Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)

I watch the lights on the freeway illuminating the inside of the car every couple of seconds, my gaze drifting over to his strong hands as he flicks on his turn signal to take the next exit.

He clears his throat. “Thank you for coming today, the kids loved having someone else other than their boring dad to play with.”

“I had a great time, it was nice to do something fun for a change,” I reply, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake up Clayton and Izzie.

“It was,” he says, flitting his eyes back on the road. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much.”

I wring my hands in my lap. “Yeah, me neither.”

I’m silent for the next few minutes, not knowing what to say or do. Worrying my lip, I open my mouth to say something again but nothing comes out. I’ve been alone with him a couple of times now, but for some reason, this feels different. Almost like the darkness makes it more intimate.

“So…” I say, trying to distract my own thoughts that are telling me to ask him more questions about his life. “How’s your mom?” I have no idea why I asked that.

He quirks up his brow, he knows how I felt about her when we were together. “My mom?”

I shrug. “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he replies, driving through the tunnel toward Mom’s house before clearing his throat. “She and Edward are… a thing now.”

My head swivels toward him. “A thing… like… together?” He nods, screwing up his face in mock disgust. “But… what about your dad?”

He scoffs. “She divorced him the moment he set foot in prison.”

I smile, turning my head to look out of the window as we pull onto my street. “Good for her.”

“How’s your mom?” he asks.

I nod. “She’s doing a lot better now that I’ve moved back. I think she was lonely without my dad.”

“Your dad?” he asks, his brows drawing down into a frown.

“He passed away two years ago, it was hard on the both of us and I felt bad for living so far away. But she seems happy now.”

>

“I’m so sorry, Harm,” he says, coming to a stop outside the house.

I lift my beach bag off the floor and turn toward him. “He was a good man, and I miss him, but that’s life.” He nods, his hands twisting around the steering wheel as he turns away from me and I wonder if I should tell him about who my mom is. Deciding I should, I bite my lip before blurting out, “Tilly is my mom.”

His head snaps toward me, a shocked expression on his face before he chuckles a few seconds later. “That actually makes sense.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Why’s that?”

“She… I’ve caught her throwing me shade a few times, that’s all.”

I chuckle. “Don’t you say you didn’t deserve it.”

He turns away from me, the tension I’ve caused from what was meant to be a joke filling the car.

I clear my throat. “Thanks for today, I’ve had a great time.” I turn my head, smiling at the kids’ sleeping faces. “Tell them I said I’ll see them next Saturday.”

“Will do,” he replies, watching me as I shoulder my bag, opening my door and sliding out.

I shut the car door behind me and wave before spinning around and climbing the steps up to the front door of Mom’s house.

As soon as the door is closed behind me, I press my back against it, shutting my eyes and breathing in deep. What am I doing?

“Harm?” Mom calls.