Vaughn is parked next to me. When asked why we have to carpool, Winter gives no good answer. Evidently she just wants us to for the hell of it, like some sort of fucked up family field trip or something, and I’m too exhausted to argue. I’d find her excitement at the prospect of me and Vaughn getting along to be borderline mocking if it were anybody else, but I know her intentions. I know this is what she’s always wanted.

Honestly, only Winter Torres is smart yet unhinged enough to somehow turn an event as horrible as the parking garage incident into the potential for a net positive.

She makes me sit in the front seat.

“What.” At this point she just wants to torture me. Who knew sweet, kind Winter was actually a sadistic psychopath. Crazy.

“I don’t know, it’s a two door and I like the backseat.” She lies, because I know she doesn’t like the backseat since it occasionally makes her car sick. I guess she forgot she told me that. Or she doesn’t care, fully aware I won’t call her out on it.

Still, arguing is pointless, and next thing I know I’m seated inside Vaughn’s truck for the first time. Right next to him. When he shifts gears his hand is only inches from my knee, and this is why I’m distracted as he begins to pull out of the parking spot without any sort of greeting.

“Did you remember your homework?” When he speaks to Winter a moment later, I refuse to look at him. Instead I lean my head back and close my eyes, partially because my head hurts due to lack of nutrition but mostly because I need to avoid looking at Vaughn. I need to avoid any distractions at all costs.

Then again, maybe seeing him more often will make me react less to his presence. God, I hope so.

“Mm-hmm,” Winter hums an affirmative, sounding way too chipper for the situation.

It delves into silence.

I’m absolutely not gonna be the one to fucking break it. I’m barely awake, and all I can see is my father’s face. I begin to wonder if closing my eyes is actually worth it. What’s worse, risking getting caught staring at Vaughn or being faced with memories that will surely drive me to insanity?

Finally, I open them, risking a glance at the man. He’s paying attention to the road, but is coincidentally looking in my direction right as I do this—making sure the turn is clear or something. This results in us locking eyes, and I practically slam my head back against the headrest, staring at the road again.

I spend the rest of the ride attempting to comprehend the random topics Winter brings up to fill the silence. It’s difficult since I’m so distracted by the ridiculous sensation of oncoming doom. This won’t go well. I know this won’t go well.

Why did you say yes?!

That’s what I want to ask him, but I can’t bring myself to be the person to start a conversation with him. I quite literally never have before, unless yesterday even counts. He’s obviously still mad. Even I have my limits. So, I wait.

And eventually we are pulling into the parking lot of Torres Automotive.

The first thing I’m surprised by is the fact that there are no other cars here, further supporting my idea that Vaughn doesn’t have any employees, which would be crazy. He definitely gets busy, but I guess—from what I can tell—he’s also pretty stubborn. Maybe he thinks of the workload as a challenge or something.

Maybe that’s why he said yes. Maybe I actually will add something, maybe he truly does need the help.

The second thing I’m surprised by is how clean it is. Last time it was too dark in here for me to see, but—especially with Vaughn constantly in the state he’s in—I did not expect it to be so organized. It’s a mechanic shop, after all.

Vaughn takes a phone call almost immediately.

Winter and I huddle.

“Okay,” she starts quietly. I am staring at her dad. She doesn’t notice. “So the date is at 5–”

I wonder who he’s talking to. He doesn’t appear frustrated or anything, a patient expression on his face, and I wonder if it may be a customer or something. Maybe he has plans for the day already? I don’t know.

“My dad said he’d still be here tonight, and I don't think it’ll take super long, so Pierce is probably just gonna drop me back off here since you’ll be stuck.” Which was definitely on purpose. Winter is still talking. I try to pay attention before I get caught staring, but it’s hard. I’m nervous. I won’t calm down until I know exactly what’s gonna happen every second of today. Something just feels wrong.

As predicted, the day goes by slow and excruciating, if I’m honest. The shop is quiet. Not peaceful-quiet, more like funeral-quiet. Vaughn’s voice is low whenever he talks, which isn’t often. He doesn’t explain anything beyond what’s necessary and what I ask questions about. He just vaguely tells me what to do, where to go, hands me a wrench and nods toward a rusted truck like I should know what to do with it. Which I guess I do, to an extent. All of my car knowledge is either dated or racing centric, though, so I know I’m in trouble if things get more complex. I assume they will with time.

I sweep the floor. Organize a tool cart. Help him lift a tire. I try not to fumble, try not to look confused. My hands shake a little, but not enough to draw attention. I get grease on my shirt. I don’t care, since it’s not noticeable due to the dark color of my clothing. I probably wouldn’t care, I’m covered in blood half the time anyway.

Winter stays present for a while, mostly sitting on a large overturned barrel of some sort and swinging her legs like a kid, visibly in fucking heaven I guess. She talks enough for all three of us, filling the silence with nonsense—school, songs stuck in her head, how hungry she is, the weird dream she had about a goat in a laundromat. I think she’s trying to make it easier. I guess it works, until she finally excuses herself to focus on homework, though she stays near.

Vaughn doesn’t say anything unless he has to. He doesn’t seem angry. Doesn’t seem impressed, either. Just… flat. Like I’m some shadow he has to tolerate. I don’t know what I’d prefer.

At some point, I catch him watching me, or at least looking in my general direction. Visibly studying. I look away first, feeling nervous, and that’s the second time today. I just want to go home and sulk, like I do every time I have a nightmare.

When time begins to pass too excruciatingly slow, I have to sing to myself. Low enough Vaughn doesn’t hear, especially since he has a speaker near him at half volume.

“So, bye-bye Miss American Pie,” I sing to myself, hidden under a car so I feel safe to do so. I don’t know why, it’s not like I have stage fright after all these years. “Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry.”

Time stretches. The light through the garage doors gets warmer, then cooler. The air smells like burnt rubber and metal. I start to lose track of what tools go where and double check everything five times because I don’t want to mess up. He doesn’t tell me if I do. He just re-does it. Quietly.

“And them good ol’ boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye—”

Pierce arrives to pick Winter up at around 4:30. I don’t make myself known in any way, instead watching him from underneath the car, though obviously it’s difficult to see through his tinted windows. That’s probably why Vaughn—who is extremely perceptive when it comes to his daughter—doesn’t pick up on anything. It was probably planned. I see Winter, giddy, say bye to her dad before practically skipping to the car.

She glances around the garage before doing so, likely looking for me, but I said bye earlier on purpose. If I were to go out there to see her off I’d probably snap. I’d give away her cover, the secret relationship I feel the urge to snitch on more and more with each passing day. Each light bruise. Each topic diversion.

Only when she’s in the car and Pierce is pulling away do I leave my spot, sliding out from under the sedan I was under and rounding it. I watch the sports car disappear into the distance, Vaughn looking a little on edge too. Maybe it’s some sort of parental instinct? I don’t know, but I don’t like this either.

Finally, Pierce disappears from sight. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach, the same one from before but stronger. I don’t like this.

Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die.

I let out a short breath I didn’t mean to hold, before finally taking advantage of the fact we’re alone now. I don’t know why, but I finally snap. It’s been bothering me all day, and I’m also just not doing well. Today has sucked, so I’m not as self conscious or riddled with anxiety as I usually am around him. I wheel around on Vaughn immediately, gaze intense, watching the man clean his hands off with a rag and raise an eyebrow at me.

This’ll be the day that I die.

“Why did you say yes?”