Falcon & Jaguar (4)

Andrew stirred in the passenger seat.

"How long was I out?"

I set my coffee in the cup holder. "About two hours."

"Jesus Christ..."

"You were tired. I don't blame you."

He straightened up and ran a hand through his mussed curls. "Do you want me to drive for a while?"

I shook my head. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

My gaze flicked from the road to his eyes. Dark circles were inlaid under them, and their usual slate gray, almost silver color, was dull.

"It keeps my mind off things I don't want to think about and lets me think about things I haven't gotten the chance to think about yet."

"Oh."

We lapsed into silence as I returned my eyes to road.

"You turned off the radio."

"Nothing good on."

He hummed an acknowledgement and then asked: "So what have you thought about?"

Andrew's voice was soft, mildly curious, but still respectful about the fact that I might not want to answer.

"I - "

My throat closed up and I couldn't finish the sentence. I was going to bullshit an answer, but I couldn't even do that. I shifted uncomfortably, the seatbelt suddenly feeling too constricting.

"I'm sorry," he answered quietly.

This time I was able to choke out a response. "Not your fault."

I saw him nod in my peripheral vision and turn his face towards the window. A wave of gratitude that he wasn't watching flooded me as tears slid silently down my face. My blurred vision stayed on the road as I breathed through my mouth to keep the sniffling at bay. As we passed another sign giving us mileage to Omaha, I felt Andrew's hand slide into mine. He squeezed gently and I returned the gesture. I meant to let go, but I hadn't. Instead, I clung tightly to his hand, fighting desperately to keep myself together.

Neither of us said anything and I wasn't sure whether that was because we didn't have anything to say, we didn't want to say anything, or if it was simply because we didn't need to say anything. Everything that could have been voiced was already expressed, silently, with his simple and profound gesture. We'd gone from comrades to friends with a single touch.

As the others started to wake in the backseat, I was sure Andrew would pull away so that we didn't raise suspicions, but he didn't. He just continued to let his thumb stroke back and forth across mine as we both watched the empty highway disappear under the tires.