Page 11 of The Stranger

She twists the sleeve to look at it, running her finger over the stain with a strange expression. Then she turns it quickly until it’s under her wrist, and I can no longer see it, but I didn’t miss the fact that her hands have scrapes and blood on them as well. “No. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? That looks like blood. Your hands look rough.”

She doesn’t look at me, and I suddenly have an inkling about why she’s in such a hurry and why she doesn’t want to talk about her boyfriend. Red fury ignites in me like a wick lit on fire. “Did he hurt you when you fought? Tell me the truth.”

She shakes her head, but it’s halfhearted. “I’m fine, Walker. I’m a big girl. I’ve been taking care of myself a long time.”

I wring my hands around the steering wheel, imagining it’s his neck. “You should go to the police. Tibby, you should go to the police right now. Immediately. You have to make sure he can never hurt you again. Does he know where you live?”

She stares straight ahead, not answering, which I take to mean that he does.

“Tibby, if he knows where you live, he could find you if you go home or… Well, I know you said you don’t have a permanent home, but he’ll know where to look for you, won’t he? He knows where you’re staying. Or where you might stay. He’ll come after you and…he could really hurt you.”

She tucks her hands under her legs, leaning back in her seat. “I’m fine, Walker. Honestly. It’s not worth the headache, trust me. He’s not coming after me. He’s long gone.”

I don’t like the answer, but with no real right to say anything, I let it go.

“Are you close with your parents?” she asks, changing the subject with razor-sharp focus.

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, they’re my parents, you know? So we have our little disagreements, but for the most part, they’re pretty cool.”

“And your brother?”

“Yeah. We’re only a year apart in age, so we were close growing up and have gotten closer now. He lives in Utah, though. Salt Lake City. So I don’t see him too often. Just the holidays.”

“So you were heading home to visit them? Am I slowing you down?” she asks, with a hint of vulnerability that stings me to my core.

I swallow. “Only if you’re the one in charge of this storm.”

To that, she finally laughs. “Nope, I can’t say that I am.”

“Didn’t think so. What about you? Do you have siblings?”

“Nope. It’s just me and my parents.”

“And you’re close? Or no?”

She adjusts in her seat, tugging at the sleeves of her shirt as she seems to search for the answer. “Um… Well, not particularly, no. We aren’t, like, mortal enemies or anything. They’re my parents, you know? But we aren’t close. They don’t agree with most of my life choices, and they’ve made that super clear. They wanted me to settle down, have kids, live near them. Basically everything I didn’t do. And, when I’m not doing what they want me to do, everything between us is strained. And I’m to blame for it all.”

“So…you don’t want to settle down? Have kids? Not in the cards for ya?”

“I don’t know. Someday, maybe. Not right now, at least. I like being wild right now. Free. It’s not like you get a do-over for these years. You don’t get the time back…being young, you know? I can’t be sixty and decide to abandon my family because what I’d like more than anything else is to finally take some desperately needed alone time.”

“Sure you can,” I say, though I know what she means. “But it’s harder. I get it.”

“Yeah, it’s just…I know they’re happy, but I want…I want something more for my life. I want to see the world and try new things and chase my dreams. They think that’s all silly and dangerous.” She releases a long exhale. “Plus, they hated my ex.”

I look over at her out of the corner of my eye. “You mean the guy from tonight?”

She nods. “Craig.”

“Well, I can’t say I don’t agree with their feelings about Craig, but I thought you called him your boyfriend earlier? Is he an ex?”

She pauses for several seconds, and I can practically hear her thinking. “I don’t know what he is. It was kind of a dramatic exit if I’m being honest. But I’m done with him, so I guess so.” Twisting a piece of her hair, she looks up at me. “He wasn’t a terrible boyfriend. Just selfish. And with a temper.”

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“Well, I’ve never been very good in the kitchen. Recipes aren’t exactly my thing.” She runs a hand over her face, yawning as I smirk.