes for a reply, gently patting my hands as if to get my attention.

"M'fine," I eventually mutter, knowing as soon as the muffled sound comes out of my mouth that he is not going to buy that.

"Right," Sean surprisingly humors me.

He doesn't sound even remotely sarcastic, which I think is pretty impressive. If it had been anyone else – maybe not Alex – their voice would have been dripping with sarcasm and disbelief.

"Has... has Ben already...," I start, even though I don't really want to share where my head is at, so I trail off again, unwilling to finish the question.

Also, it feels kind of impossible to say the necessary words out loud.

If Sean is amused by my being so easily manipulated into talking to him, he doesn't let it on. Instead, he stops the patting motions and squeezes my hands reassuringly before putting his own hand back on the steering wheel. I am sure Alex would appreciate this, if he knew.