Tom's POV
"Then can I ask you a question too?" I asked, my voice low, cautious, like I was poking at something sharp and already bleeding.
She hesitated for half a second. "Uhm… okay," she said softly, but I felt it—the subtle shift in her body, the way her shoulders stiffened just a little.
"Why don't you drive yourself anymore?" I asked, keeping my tone even, but my eyes stayed on her face, watching every tiny reaction.
She tensed instantly. It was small, but fuck, it was there. Her fingers curled in on themselves and she looked away, suddenly very interested in the path ahead of us. "I told you," she said, a bit too quickly, "I like being driven around."
I stopped walking. Just like that. And when she realized I wasn't beside her anymore, she slowed too.
"I don't believe you," I said quietly. Not accusing. Just honest as hell. "I know how independent you are. You used to drive yourself everywhere."
She stayed silent, jaw tightening.
"Until that day," I continued softly, my voice dropping, "the day I found you crying with your phone pressed to your ear."
The air between us went thick, heavy as fuck. She didn't look at me, didn't say a word, but her breathing changed—shallower, uneven. And in that moment, I knew I'd hit something real. Something painful. Something she'd been desperately trying to keep buried.
"What was that call about?" I asked quietly, my voice careful but firm, because now that the door to her world was cracked open, there was no fucking way I was pretending not to see what was behind it.
"You were crying, like really crying, and then after the second phone call you looked… relieved. Happier. Like something heavy had been lifted."
She froze, staring straight ahead for a moment, jaw tight, like she was weighing whether she could say it out loud. Then she sighed, long and shaky, like the truth had been sitting in her chest this whole time, suffocating her.
"Uhm…" she started, then paused again, fingers tightening around mine. "I got a call saying my dad had been in a car accident."
My heart fucking dropped.
She swallowed hard before continuing. "The second call confirmed that he was unharmed. Totally fine." She let out a breath, but it wasn't relief—it was leftover fear. "Apparently someone rammed into his car from behind at full speed."
I felt her grip on my hand tremble.
"Luckily," she said, her voice quieter now, "he wasn't in the car. His security was. He anticipated the attack and countered it."
She shook her head slightly, like even saying it still didn't feel real. "But the whole entire ordeal just… shook me," she admitted, finally looking up at me, eyes glossy. "I don't think I can get back behind the wheel."
And fuck—there it was. The truth. Raw, messy, and terrifying.
After that, she just stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on nothing in particular, like the world in front of her had suddenly gone blurry. She avoided my gaze completely, shoulders tense, the silence stretching between us and feeling heavy as hell.
"I'm so sorry," I said softly, the words coming out slower than usual, like I didn't want to spook her or push too hard.
She glanced at me then, offering a small, tired smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's okay," she said gently, like she was trying to convince herself as much as me. Then she took a breath and added, "Now you answer my question."
I sighed, long and deep, already knowing there was no dodging this shit. My shoulders sagged a little as I looked away, staring at the gravel beneath our feet.
"Okay… uhm," I started, rubbing the back of my neck. "It was my best friend. Well—uhm—my old best friend." The words tasted weird in my mouth, like something unfinished. "Uhm… she's gonna start at Millwood again soon."
Her face immediately lit up in surprise. "Oh wow, that's great," she said quickly, genuine at first. Then she paused, her brow furrowing. "Wait—did she used to go to Millwood?"
"Yeah," I said, then shook my head. "No—I mean—I don't fucking know how to feel about it." I let out a short, humorless breath. "She left after middle school, and now she's just… back."
The words hung there, raw and unresolved.
Imogen didn't say anything after that. She just stayed quiet, walking beside me, letting the silence speak for both of us—and somehow, that silence said more than any reassurance ever could.