“Yes. I got my driver’s license and a car,” I answer excitedly. “It’s in the driveway.
My mother practically slams her coffee cup down on the table, making Zac and me jump. “How many times have we talked about this and decided it was best for you to wait. How did you even manage to do all that without help? And how were you able to afford a car?”
“I…” I search for the right words that won’t exacerbate my mother’s annoyance.
“I helped her,” Zac pipes up, his eyes meeting mine across the room, and I silently thank him for coming to my rescue.
My mom looks at him in disbelief. “You? Why would you do that? You know we wanted her to wait. She’s not ready to be driving around. She could get lost—”
“She’s old enough to drive, Mom. She’s not a baby.”
“She’s not like other girls her age,” she says, as if I’m not right there in the room. “She has to be more careful.”
My brother glances at me, probably to make sure I’m okay, and then he confronts our mother. “She’s fine, Mom. She should be able to drive herself around. Stop treating her like a prisoner and a leper.”
I love my brother.
“Mom, I’ll be fine driving. It was costing a lot of money for me to use a taxi anytime I wanted to go somewhere, and I can’t expect Feather to drive me around. I’m sorry for not going along with what you and Dad wanted, but this is what I wanted to do.” I hold my own against her angry gaze, refusing to look away from her. “And the therapist thinks it’s a good idea for me to have some independence and start making my own decisions. She saw nothing wrong with me having a car and going for short drives.”
“I guess what’s done is done, then.” Her voice is flippant.
“I was hoping you’d be happy for me, maybe proud of me,” I say, not hiding the disappointment in my voice. “I’m just trying to live a normal life. I can visit you guys now, and go see Grandma, maybe even look for another part-time job.”
She smiles weakly. “Of course I’m proud of you. I just think you should have waited. And your father would have bought you a nice, safe car.”
“The car she has is fine, Mom,” Zac says, even though he hasn’t even seen it.
My initial excitement, which filled me during the drive here, has deflated. I had hoped my mother would be happy for me and see how much I’ve grown over the past few months. And I had stupidly hoped I could tell her how I felt about Tyler and have a real mom-and-daughter talk like I’d seen on Gilmore Girls, but that just isn’t going to happen. I don’t have a best friend relationship with my mother. I don’t even have a mother-daughter relationship with her.
“Well, I just wanted to stop by and say hello. I was on my way to the bookstore,” I lie.
“I’ll call you during the week. I have to get ready to go to the salon.” My mother stands and hugs me, still holding her coffee, and I’m afraid she’s going to spill it all over me. “Maybe you can come for dinner one night.”
I won’t hold my breath for that. “Okay.”
“Keep your car doors locked, even when you’re driving. Someone could grab you at a red light. And stay off the highway, it’s way too dangerous.” I nod at her, making a mental list of everything she’s saying. “And wear your seatbelt.”
“Jesus, Mom, she’s not a fucking accident magnet,” Zac says. He moves toward me. “I’ll walk you out.” He touches my elbow and steers me out of the house and right to the front of my car.
“Okay, she can’t hear us. Where did you really get the car from?”
I look down uneasily, unable to lie to my brother. “Thanks for covering for me. I really appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome,” he says. “Mom doesn’t need to know where it came from, but I do.”
“Zac…”
“I’m on your side, Holly. I love you. But don’t start shutting me out.”
I straighten my shoulders and look my brother in the eye. “I got the car from Tyler.”
He looks at me quizzically, then a flash of recognition lights up his face.
“Tyler Grace?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Is that where you’ve been spending your time?”
I nod again. “Yes. I help him in his workshop. And I told you Poppy lives there, so I get to see him.”
He lets out a low whistle. “Holly…”
“He’s my friend, Zac. He’s good to me. He understands me.”
“He’s not right in the head, Hols. I know he saved you but—”
I refuse to listen to the “buts.” “You’re wrong. Those are just horrible rumors. He’s smart, and sweet, and caring. He saves animals, and he bought me blankets. He taught me to drive and got me this car. We talk and text for hours—”