Find Her, Keep Her (CFTM Sequel)

Chapter 27 (Part 1)

*Note: Click the Youtube link above to listen to the Audiobook Version of this chapter voiced by Kristen featuring music by Paramore, The Used, Death Cab for Cutie, ThisWillDestroyYou, and All The Luck In the World.

Elias

I used to love the road.

The first time Tanner gave me the keys to his beat up Wrangler my heart caught on fire. I still remember the burn-- the way the roar of the engine raced through my veins like a drug.

The inside of that car smelled a little bit like leather, dust, and danger, and I was head over heels the first time I got behind the wheel.

Driving was like breathing back then. I'd cruise around San Diego with my windows down, and let the salty air stream in. Getting lost on those beach side streets was everything back then.

It saved me from my dad. It saved me from some of my bad habits, and was the only place I felt at peace. Until the night I smashed that Wrangler to pieces.

I keep seeing it--the ghost of my accident at every crosswalk, every stop sign, everywhere.

Every time I pull up to a traffic light, old fears paralyze me to the point where I can barely drive through an intersection once the light turns green.

My body tells me to go. To put my foot on the gas and speed past the memories that keep popping out of the shadows. But my heart's hesitating.

It's running around my ribcage beating holes through my chest, but I'll be fine as long as Jersey can't hear it.

I don't want her to.

I don't want anything else about this day to go wrong, so I drown out the sound with the radio.

I've been hiding behind the music since we started driving, but she's been too distracted to notice.

She's been singing for the past hour, just rocking out to KROQ while I've been low key losing my shit.

Every time a song ended I kept panicking thinking that she'd turn to me, see how wired I was, and start asking questions, but she didn't.

She still hasn't.

And I'm grateful for it.

I'd rather watch her sitting in the passenger's seat in silence, hair blowing in the wind, eyes glued to the taillights streaming down the highway, then try to explain everything that's wrong.

Jersey doesn't know that every minute I drive I still see broken glass, twisted metal, and blood all over the concrete. She doesn't know I still feel my broken bones or that sometimes I mistake the songs on the radio for the sound of police sirens.

She's lost in her own world--just existing right next to me, without picking apart my broken pieces.

She lets me be, and as hard as it is to keep acting like I'm okay when I'm not, I feel more okay because I'm here with her.

"You ready to change up the music, rockstar?" I ask.

She finishes her air guitar solo on The Used track playing and turns down the radio.

"What for? The last couple songs were classic rock gold and Nirvana's up next! That's like vintage , Elias. We can't tune out now."

"I'm not that into Nirvana, actually."