“Why are you picking me up?” she asks softly, her hair pulled back in a ponytail with fly-aways floating around her face.
“Believe me,” I shoot out sarcastically. “I’ve got better things to do. Get in.”
And I turn around to open my door and climb in the car.
I start the engine, shifting it into gear as if I’m not going to wait for her, and I see her walk hurriedly around the front and open the passenger door, climbing in.
She puts on her seatbelt and stares at her lap, remaining silent.
She looks upset, but I don’t think it has anything to do with me.
“Why are you crying?” I demand, trying to act like I don’t care if she answers me or not.
Her chin shakes, and she puts her hand to her neck, touching the fresh scar from the accident that killed her father only a couple of months ago. “The girls were making fun of my scar,” she says quietly.
And then she turns her eyes on me, looking hurt. “Is it really that ugly?”
I look at it, feeling anger. I could get those girls to shut up.
But I push down my emotions and shrug, acting like her feelings don’t matter.
“It’s big,” I answer, pulling out of the parking lot.
She turns back around, her shoulders slumping in sadness as she drops her head.
So fucking broken.
I mean, yeah, she lost her dad recently, and her mom is caught up in her own misery and selfishness, but every time I see Rika, she looks like a feather that will blow away with the slightest breeze.
Get over it already. Crying’s not going to help.
She continues to sit quietly, so small next to me, since I’m nearly six feet now. And while Rika isn’t short, she looks like something that has melted and is about to disappear altogether.
; I shake my head, checking my phone again for the time. Damn, I was late.
But then I hear a horn blow, and I pop my eyes up, seeing taillights race for me. “Shit!” I bellow, slamming on the brakes and jerking the steering wheel to the side.
Rika sucks in a breath and grabs the door as I spot a car stopped in the middle of the country road and another one swerving up ahead of me and then speeding off. I come to a screeching halt off to the side, both of our bodies pushing against our seatbelts with the sudden stop.
“Jesus,” I bark, seeing a woman kneeling in the street. “What the hell?”
The taillights of the other car grow smaller and smaller in the distance, and I look over my shoulder, not seeing any other cars coming.
Opening the door, I step out of the car, hearing Rika do the same behind me.
I walk over to the middle in the road, and as I get closer, I see what the woman is hovering over.
“I can’t believe that asshole just drove off,” she fumes, turning around to look at me.
A dog, barely alive, lies in the road, whimpering as it struggles for short, shallow breaths. There’s blood spilling out of its stomach, and I can see some of its insides.
It’s just a little guy, some kind of Spaniel, and my stomach rolls, hearing its strangled breathing.
It’s suffocating.
The prick that sped off must’ve hit it.