It’s going to take forever to hoof it home, but I’m not going back to that house for anything. Tonight’s misery quota had been met.
I’ve only covered a few yards before headlights flash behind me. Zac’s car rolls ups beside me. I shoot him a cursory glance and keep moving. He sticks his head out the window. With one hand propped on the steering wheel, he drives slowly, keeping pace with me.
“Davy, get in the car.”
I bristle at his tone. “I can walk, thanks.”
“It’s going to take you an hour on foot.”
“I’ll be fine. Besides . . . are you sure you’ll be safe with me?”
He makes a sound, part grunt, part sigh. “Stop it.”
“I’m just saying. You’re sporting a nice handprint on your face there.”
He glances at the road, turning the wheel a bit to avoid someone’s recycling bin that’s still in the street. “I picked you up. I’ll take you home.”
A little laugh breaks loose from me. “Trying to be a gentleman now, are we?”
“Damn it! Get in. I’m responsible for you. Come back to the house with me. Or let me take you home. What if you’re caught out here? You know there’s a curfew.”
I snort. “Like we always obey that.”
“Yeah, that was before. What’s gonna happen if they find you wandering out here, a carrier . . . ?”
Of course everything comes back to that. I whirl to face him. “Just stop! Go! I’m not your concern, Zac. We’re done. I absolve you, or whatever.”
“Fine. Walk,” he bites out, ducking his head back inside the car. “I tried. Just remember that. I tried.”
And he’s not just talking about me getting into the car. He’s talking about us. He actually thinks he tried to keep us . . . alive. I laugh out loud, the sound harsh on the night, making me feel a bit like a madwoman.
“Is that what you think? Does it make you feel like less of a jerk to believe that? You need to believe you didn’t quit on us just because of some stupid DNA test, but you did!”
“I’m not a jerk!”
“Ha! You’re the worst kind because you don’t even know it. It would have been far kinder to just break up with me instead of dragging this out. At least that would have been honest.”
For a long moment, he says nothing. There’s just the purr of his engine and the gleam of his eyes from within the dark interior of his car. And then: “You’re right. I should have broken up with you,” he confessed. “I wanted to. Guess I was too much of a coward.”
His words shouldn’t wound me, but they do. My chest tightens, and it hurts to breathe.
I fight past the lump in my throat to say more. “Consider it done then.”
He nods, the motion rough and jerky. I can’t make out his expression in the dark, but I sense his relief that it’s done. That we’re done.
“Good luck, Davy.” He floors it and the car shoots ahead into the night, turning the corner at the far end of the street so fast that it fishtails before righting.
Then he’s gone. And I’m all alone.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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TEXAS ORDINANCE NO. 12974B (MODIFYING TITLE II: POLICE POLICIES OF PERSONS UNDER THIRTY-FIVE YEARS OF AGE) WHEREIN the State concludes there has been an increase in violence and crime by persons under the age of thirty-five, resulting in a broad variety of offensive behavior, including vandalism, breach of the peace, and assaults on citizens.
WHEREIN persons under the age of thirty-five are chiefly susceptible to engage in dangerous and unlawful activities . . .
WHEREIN the offensive actions of persons under the age of thirty-five are not easily controlled by existing law . . .
HENCEFORTH a curfew for those under the age of thirty-five will be in the interest of public safety and welfare and will facilitate and promote public safety for the citizens of Texas. . . .