[Dawn]
In the longest road trip I’ve taken since I was a kid, I feel like I’ve barely said half as much as I did back then. The silence between us is almost suffocating, heavy like the humidity of a storm that refuses to break.
After our night of sex, Aldo is still paranoid and awkward on the road. Even after we talked to his parents and Luca.
It’s like every time we get in the car, he transforms into someone else-someone distant, locked inside his head. I’ve tried everything: talking, not talking, even sharing pieces of myself I’d kept buried for years. But nothing sticks.
The rumble of the engine vibrates through the floor, filling the space between us. Outside, the highway stretches endlessly, a ribbon of gray under a pale, washed-out sky. The monotony of the road mirrors the emptiness I feel when I glance at Aldo, his profile hard and unreadable.
I know he’s not telling me something, and it eats at me. The tension coils in my chest like a spring, tightening with every mile.
For some stupid reason, I waste the morning trying to get him to talk. Trying to get him to crack a smile or maybe even reference last night-our night. But his responses are clipped, his tone evasive, and I feel like I’m talking to a stranger.
I spend the hours questioning everything. Questioning myself.
That’s when it happens. I curse myself, wondering if I’ve just overestimated everything between us.
I press my forehead to the window, the glass cool against my heated skin, and let the hum of the tires distract me. Outside, the horizon never really alters. Our road keeps going. At least we’ve not sunk so low as to talk about the weather.
“At least the weather in Philly wasn’t too bad,” Aldo says suddenly, his voice breaking the spell. “Jersey is still good too.”
I bite my tongue and roll my eyes toward the sky. Of course, I had to jinx it.
The silence that follows is thick, loaded with unspoken words. I want to say something biting, something sharp to match the sting of his distance. But then again, I want to scream at him to just open up, to tell me what’s weighing on his mind.
Instead, I grind my teeth.
“You alright?” Aldo asks, his voice soft now, laced with concern.
“Yeah, fine,” I lie reflexively, my tone colder than I mean for it to be.
“Okay,” Aldo replies, glancing at me sideways. There’s something in his expression-a hesitation, maybe even guilt. “I just know that you grind your teeth when you’re frustrated.”
Does he now?
“So what would I be frustrated about?” I challenge, arching a brow.
A small grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, faint but enough to stoke the embers of my irritation. He licks his lips and gestures at the road ahead.
“Look, I know I haven’t been a great driving buddy these last couple days. I know I’ve probably changed and seemed off.”
“Off is an understatement,” I mutter, crossing my arms and leaning back in the seat.
“And I know I should just tell you what’s up.” His voice wavers slightly, like he’s searching for the right words. “But it’s still so odd that I don’t even know what to say. Or how to begin it.”
“Are you talking about our hookups these last few days or something else?” I quip, unable to stop the bitterness from creeping into my tone. I’m hurt, and it’s coming out in all the wrong ways.
Aldo rolls his eyes and gives me a half-smile, his expression caught between amusement and regret. He knows I’m hurt.
“I haven’t meant to react the way I have,” he begins, his voice more serious now. “First, I was overthinking everything between us and what Andre would think.
Then the car crash and what Luca would think. Now these bratva, if that’s who they are following us. I just feel overwhelmed. And pulling away from you doesn’t help that. I’m sorry.”
The words hit me harder than I expect, and I feel a lump forming in my throat.
Still, I sit there with my arms folded, unwilling to let my guard down just yet. He owes me the whole truth, not just fragments.
“Those guys that tried to run us off the road-”
“That made us crash?” I interrupt, my voice rising slightly.
“Exactly,” he nods. “They were the pens at the hotel. They were the ones we saw on the highway and then lost. Well, they were also at the gas station. I saw them when you went to the toilet.”
My stomach drops. “They found us?”
“Well, more than that. They wanted me to see them. So I went out after them. I was so pissed off. I got so angry at them for messing with us and making us crash. Ruining the front of the car, and-” His voice catches, and he swallows hard. “I got so angry at them for putting you in danger.”
His words send a flood of heat through my chest, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
“I went out after them. They led me out into the car park.”
“Why’d you do that?” I blurt, panic lacing my voice. “It could’ve been a trap. It could’ve been something to hurt you. They could have-”
“Done many things,” Aldo says, cutting me off, his tone sharp but not unkind. “And once I was way out there, by the last truck, I realized I’d left the most important thing back at the gas station.”
“The van?” I say, confused.
Aldo doesn’t say anything; he just stares at me, his expression almost exasperated. And then it hits me.
He meant me…
“I ran back to you… The van. I thought maybe that was the trap. But it wasn’t. It was all just a message.
A message I’ve been trying to puzzle out. A message that I think Andre might know.”
“Of course,” I mutter, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose it was too good to be true, there being trouble without his cause.”
“Now I don’t know,” Aldo says, defending him. “I’m just guessing because of the note.”
“What note?” I demand, my heart racing.