Sun Catch Her (Book 1: Three Rivers Deep series) COMPLETE

Chapter Three

We missed the wall by inches—barely.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" I seethed, doubling over. God, it wasn't a wonder Tennessee thought her erratic driving deserved an eight hundred dollar fine.

Fingers wrapped white-knuckled on the steering wheel, my aunt was unresponsive while our car returned to cruising speed. Finally, she glanced my way. "I didn't realize the turn was so sharp. Are you okay?"

Pain still pulsed through me as I fumbled with the bottom of my shirt, the damp material sticking in the heat of the late August evening. "I don't know." My voice came out shaky. I prodded my left side, wincing. "I-I think I may have re-fractured a rib."

Her expression went slack, clearly remorseful at the thought of re-injuring my healing wounds. "I'm sorry," she apologized and reached toward me. The car began to lose speed. "I'll pull over and take a look."

"No," I snapped, shrinking back against the door like a cornered animal. "I'm fine. Leave me alone."

"Aurora, sweetheart, I just want to make sure you didn't rip any stitches."

"Are you stupid?" I shouted and, pushed beyond my limit, I slapped away her outstretched hand. "The stitches are not in my side. They're in my shoulder where—" I took a deep breath and steeled myself for our ongoing argument as I finished shouting, "Where it bit me!"

Beyond upset, I scrambled between the seats into the back, out of Indy's reach. I took the gum between my teeth so I wouldn't inhale it. "Leave. Me. Alone. I'll be just fine." It seemed as if I was in a constant state of "just fine" nowadays.

Indy stared at me in the rearview mirror. I could see her gathering her thoughts as she prepared to come back with her usual retort, and it made me even angrier. "How many times do I have to tell you," she said through tight lips. "Your injuries are from the shrapnel that hit you in the explosion when fire reached a leak in the main gas line. Nothing bit you."

Yeah, right. The orange light from the setting sun reflected off the sloped surface of the Ford's teal trunk to fill the car with an ugly color as I stared back at the rearview mirror, jaw clenched, refusing to comment. Bitter, I wanted to laugh, but I knew laughing would only cause me more pain.

Lips pressed together in disgust, I drew in a deep breath. The air in the car stank as she retold the story of the gas leak for the umpteenth time. I could smell the rottenness of her outright lies even from back here!

Lies or not, I kept silent. I was weary of arguing. No matter how many times it was brought up my aunt stuck with the same absurd equation: "Gas line rupture" plus "flying debris" had resulted in me being mummified from the hips up for the better part of the time we spent traveling east.

With saliva starting to tartly thicken in direct correlation to my rising stress levels, I fidgeted with my clothes, smoothing my shirt down to make certain it covered the purple bruising. In silent aggravation, I chewed on my gum again, frowning as I took unhappy note that it was losing its minty flavor. Thanks a lot crappy, cheap gum.

Fuming, I turned my head to direct my angry gaze at the back of the seat. I was certain Indy was lying because I had a talent of sorts for recognizing when people were being dishonest. And if that wasn't enough, I was the one who had been injured. Yet she continued to argue. She hadn't been there. Nobody was there—at first.

A remembrance of gentle fingers whispered across my throbbing side and, inhaling slowly, I allowed it to soothe me. Remembering him always helped.

Seemingly satisfied with my silence, Indy's gaze returned to the road, certain there was going to be no more dispute on my part. Seeing her satisfaction, a sound of agitation slipped from me. Her blatant lying had been a source of frustration since leaving New Mexico, as was the slow-to-heal progression of my "gas explosion" wounds. I don't understand. Not one little bit.

I frowned as my gaze dropped to the silent radio, then shifted to Indy's stylishly spiked head.

Gas explosions tore people apart. They didn't leave widely spaced fang-shaped punctures that required stitches.

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Cheap Gum is the worst.
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