CRYBABY | mitch rapp ✔️

23. closer

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
closer

"I hate this weather."

Mitch glanced up at the sound of Angeline's voice. He hadn't really been expecting her to talk, considering how quiet she had been for the past couple of hours. She had her legs curled up on the seat, a huge jumper on and some biker shorts as she leaned her head against the window. Rain lashed down on it, trickling down and making them both grateful that this car happened to have heated seats.

"I like it," Mitch replied.

The brunette furrowed her brows. "I will never understand how anybody could like the rain. Look how miserable it is. It makes my skin itch, it ruins your hair, and it's cold and just... ruins everything."

Mitch shrugged from the driver's seat, both his hands on the wheel as he drove through the empty, meandering roads. All that had surrounded them for miles were trees. So many trees.

"It can also be relaxing," Mitch said, "It can be a relief after weeks of hot weather, or sometimes..." He hesitated. "Sometimes falling asleep to the sound of it is nice."

"If I wanted to be relaxed, I'd smoke some weed," Angeline replied, one finger moving up to follow a slipping raindrop down the window. "I don't care what you say. It's the reason I chose Cali over London. Rain reminds me of... wet shoelaces whacking your ankles or having to get your school uniform on the radiator as soon as you get home because it's drenched and you have to wear it again in the morning where - oh, look - surprise! It's still raining."

Mitch hummed. "How depressing."

Angeline wished he'd stop being sarcastic and maybe add something to the conversation so she'd stop thinking about Zimmerman's lifeless body on top of her, but Mitch seemed more concentrated on the road ahead. At the same time, however, it looked like he could do this with his eyes closed.

"I've never been a very good driver," Angeline admitted, "I could never focus properly. I'd be like 'which side of the road am I meant to be on again?' and then forget which is left and which is right, by which point I'm like 'I should change gears' and then I'm like 'which gear am I in so I know which one to change it to?' and then I've hit the curb."

The corner of Mitch's lips twitched upwards ever so slightly, but he still didn't look at her. Something stirred in Angeline's stomach at the sight.

"Once this is all over, I am definitely referring you to somebody that can test you for ADHD," the dark-haired replied.

"Do you think I really have it?" Angeline frowned a little bit, moving her head from the window.

"I'm not a psychiatrist, but I'm nearly a hundred percent certain," Mitch said.

There was silence as Angeline considered his words. She hummed to herself, reaching forwards and turning up the radio a little bit. It was eighties music playing, something by The Police, so she didn't bother to spend ages fiddling with it until she found a station that she liked. She was pretty sure that would piss Mitch off and pull him out of the decent mood he seemed to be in.

Which Angeline didn't understand, by the way.

Wasn't he supposed to be angry at her? Furious, even? She'd just killed a man. An ex-colleague of his, in fact. Yet they'd only remained at the safe house for a few more hours as Mitch took phone call after phone call whilst Angeline remained cooped up in Mitch's bedroom, curled on his bed and hugging her knees to her chest as she tried not to replay what had happened over and over again in her head.

The sun was rising when some strange van pulled up on the driveway. Angeline made the mistake of watching it out of the window, her entire being freezing when she saw some men taking Zimmerman's body bag out, moving it into the back. She had yet another panic attack which Mitch managed to help her from when he came up and found her freaking out again.