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Chapter Thirty-Seven
Point of View: Zoe

After we'd gotten into the car, I knew I should've canceled the drive. Nick's fists were so tight around the wheel that his knuckles were white and his nose was flared and his breath came out of it in shaking gasps. I watched the speedometer closely, though, and he was being careful to stay right on the mark with it. His eyes glued to the road. The first time I had an excuse to say something was when he almost ran a stop sign and had to put the brake on harder than he should've, and ended up a few feet over the stop line.

"Easy tiger," I said quietly.

He didn't answer.

"We're going to take a right here," I said. He flipped the left directional. "Nick, a right."

"God fucking damn it," he screamed, his voice pitched with emotion. He ripped off his seatbelt and got out of the car before I could stop him or say anything. He slammed the door, hard, and walked around to the back, where he leaned against the fender, his hands over his face.

I took a deep breath and punched the emergency flashers. That button was getting more damn use from this guy.... "Ohhh-kay," I whispered. "Here we go."

When I got to the back of the car, I stood there without saying anything. He was rubbing his eyes, his hair falling into his face a little bit, shirt only half tucked in, and looking like he just rolled out of bed. Oh, wait, that's right, too. Another car came up behind us, and I waved it around. "Waiting for some help with the battery," I explained, batting the back of the car. They waved and kept going.

"Nick," I said once the other car was gone around the corner, "What the hell is going on?"

"I can't take it," he muttered. "This is stupid. I can't take it."

"If it's stupid, why can't you take it?" I asked.

"Because," he turned around and punched the trunk of the car. "Fucking A!" he hollered.

I grabbed his arm before he could punch it a second time, "Hey! Hey! Mr. Cranky-Pants, stop beating up my car and talk instead of punching. And talk with words that are comprised of more than four letters." He wrenched his hand away from me and sat down on the curb, folding his face to his knees. "Is she your girlfriend?" I asked.

"No."

"But she was," I said.

"Yes."

"Okay, so what happened?" I asked.

"She dumped me because I went to rehab," I said, "For some dick dancer she has on tour with her. It's stupid."

I sighed, "Will you stop saying it's stupid? Unless you get worked up over nothing and you're willing to admit you just punched the crap out of the back end of my Prius for no reason, then it isn't stupid, is it?"

"No," he muttered.

"Okay then," I struggled to lower myself next to him, and he noticed and turned to help me, sticking his hands under my arms, bracing me until I was on the curb. It was possibly one of the nicest things someone had done for me in a long time that way. I stared at him, somewhat surprised by his kindness. As soon as I'd reached the curb, he'd turned back to his knees, where he rested his chin and stared at his sneakers. "Talk to me, Carter," I said, lightly pushing my balled fist into his arm.

He sighed, but it was a sigh of resignation, nothing else. He picked at his shoe laces. "I loved her," he said, "I tried to treat her so good. But I was depressed, and she's into partying. It was a bad combination, I guess. It wasn't hurt fault."

Somehow I doubt that, but okay.

"She was just-- she was there, I mean. We had a- an incident. Where AJ and I got in a big fight at a club and I kind of overdosed. I was in the hospital," Nick's voice was struggling to get the words out. "And she broke up with me because I was too messed up. And then the night with the accident... and the rehab... and I saw her with Dennis or whatever his name was, and..." Nick shook his head, "It hurt, a lot. I had to deal with all that, with her leaving me when I needed her most, and going for that... fucking Mexican gummy bear..."

I had to pretend to cough not to laugh at the description 'fucking Mexican gummy bear', but I managed to do it without him noticing. "So what was she doing here today then?" I asked, when I was certain my voice wasn't going to break from the concealed laugh.

"I don't have any clue," he answered, his voice flat and honest. "She has her own keys to my house. We were going to move in together after our tours ended." He rubbed his hands against the tar, palms down, in the dust along the curb. Another car passed us, looking out at us like we were crazy.

Suddenly self-conscious, I nudged him. "Hey c'mon, let's at least sit in the car. People are starting to stare at us."

Nick looked up just as another car, with a staring passenger, went around the Prius. "So?" he asked, "Of course they're staring, we're being weird." He looked at me.

"I don't like it when people stare at me," I answered. I started struggling up to my feet.

Nick popped up and pulled me up gently. He put my hand on his shoulder and bent down for my crutches, leaning against the curb, then he carefully held my arm until I'd gotten my hands into them. I was dumbfounded by this sudden... gentlemanly side of him. "Why don't you like it when people stare at you?" he asked. The irony of asking that after literally handing me the reason why seemed absurd and I did laugh this time. "Sorry, what?" he asked.

"These," I said, shaking the crutches for him to look at, "These things are embarrassing. I hate it when people stare because I think they're staring because of these." I'd never really told anyone that quite in those terms, and I felt my neck start to grow hot. Oh no way in hell am I being vulnerable, I thought, and I quickly turned to get back into the Prius. "Let's continue your drive."

Nick got into his side slowly and buckled up and waited until I'd done the same, then he hit the flashers and put his directional on for the right. The car started rolling down the road. Luckily, I didn't have a drive immediately following Nick, so we were able to complete the hour despite our little stop. Nick did relatively okay, his hands stayed on the wheel - and even though his knuckles were white from how hard he was clutching it, he didn't stray from eight and four. Plus, he stayed under the speed limit. He actually did well.

When we got back to his house and I'd gotten into the driver's seat, Nick was standing there as I was about to back up. He stayed there by the lawn, looking like he was ready to say something but never quite getting the words to his mouth. I really wanted to go home and take a bubble bath to relieve the tension, though, so I didn't wait for the words to come out.