She had no clue what he was talking about, which was why she replied, “What?”
“Walking on the car while it was being driven by Max . . . ? That seemed like a good idea to you after almost dying last night?”
“Although, according to you, I didn’t almost die. I did suffer, though. You know, I really don’t remember much of anything from last night, but I do remember my cousins just wouldn’t shut up, and I just wanted to choke them until they all stopped talking.”
When the cat didn’t reply, Tock looked down and saw that her hands were mimicking strangling someone. And her teeth were so tightly clenched, she was sure she must have growled out that last part of her thought.
She lowered her hands, unclenched her jaw, and looked up at Shay.
“I hid under the SUV until we were on the road and then I crawled out. That way I didn’t have to see my family. It was a weak and pathetic move, but I did it because I hate having debates that never end. And when you fight with my family, there’s never an end. They love to argue. About everything.”
Shay studied her a moment. “Okay,” he said. “I get that.” He stopped glaring and rested his forearms on his big thighs. “But why didn’t Max pull over once you guys were away from the hospital, so you could get out from under the car without risking your life?” When Tock didn’t answer, he rolled his eyes. “Exactly how many times have you fallen off a moving car?”
“I have no idea.”
“But should you really risk your life like that? Climbing over cars while they’re moving?”
Done with the conversation, Tock didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “Thanks for helping me yesterday. I appreciate that.”
Shay snorted and asked, “Since when?” He shook his head. “You just want to change the subject.”
“I really do. And I thought feeding your ego would help with that.”
“It doesn’t. But if you want to risk your life jumping around on moving cars driven by Max MacKilligan of all people . . . be my guest.”
Tock studied him for a moment before announcing, “That’s right. You’re a dad.”
“What? I mean . . . I am. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“You just really have the guilt thing down. It’s impressive.”
“Learned it from my mom,” he admitted. “Once me, Finn, and Keane hit puberty, it was the only thing she had in her arsenal to control us besides disembowelment.”
“My parents have been using guilt on me since birth. My mom is especially adept at it.” Not wanting to think too much about whether her parents might hear of this latest situation—and the guilt that would ensue—she asked, “Daughter or son?”
“Daughter. Ten.”
“So you were kind of young when you had her?”
“I was. Her mom’s a little older. Used to play pro football but she had to get an elbow replacement after a brutal hit in a championship game. She has three other sons she’s raising to be players.”
“Your daughter wants to play, too?”
“No. Actually . . .”
His words faded off and he suddenly looked off. As if he was hoping she hadn’t noticed. But of course she had and now she was curious to find out what he was hiding.
“Actually . . . what?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“I get enough shit from Keane. I’m not in the mood to hear any more.”
“Oh, come on. Aren’t we beyond this?”
“Beyond what? You being nosy?”
“You noticing that I’m being nosy. And after everything we’ve been through together.”
“Really? You’re using that one on me? And exactly what have we been through together?”
“You saw me pee myself yesterday. Something that was traumatic for both of us.”
“That was in reaction to the poisoning and we don’t need to discuss it.”
“I actually do appreciate your not making that into a big deal. Most guys are not fans of girls that pee themselves.”
“It’s not like you got ridiculously drunk in a bar and then pissed on the DJ.” When she glanced up at him, he gave one of his shrugs and added, “That happened once with a girl. It was not pretty. And we didn’t have a second date.”
“Understandable. Anyway, just tell me about your kid. I’m not really a kid person, so the fact that I’m interested at all is . . . impressive. I’m very impressed with myself right now.”
He gave a soft chuckle before letting out a sigh and grudgingly admitting, “She likes math. And she wants to be an”—he cleared his throat—“an accountant.”
“An accountant? At ten? Did she see a movie?”
“A movie about accounting?”
“It’s possible. At ten I wanted to be a race car driver and a bounty hunter. Why? Because I saw two movies over a weekend, and one was about a race car driver and the other was about a bounty hunter.”
“Yeah, well, she’s loved math since she was three and wanted to be an accountant since she was six.”
“Oh. Oh. Yeah. She might be in it for the long haul.” She paused a moment, then asked, “How did she know what an accountant was at six, anyway?”
“I have no idea.” He gave a little smile. “She is good at math, though. Studying at an eighth-grade level. I mean, she’s not like . . .”
“Stevie?” Tock shook her head. “No one is like Stevie. And that’s okay, because she’s been in therapy since she was, like, five. It’s really hard being Stevie. So be grateful.”
“I am. My baby’s good in her other subjects, but average good. Not terrifying good. I think that balances out the math thing.”
“It does. I was always advanced with science and math, but I barely passed English. And I only find some parts of history interesting enough to remember. I mean, who cares about what happened in 1066?”
“The Battle of Hastings.” When she only stared at him, he muttered, “That battle kind of led to the birth of the entire English language.”
“Again, who cares? With some household cleaners and a match, I can take this entire building down. Isn’t that more important than who started the English language a bazillion years ago when people didn’t bathe?”
“Well, that’s . . . disturbing.”
“What is?”
“All of it. All of what you said just now. I was going to say interesting, but nope. It’s just disturbing.”
*
The fight came out of nowhere. They were just sitting on the private jet, heading back to New York. Everyone was pretty quiet. Either reading magazines or on their phones. Then it just happened.
Mads looked at Tock, who was sitting next to her and, without any warning, started yelling, “How could you be so fucking stupid?”
Shay was shocked. He’d never heard or seen Mads angry, much less screaming at someone. She was always the rational one of the group. The one who tried to calm everything down. But here she was, screaming at Tock.
And Tock started screaming back. The pair of them nose to nose . . . screaming. Shay didn’t even know what they were saying. He could barely make their words out, they were saying them so fast.