Nova and Quinton: No Regrets (Nova #3)(32)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

“I guess so.”

“Has she ever let you drive it?”

I shake my head and then shrug. “I never asked her if I could.”

He gapes at me like I’m crazy. “Why the hell not? Do you know how badass those cars are?”

I shrug again. “Things are complicated with Nova.” That would be the understatement of the year.

He arches his brows as he pulls the beanie off his head and tosses it onto the seat between us. “Things are complicated with the car or is the girl’s name Nova?”

“Yeah, her dad named her after the car,” I explain as I put my frozen hands up to the heater vent, wishing we could get off the subject.

He appears impressed by this. “A girl named Nova,” he muses. “I’d really like to meet her.”

“You can’t,” I say hastily. “She lives in Idaho.”

“Okay, then I’ll visit her when she comes here next time.”

“She never comes here.” I’m being vague because the last thing I want to do is talk about my issues with seeing Nova. How I desperately want to, but at the same time I’m afraid to.

“Are you going to tell me the story behind why she doesn’t?” he asks. He shifts the truck and the engine groans in protest.

“There’s no story,” I tell him. Not one I want to share, anyway.

He looks me over with doubt as he presses the brake and stops at a red light. “Yeah, I’m not buying it.”

I drum my fingers on my knee, getting agitated. “Fine, there is a story behind it, but it’s a really long, f**ked-up story and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We have about a twenty-minute drive to your house,” he says. “You could at least start explaining why just the mention of her has gotten you all worked up.”

“Why are you being so pushy?” I ask. “You barely even know me.”

“But I do know you,” he insists, looking back at the road as the light turns green and he starts driving again. “You blame yourself for the accident and think self-punishment is a way to make up for the lives lost. You don’t have any friends or a girlfriend because you don’t think you deserve them. You did drugs because it helped you forget and because it was easier to deal with life when you were high. And maybe even because it was a way to slowly kill yourself.”

“Those aren’t the only reasons I did drugs.” I feel this compulsion to prove him wrong—to prove that he doesn’t know as much about me as he seems to. “And how do you even know all that? Did Greg tell you?”

He shakes his head. “Greg can’t tell me. Doctor-patient confidentiality, remember?”

What the hell? “Then how do you know?”

He presses his lips together as he watches the road, his jaw taut, his eyes hued with pain and penitence, and I swear for a moment I’m looking into a mirror. “Because I wasn’t describing you. I was describing myself about seven years ago.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure what else to say and I end up saying the first thing that pops into my head, which seems stupid after I say it. “Sorry.” Jesus, that was probably the stupidest thing I could have said. I know, because I hate when people say that to me. Sorry for what? That I made a huge, irreversible mistake and now I have to live with it forever?

“For what?”

“For flipping out.”

“You’re allowed to get pissed off sometimes. In fact, it’s good for you.” He pauses, pondering something as he slows down for the speed limit change as we get closer to a section of the city where stores line the streets instead of homes. “However, you could always tell me what’s up with the girl and that might make up for the bad attitude.” He grins at me.

I shake my head, but calm down inside. “Nova’s just…” God, how do I begin to explain what Nova is to me? “I’m not even sure what Nova is.”

“How did you meet her?” he asks interestedly.

I shrug uneasily. “She was going through a rough time in her life and sort of wandered into the house I was staying at… in the beginning we spent a lot of time getting high, but then she got better.”

“So that’s why you don’t see each other anymore?” he inquires. “Because she got better and you’re still working on stuff?”

“No, that’s not it.” I rake my hand through my hair, struggling to put my thoughts into words. “It has to do with the fact that she saved me and I…” I trail off as I almost start talking about my feelings for Nova, ones I’m still trying to figure out how to deal with now that I’m sober. “It’s really f**king complicated.” And it is. Because I’m in love with her, something I realized in Vegas. But I can’t admit it aloud because then it’d mean I was accepting it—accepting that my feelings for Lexi have changed. That I’ve broken my promise to her. Let go. Replaced her.

He considers what I said as he flips the blinker on to change lanes. “What do you mean when you say saved you?”

My pulse is hammering as I recollect everything that Nova did for me to bring me fully alive again when I was walking the line between life and death. “When I was going drugs and stuff she came down to Vegas and tried to get me to stop,” I tell him. “She never gave up on me and she was there when I decided to leave the streets and get myself cleaned up—she never gave up on me.”

He takes in what I said with great interest. “She sounds like a good person.”

“She is,” I say, nodding in agreement. “Too good, probably, at least to be with me.”

“Ah, and there it is.” He points his finger at me with accusation in his eyes.

“There what is?” I ask, puzzled.

He glances at me and I see something in his eyes I don’t like. Understanding. “The reason why she doesn’t visit.”

“Yeah, so. It’s a good reason.”

“I completely agree with you.”

I’m stunned by his response and the frankness in his tone. “You don’t think I should see her, then?”

“Not until you’re one hundred percent ready for it.” He steers off the main road and drives down the side road toward my neighborhood. “Relationships are complicated and can be messy and, for people like you and me, dangerous. You need to make sure you’re ready to handle whatever comes from it, good or bad.”