“I know. But a year goes by fast.”
I scoff at her words. Right now, one fucking day feels like an eternity. Thinking about how I might feel a year from now feels like an impossible task.
“You’ll find it.”
Dilynne nods and then turns around to find me. “This is Elliot, by the way.”
I lift a hand. “Hey.”
“Nice to meet you. Dilynne said you needed a little therapy.”
“Excuse me?”
Hechuckles. “Don’t worry. It ain’t that kind of therapy.” He turns back to Dilynne. “I left the tools out there for you.”
She pats him on the shoulder and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek. “You’re a doll, Timothy.”
“Anything I can do to help. Just text me when you’re done.”
“Will do.” She spins to face me again. “Follow me, Grumpzilla.”
“Grumpzilla?” My feet carry me in the same direction that Dilynne is headed, taking in the piles of mangled metal on both sides of me. I’ve never seen so many destroyed cars before. Most of the piles are simply parts of cars—fenders, mirrors, rims, and everything in between. The tires are separate, though, stacked in towers near a fence on the back of the property. I can literally smell the rust in the air, which has me a little concerned.
“Yup. It’s your new nickname,” Dilynne says over her shoulder.
“That’s…surprisingly tame. You feeling all right?”
She shoots me a glare that’s sharp enough to confirm she’s exactly as unwell as ever. It’s when that look disappears that I should start to worry. “Trust me, I came up with worse options. Want to hear them?”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I shrug. “Honestly, I’m just waiting for you to tell me why we’re here.”
Dilynne turns a corner and that’s when I see a white BMW sitting all alone with a baseball bat, sledgehammer, and blowtorch next to it. Dilynne walks to the car and turns around to face me, fanning her arms out like Vanna White. “Ta-da!”
The sight of this car is making my adrenaline spike. “What the fuck is this?”
“I know it’s not the exact model of Tori’s car, but it’s close enough.”
“Why the fuck…”
Shegrabs the baseball bat from the ground and a pair of safety goggles from the hood of the car before walking back over to me. “You’re going to beat the shit out of this car.”
Her hands are outstretched, waiting for me to grab the bat and goggles, but I’m frozen. “You…you brought me out here to fuck up a car that looks like Tori’s?”
Pride radiates from the smile on her face. “Hell yeah, I did. Trust me, this is better and cheaper than therapy. Though eventually, you should talk to a professional about that witch.” She walks back over to the car and knocks on the hood. “But this is a great way to let out your anger, Elliot. A great place to start, at least.”
Nowhere on my bingo card for this year did I anticipate Dilynne orchestrating something like this for me. Then again, I didn’t see my fiancée walking out on our wedding either. I’m at a loss for words, though. There’s so much running through my head that I can’t even pinpoint one single thought.
So instead, I don’t think. I grab the goggles and bat from Dilynne, slide the goggles onto my face, and tap the bat into the dirt as Dilynne backs away from the car.
Then I swing.
The headlight on the driver’s side of the car caves in with a sharp crack, and something in my chest finally loosens.
“That’s it, Thorne!”
I barely register Dilynne’s encouragement because all it took was that one hit for me to snap. Sweat beads at my temples with every swing. I never knew the sound of a car crumpling beneath a bat could be so magical. It makes the lyrics of that Carrie Underwood song make so much more sense now.
Once the bat has lost its luster, I toss it to the side and grab the sledgehammer, ready to do more damage.