“Ah.” He nods and scans the yard like a P.I., then he leans in close and says very seriously, “It’s all clear.”
I laugh, but the air is still thick between us, clouding my head. I can’t force a smile.
His face grows serious again. “Are you two fighting or something?”
“No. It’s just...” I shake my head, unsure how to explain that it’s him. “It’s—”
“Me.”
I look up at him, and his knowing eyes examine me. “My parents love you, Gabe,” I say truthfully. “My mom is just—”
“Concerned.” The corners of his mouth turn down. He rests his wrists on top of the steering wheel and stares at the house.
“Should she be?” I ask carefully.
He shrugs. “She just wants what’s best for you, Liv.”
I nod my head thoughtfully. “Well, lucky for her, I’m a grown woman and can decide for myself what that is.”
The corners of his mouth turn up like he’s fighting a smile and it instantly lightens the mood. He laughs once and puts the truck in gear. “Yes, you most definitely are,” he says, peering over his shoulder as he backs out of the driveway. “I won’t argue with that.”
“Well, as long as you know.”
I watch Gabe drive along the familiar road that leads to the beach, stealing glances at him out of the corner of my eye. The windows are down and the warm summer air that’s swirling around the cab of the truck has removed any trace of our silent conversation.
The muscles in his arms flex as he shifts gears and plays with the nobs on the radio until he finds the right station. “How do you feel?” I ask, thinking of yesterday when every muscle in his body was rigid and tense and trembling beneath me. It knots my stomach just to think about. I don’t know if spending time with Gabe is a good idea or not, but I feel innately protective over him and not being there for him is a far scarier thought.
“I feel good. Really good, actually. I slept...well.” He gives me a sideways glance that spikes my curiosity. I glance over my shoulder at Roxy, thankful he has her. Her ears are flopping around wildly and she’s biting at the wind.
“So, did you tell your doctor?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation on practical matters, assuming he sees a neurologist to monitor his condition.
“That I got a good night’s sleep? No, but I can fill him in at my next appointment.”
“You know what I mean.”
He laughs quietly. “Yes, Mom, I called him this morning and told him about the seizure.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be your mom. I just don’t know what the protocol is.”
He gives me a small, sincere smile. “I know. I always call after I have one. They like to keep track of how often they occur, how long they last, things like that. They’ve been pushing me to have another surgery, but–”
“Surgery? What for?”
“They want to remove the scar tissue on my brain from the first surgery. They think that’s what’s causing the seizures.”
“Oh. Would that stop them from happening?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, are you considering it?”
“No,” he says surely.
“Why? I mean, if there’s a chance it could stop your seizures—”
“It’s brain surgery, Liv. I don’t know if I want to go through that again. Plus, all the same risks are there. I could have motor skill problems, which would mean more PT. It could affect my personality. I could have memory loss.”
I nod over memories of him struggling to tie his shoes, and getting so angry when he couldn’t. “I understand.”
“I was lucky after the accident.”
Lucky? I give him a dubious look.
“I didn’t lose a single memory.” He flashes his eyes at me and I think about all the precious moments we’ve shared. “That’s not something I want to chance twice.”
I swallow hard and try to ignore the gutting feeling of our past being erased. “Of course.”
He holds my gaze and I’m pretty sure that he’s thinking the same thing. “Shit!” He slams on the brakes and I lurch forward in the seat.
I look up and see the glowing red taillights of the SUV in front of us and my skin pricks with concern.
“You all right?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“You all right, Rox?” he calls through the back window, and she barks once.
“Gabe, are you sure it’s okay for you to be driving?” Is it safe for him to be driving? It’s probably a question I should have asked before I climbed up into the truck with him, but my brain was on sabbatical back at my parents’ house.
“Yeah. I told you, I’m fine.” He glances over at me. “I mean, I’m not technically supposed to, but I have Roxy and I always stay close to home. I’m just not used to having a distraction in the front seat with me.” He narrows his eyes, trying to make light of it.
I chew my lip and bob my head.
“I wouldn’t drive with you if it wasn’t safe, Liv. But if it makes you feel better, you can drive.”
I sigh and shake my head. “Can’t drive stick, remember?”
“Oh, I remember,” he says, smirking.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Well then, why don’t you teach me how?”
“Because I’d like to keep my transmission in one piece.” He glances over at me and I purse my lips.
Brandon tried to teach me how to drive his truck once. It was a stick shift like this one and it wasn’t a pleasant experience for anyone involved.
“Come on, let’s get some breakfast,” he says, winding the wheel and turning into Salty Lou’s parking lot, where we’ve eaten a hundred times before. They have the best chicken and waffles.
The diner is an old, white wood-paneled tin-roof house with a wraparound porch and wide windows that are painted with the weekly specials. It hasn’t changed a bit and by the looks of it, neither has the food. The gravel lot is already full of cars and the porch is filled with people waiting to be seated.
We climb out of the truck and Roxy prances around in circles in the back. “Rox, you wait here. Lie down,” Gabe says, patting a blanket in the bed of the truck, and she does as she’s told.
“You can’t take her inside? I thought that alert dogs are allowed.”
“People don’t really like to see a dog in a restaurant.”
“But she’s an alert dog. Screw those people.”
He drops his head so that he can look in my eyes. “Please don’t worry. I won’t have another seizure this soon.”
I furrow my brow. What if he’s wrong?
“If anything happens, just catch me, okay?”
“What! You have to weigh like two-hundred pounds!”
He laughs softly through his nose and wraps his arm around my neck. “Two-twenty.”
I’m momentarily distracted by that fact. Two hundred and twenty pounds of lean muscle. “Okay, you think it’s funny, but the thing is, I would try to catch you and you’d probably crush me!”
He shakes his head. “Come on, She-Ra.”
He leads me inside the diner and we file through the line of people waiting for a table.