Deuce-ace roommate

34: Truck

DAISY

"I can't believe you. You're insane! You just got me fired from the only job I had." I blurt out as soon as he climbs into the driver's seat.

"At least now you won't get any more jobs. From now on, you won't do anything just because you think you want it." He retorts, his eyes flaring with confusing anger in the bright daylight. I can hear his loud breathing from the passenger seat.

"So I sit and wait for what pleases you?" My brows arch quizzically as I peer at him severely from beneath my eyelashes.

"Exactly. You only do what I say." He turns away and starts the engine, pulling onto the road.

"You don't own me," I sternly remind him of the reality of this situation.

"It's the only chance I can give you for forgiveness."

What? He's delusional. He still thinks that?

"Forgive me? For the hundredth time, I did nothing, so I won't plead for forgiveness. I don't need your forgiveness." My voice is too loud for the small, confined car heading toward a one-way crescent on some hillside.

"Shut up," he commands, his hands tightening on the wheel, his knuckles so white the skin could rip.

"You don't tell me what to do. If I want to talk, I will talk."

"If you haven't been listening, I said you will only do as I say." His eyes are dark when he twists his head to face me, though he should be watching the road.

"Kay."

"Don't call me that," he barks.

My eyes widen at the sight of an old truck approaching us. Kay is driving us on the wrong side of the road, and in the next five seconds or less, we could be crashing into an old orange monstrous truck.

"Kay...." I yell.

"I swear to fu—" His eyes flicker to the road, then back to me, then to the road again.

***

Fear and terror are the only emotions in me after what just happened in the past two seconds.

I think I had a heart attack—or almost had one. I can barely breathe properly after Kay pulls over to the side of the scanty road.

That's when it dawns on me: he almost killed us.

Oh my God.

"What is wrong with you?" I scream in the small, quiet car.

"Don't," he mumbles, his eyes on the wheel, his nose flaring with each breath.

"Don't what?" My eyes pop open wider, and I even scoff at his audacity. He just laid my life in jeopardy. I'm sure I have every right to scream. "You almost killed us. I'm at least entitled to know why you're acting this way."

"You're entitled to stay put and keep your mouth shut," he grits out, keeping his intense gaze glued to the wheel.

My head shakes involuntarily at the man avoiding my eyes. "You're fighting something. What is it?"

"I'm not fighting shit. Just shut up. I need to breathe." He grumbles and digs out a cigarette from the pack before climbing out of the car.

He doesn't think I'll leave it alone, does he? Oh no. After everything—last night and this morning, learning some news from Riley—I'm most certainly pushing for the conversation we've avoided since the first day we met in the penthouse kitchen.

So I exit the quiet car and take in the air of the universe.

Kay has one hand in his pocket and the other holding out the burning cigarette. I want to slap it out of his hand.