He laughed, switching hands on the steering wheel and leaning his elbow on the center console. “What other way is there? You either believe in a higher power or you don’t.”
I traced the lean lines of muscle in his forearm with my eyes, noting the comfortable way he gripped the wheel, the confidence that showed even through his dark sunglasses.
“I believe in the universe, and in things happening for a reason.” I paused. “And, yes, I guess I do believe in a higher spirit.”
“In God?”
“Not like the old white man with a beard and a staff but yes, I believe in God.”
“Why?”
I laughed, the sound foreign as I shrugged my shoulders and tossed my hands up. “I don’t know, what do you mean why? You’re telling me you don’t believe in anything greater than yourself?”
“I believe in science. And science has given me absolutely zero reason to believe there is anything or anyone watching over me, or dictating my destiny, or promising that life doesn’t just end when this—“ He thumped his chest with a fist. “Body stops working.”
“I believe in science, too. But science only goes so far sometimes, and then something else takes over.”
“God,” he mocked, the tiniest smirk on his lips as he glanced at me.
“Maybe,” I defended.
Emery shifted his weight again, hand sliding down to grip the bottom of the steering wheel as the traffic began to clear. “I think religion, in any form, is just the result of fear. Fear of dying, fear of being alone. We all want to believe that we’re special, that some man in the sky loves each and every one of us, even with our flaws.” He shrugged. “But the truth is we’re just humans. We’re just animals. And when we die, we become food for the earth and the bugs. The circle of life.”
“That’s a little morbid.”
“I think it’s comforting.”
I balked. “How in the world is that comforting to you?”
Emery looked at me then, and I only saw myself reflected in the lenses of his shades. “Because we’re just a blip on the radar, Cooper. Just like every other animal before us. And no matter how much we take while we’re here, we always have to give it back.”
His eyes went back to the road and I heard the click of the turn signal before we rounded a semi, picking up speed. Emery reached for the music dial but I stopped him.
“Wait.” My hand wrapped around his wrist and he looked to me, fingers still on the dial. My cheeks flushed with heat as I dropped my grip, clearing my throat. “We should play a game. A road trip game. How about twenty-one questions?”
“That’s too many.”
I laughed. “Okay, well, what’s the magic number of questions you’re okay with, Emery Reed?”
He didn’t smile. “Zero is preferable.”
“Oh, come on,” I pleaded, turning in my seat a little so I could face him. I adjusted my seat belt over my shoulder and tucked my prosthetic under the opposite knee. His eyes hadn’t fallen to my leg yet, hadn’t inspected it, hadn’t realized I was lacking. I wondered if they would, and if so — when. “Humor me. We’re going to be stuck in this car together for who knows how long.”
He still didn’t answer.
“How about ten?”
“One.”
“Five.”
He huffed. “Fine.”
I smiled in victory, fingers unwrapping my long braid just to rewind it again. “Okay. First question. Why are you on a road trip to Washington by yourself?”
“I’m not by myself.”
“Well, you were,” I deadpanned.
We slowed again, hitting another string of traffic. “I told you, I just have to see something.”
“You know, this game doesn’t work if you don’t give me just a little more detail than that.”
Emery’s jaw tightened, and I watched his chest as it pushed a long exhale down. “My grandmother just passed away, and there’s a place in Washington that was her favorite in the world. She made me promise I would go see it.”
I swallowed. “Were you close with her?” I didn’t want to say I’m sorry. No one ever did when death came up, though it seemed to be what we all went for automatically, anyway.
“That’s two questions. I think it’s my turn.”
I threw my hands up. “You’re right. Okay, your turn. Shoot.”
“Why did you get in a car with a stranger to travel across the country?”
My jaw hung open. “Hey, that’s not fair! You asked me to come!”
“I didn’t say I didn’t. I asked you why you got in the car.” Emery raised one eyebrow, glancing at me for just a second before turning his attention back to the road.
“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I’ve been wanting to go to Washington, anyway. It was a free ride.”
“Oh, come on,” he chided, his voice mimicking mine as he repeated my words back to me. “You know, this game doesn’t work if you don’t give me just a little more detail than that.”
I swallowed, eyes trying to catch on the little yellow lines as we zoomed through them. I wanted to give him a real answer, I just hadn’t figured it out yet myself.
“I was dying in that town,” I finally said, my voice low. I wondered if he could hear me over the wind. “And I don’t want to die before I’ve even had the chance to live.”
I was just as surprised by the words as Emery was, his sunglasses reflecting my face again as I watched the two creases form between his eyebrows.
“My turn,” I said quickly. “Why did you ask me to come with you?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he said with a smirk. “You’re a girl. And you’re hot.”
My entire face burned like I’d opened an oven door and stuck my head inside. “I… um…”
“What?” he probed. “You don’t think you’re hot?”
I laughed, splitting another end off the tail of my braid.
“You really don’t,” he mused, watching me curiously. I couldn’t look at him now. “I was just kidding, Cooper. Not about you being hot, because you are, but about why I asked you to come.”
I still didn’t turn to him, lip pinned between my teeth. “So, why then?”
It was silent, only the hum of his car and the oddly comforting sounds of traffic filling the space between us. He stalled long enough for me to glance over at him again, and when I did, he was watching the road, his jaw tight.
“Because I know what death from the inside looks like,” he said.
I watched him, waiting for more. And… what? You didn’t want me to die? You wanted to save me? You thought I was too young to die? But he didn’t continue, so I pulled my leg from under the other, feet planted on the floorboard.
“You asked me in the diner what makes me happy,” I said. “What about you? What makes you happy?”
Emery full-on smiled, and the brightness of that smile was enough to make me forget how to breathe. The wrinkles at the corners of his lips, his teeth in a straight white line, his sunglasses lifted on his cheeks — it was beautiful. “I know I said five questions, but you’ll have to settle for two. We’re here.”