I turn on the radio and I drive. The car heats up quickly and I'm wearing my cardigan, and somehow I still feel cold. Reid hasn't said anything. I don't know that I want him too. I don't know what I want at all.

I shouldn't be driving, ever.

The windshield is fogging at the bottom. My vision is obscured. It's blurry. I'm exhausted. There is no connection between me and the road. All my thoughts are on Caro.

She's fucking right. Stéphane did come to me just now instead of her. I never check in on him in May. She changed her last name for me. Caro never wanted to leave Québec, and all these years I had assumed she'd chosen our brothers over Maman, but she didn't. She chose me. Everything she has done for me, and I can't even give her her own fucking wedding.

Then, I start to cry. My shoulders shake, but I bite my lip to keep the tears silent. I keep crying. A small whimper escapes as I try to contain it. I feel Reid's eyes on me.

"Pull over," he whispers.

I shake my head, "we're not going to get home until close to midnight if I don't-"

"Pull over, Cole," he repeats. "Please."

I nod my head. The blinker is so loud that it flicks on. Once we are finally on the side of the road, the car jolted to a stop atop some gravel, I park the car. I turn to look at him.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I look at him, and shake my head, "no."

He reaches over closer to me and turns the car keys. Reid pulls them out of the ignition, bringing them over to his side of the car. I wipe a tear out of my eye, hopefully the last of them. They've mostly dried on my face.

"Sorry, I should be asking if you're okay," I manage. "You already weren't having a good night and then I left you alone to go yell at my sister and-"

"You took six steps away from me. I wasn't alone," he manages.

I bite my tongue, closing my eyes, "she's just right. Sorry. Caro's right. I do make it about me all the time. It's her wedding, and maybe she is kind of the worst but she's my little sister."

Reid looks at me. He unbuckles his seat belt and opens up his car door. He stands out there for a minute. I dab at my under eyes. Tomorrow I'll make sure my mascara is waterproof. It's not smeared that much at least, but I don't want to be more of a mess then.

The driver's side door opens. Reid stands there, holding out a hand. I unbuckle myself and take it. He closes the door behind me. The air is somehow less cold, even though it's only later in the evening. Still, I lean closer to Reid. I rest my forehead on his chest. His body is so warm, perfectly warm. I close my eyes, taking in one breath before I pull back.

"Sorry," I manage. I feel like myself again. "I just needed to calm down. I was being mean to spite her. I haven't accepted a spot at Malmö. Honestly, I don't think I'm going to agree to go. It was immature to try to be so cruel."

Reid moves so he's standing next to me. Our backs press against the car door. He's still holding my hand. He's the closest he's ever been. I can't even imagine him getting closer.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks. "What happened in May?"

All I do is take in a deep breath. Over the years, I've travelled far. Australia, England, France, everywhere I could to get away. To create space. And I don't think I can let him in all the way. I can let him in just a bit closer though. Some of this space can be occupied by him too. Not all of it, but close enough.

"When I was fifteen, we lived in Québec," I tell him. "I told you we left because Maman was negligent. And she was, but that's not why we left. Dad never wanted kids, so we didn't have a choice in the move up north. I was... well, Stéphane..."

I close my eyes. Just me. I'm saying it just to me.

"Stéphane's best friend kidnapped and killed my best friend," I manage, then I open my eyes. Truths and lies mix together. "Karine. Her name was Karine. I was... well, it was my fault. I was supposed to walk home with her since she was fighting with her mom, but I was in a fight with my boyfriend and I got distracted. She went over to spend the night at Stéphane's friend's place instead. She was dead by lunch the next day."

If I were more French, I'd smoke a cigarette. Instead, I lean against the car and look up at the night sky. There are stars, not city lights. It's not a balcony, but it sort of feels like one.

"Don't tell me it's not my fault, also," I stare up above me. "Logically, I'm aware of that. It's His fault. Completely. But, Stéphane blames himself entirely since he kind of egged his friend on. Stéphane knew he liked Karine. They played hockey together. And I guess if Stéphane blames himself, maybe I can too, a little. I was the one that found Karine. In his basement. It wasn't pretty."

It wasn't pretty. That much is true. Most of it is true. Not enough of it is. I could have told him everything. Where a French-speaking twin found a girl in the basement of a small town's hockey star. A girl who was fighting with her mom and her boyfriend, and went over to His house the night before.

I could have told him Karine isn't real, and that there was no murder. Then, there would be no space between us ever again. And maybe my upset would seem more reasonable about the date of the wedding. Maybe Reid would look at me the same way, and not like how everyone treated me in our small town.

When the trial came around, His name was public record but there was a publication ban on the victim's name. On mine. Small towns don't need newspapers to spread gossip. Nobody ever looked at me the same again. Not strangers in shops, not my friends, and certainly not my siblings. I was never Colette Morel. I was His Victim. Then eventually, I wasn't even Colette Morel anymore.

But maybe Reid wouldn't look at me differently. Talking to victims of crime is part of his job. Maybe he'd hate me like Caro, or pity me like Stéphane, or give up on me like Bastien. Maybe if I said what actually happened aloud, just two days before the anniversary, it would be something that happened to me. Here, on this continent. And if I don't talk about it, then it can't be something that bothers me, and it can't be something other people know and see as a weakness in me.

"You're the only person who knows," I tell him. "I've never told Estelle."

Reid squeezes my hand. I had forgotten I was holding it. Our fingers are woven together like a knit scarf. It's wrapped around both our necks, and I know somehow that holding onto him like this is not a noose. Maybe that's why I'm so warm.

"Thank you for sharing it with me," he manages.

I laugh a bit, and then wipe my eyes because there are still remnants of tears on it, "don't thank me."

I didn't really share it. I didn't tell him about the terror, about how I was only going over for dinner, how I didn't know his parents were out of town. I didn't tell him how he put cough syrup in my drink so I'd get drowsy, how I dozed off while watching a movie, waiting for my brother to arrive since He pretended to call Stéphane. I didn't tell him what happened when I woke up. What happened that whole night. How I lost my voice begging for my life, and how I couldn't even resurrect it to beg him to kill me towards the end.

When I look up at Reid, I see him. I never thought being close would feel so warm, and that I would like the heat. Perhaps I should be concerned with the idea of unravelling. The featured ends of a noose, a loose thread in a scarf. If he were to leave, what then? I think he could drive back to DC and I could end up studying in Sweden, and we might feel just as close. Proximity is about space and time but it's also about knowing. A deep curiosity that bends more and more space out of the universe to bring him next to me.

"I am happier living a life knowing," Reid tells me. "I like standing on the side of the highway with you just as much as I like fighting with you, which is more than you expect."

I laugh. It takes me by surprise, spilling out of my mouth in a terrible mess. He exhales one laugh, but then when I don't stop, he joins in. My stomach is in stiches, aching from the laughter. Maybe I like fighting and crying with him too, but I definitely enjoy laughing with him the most.

Down the road, headlights turn on. A car starts to come toward us. So, I collect myself as best as I can. My fingers wrap around the driver's side door handle, but Reid leans against it. He doesn't pull up.

"We should get going," I tell him.

He looks down at the car lights, then back at me.

I feel my smile start to break as my brows knit, "what?"

"You're going to hate me," he shakes his head.

The car gets closer and pulls over just behind us. I'm blinded by their headlights. Then, the car finally stops. The passenger door opens and Caro steps out of the car. I look at her, then back at Reid.

"When are you going to learn to ask permission before you offer me help?" I try not to smile, and it's much harder than I expected.

Reid shrugs, "when it stops working out in my favour, I think."

I turn back to Caro. She stands opposite me. Her face is pink, the same way mine gets when I'm upset too. We have the same cheekbones, and the same face shape, and we're about the same height too. And she's my sister.

She jumps up and hugs me. I hug her back, tightening my arms around her.

"Sorry," she whispers. "I wasn't being fair, earlier. I just... I can't bare the idea of losing you again. I thought... well I thought you could forget about May. As if somehow loving me would be enough."

I feel thin in her fingers, like the cold wind will take me.

"I lied about going to school in Sweden," I don't let go as I tell her. I'm not letting go. "And if loving you was enough, I wouldn't even know how to spell the word May. I'd think there were only eleven months in the year. I'm sorry."

"Me too," she manages. "Cletus says you're just like me. We're both too stubborn to quit when it's good for us."

She giggles and I join in, holding her as tightly as I can.

"Maybe he isn't stupid then," I whisper. "I can learn to love him. If he's sticking around, anyway. I know I am."

~~~~~

I'm obsessed with the new scheduling feature. I wrote the chapter in September of 2023, and then added it to the publishing queue on the 1st of January 2024, and so I'll have forgotten all about it when it's published. Let me know what shocked you the most, what was craziest or most surprising or most emotional! We've still got a decent chunk of the book left, of course and plenty to happen.