Chase Our Forever (Sutten Mountain #3)

26. Liv

26

LIV

“You driving me really isn’t necessary,” I tell Dean, not for the first time this car ride. “I’m more than capable of going to the store alone.”

Dean doesn’t look at me. His eyes stay focused on the road, and his hands firmly hold on to either side of the steering wheel. We just dropped off Clara and Honey with Dean’s parents for the day when it started pouring rain outside.

“You’re not driving in this,” he responds, his voice rough and straight to the point.

Too bad I’m used to his grumpiness and won’t let his attitude deter me. “I can drive in this. I’m from Florida. I’m used to rain. There’d be torrential downpours during hurricane season, and I’d still have to drive.”

He sighs, his eyes still staying trained on the road. His knuckles turn white with how hard he grips the steering wheel. “I’m not discussing this with you, Liv. Just let me drive you to get the clothes, okay?” His voice cracks a little, and the sound of it chips away at my resolve. If he wants to drive me into town to go shopping, I’m not going to stop him. Not when the panic in his voice was clear as day at the thought of me driving right now.

“Okay,” I whisper. “But just because you’re insistent on chaperoning me doesn’t mean I’m going to let you buy me clothes. I’m buying. You got it?” I keep my tone upbeat, hating the distraught tone he used moments ago.

It seems like my attempt at lightening the mood works. The corners of his lips turn up in the hint of a smile. “If you say so, sunshine.”

Sunshine.

It’s the first time he’s ever called me that. I love it. I want him to say it again and decipher what it means. Does he feel the same pull I do? Or is giving me a nickname completely platonic and professional?

I need to know.

The rest of the drive is quiet. I don’t try to fill it, knowing Dean seems to be concentrating on nothing but the road. He sits up straight in the driver’s seat, his eyes scanning the road meticulously as he drives us into town. The only sound is that of the rain pelting the truck.

Finally, we make it to the heart of the town. Dean parks in front of a dark green building with a sign that reads Sutten Mountain Treasures. We haven’t even been inside yet, and I already love it. I’ve been to a lot of thrift stores. Thrifting is one of my favorite things to do. It’s rewarding to give things that have been discarded and given away a new life. You can tell a lot about a thrift store just by the outside of it, and I have a good feeling about this one.

I pick my purse up from the floor and place it in my lap, looking over at Dean.

He stares ahead of him, his jaw tight, making small muscles feather along his cheekbones.

“Dean?” I ask cautiously, wondering why he looks so tense. He has one hand still on the steering wheel—his knuckles still white as can be—while his other one rests against his thigh. His fingertips dance along the worn denim of his jeans, something I’ve learned he does when he’s nervous.

“Dean,” I repeat, leaning over the center console to try and get his attention. He stares blankly ahead.

I let the silence hang between us for a moment before he finally looks at me. When he does, I see sadness and worry etched into the handsome features of his face. “She died because of the rain,” he croaks, his words taking me by surprise.

“What?” The word comes out of my mouth before I can even think through an appropriate response. If the rain wasn’t smashing the windshield, he’d be able to hear the intense beat of my heart at his words.

“The other car was driving recklessly in the rain. Going way too fast along the narrow mountain roads. They went into Selena’s lane, but because of the wet asphalt, there was nothing they could do to stop the cars from colliding. He walked away with a broken arm…and Selena…” He takes a shaky breath in. I’ve never seen so much emotion on his face, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know the right thing to say.

So I don’t say anything. I reach across the center console and place my hand on his cheek. He leans into it, accepting the physical contact as comfort.

He stares at me for a few moments. It feels like so many things are said in this moment, and yet nothing is said at all. I’ve never felt more confused in my life. The way he stares at me, there’s so much pain in his eyes, but there’s also something else. Something I can’t read, but it makes my heart beat so fast it might just beat right out of my chest.

“It wasn’t even supposed to rain that day.” I hate the sadness in his voice. It’s so raw and broken that it breaks me right along with him.

If only I knew how to fix the hurt man staring back at me. If only I didn’t have feelings for him that I know will end up breaking me in the end.

“You couldn’t have known,” I whisper. I wish I could make my voice stronger or find better ways to comfort him, but I don’t think anything in the world can take this guilt and grief off his shoulders. All I can do is try and shoulder it with him—if he’ll let me.

He sighs as his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, the mask he puts in place to protect himself from the world is back. He doesn’t remove my touch. He shocks me by placing his hand on top of mine and pressing my palm even harder into his cheek.

“I can’t think about the what-ifs about that day. I’ve tried, and they slowly killed me over time. I’m trying not to do that anymore. But I just needed you to know why I couldn’t let you drive today. I just needed to be in control of keeping you safe, okay?”

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. His “okay” comes out hoarse and like a plea. I’d agree to anything just to hear the pain disappear from his voice.

His fingers squeeze my hand before he drops his hand to his lap. I take that as my cue to pull my hand away. He lets out a controlled breath as he pulls himself together. “Thank you. For listening. For being here. For understanding.”

I scan his profile, trying to gauge how he’s doing just by the small, little nuances of his demeanor. It’s hard to tell—he’s locked his emotions back up and put on a brave face.

I wish he knew he didn’t have to always be brave with me. He can be hurt and broken and scared and vulnerable and anything he wants to be. It won’t make me leave. It won’t change my mind about him.

“Of course,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say. Nothing I’ve said since he put the truck in park has probably been right, but I try not to second-guess my words. I know my feelings for him run deeper than they should, but despite that, he and I have an undeniable connection. On my side, it’s feelings that surpass friendship and how one should feel about their boss, but for him, I’m sure it’s just finally having someone in his life who can listen and sit with his grief without sharing in it.

The raindrops get a little lighter against the windshield as we sit in the quiet for a few moments. I don’t say anything, letting him take as long as he needs to gather himself.

Finally, he looks back at me, and the rawness and vulnerability are gone from his features. I can’t tell if the half-smile he gives me is real or fake. “Let’s get inside and get you some winter clothes. And, most importantly, a damn coat.”