Adam stormed out of the building, hating the way he felt like punching someone. Declan had visited and, as usual, started arguing with Ronan. It hadn't come to fisticuffs, but Declan had said something scathing about their father and something inside Adam had snapped. A part of him, the part of him that wanted to knock that smug expression right off Declan Lynch's face, was furious. They have no right, it whispered, no right to complain about their father.
Adam didn't want to agree. He didn't want to think that that tiny, violent part of him had a point. But he did, damn it all, he did. It felt like Declan, even though the eldest Lynch brother had no clue about what Adam had been through, was essentially saying that Niall Lynch, a man who had loved and cherished his family, a man worthy of being called a father, was the equivalent of a man like Robert Parrish, who spit at and hit and kicked and broke the people he had the gall to call family after everything he'd done to them. It felt like an insult to Niall Lynch and Ronan and Adam, even though he knew it wasn't. It was just Declan being Declan, and there was nothing Adam could do to change him.
Monmouth's front door opened and Ronan exited, hands shoved casually into his pockets. Even from a distance, Adam could see the suppressed rage burning in Ronan's eyes. Adam wondered if Ronan enjoyed burning himself on that flame.
Ronan caught sight of Adam and the flame in his eyes dimmed with an emotion Adam almost mistook for concern. He knew it was something else, though; there was no way in hell that someone like Ronan would waste his concern on someone like Adam.
Ronan headed for his BMW. Adam stayed still, watching until Ronan leaned his head out the window of the car. "Well? Get your ass over here, Parrish."
Adam jumped in surprise and did as he was told, sliding into the passenger seat. It was almost surreal; Ronan was mad and Adam was mad and usually they were like oil and water but right then they understood each other. Not completely, no, but more than either of them understood Noah or Blue or Gansey. Adam understood Ronan's hatred for Declan; Ronan understood Adam's frustration. It was silent, it was heavy, but it was there.
The car purred to life with a twist of the key and Ronan didn't bother with speed limits. He ever did, really, but there seemed to be more disregard for the law than usual. Adam found himself completely uncaring. He could see why this was how Ronan calmed himself down' something about going way over the speed limit made it feel like Adam was leaving everything behind but the road and the car and Ronan. Sure, it would all catch up to him later—the school fees and the nightmares and the memories and the stress—but on the road, going God only knew how fast, Adam was light. Adam was free.
Adam didn't realize he was crying until the tears started dripping onto his hands. Ronan glanced sideways when Adam let out a choked laugh. The lack of stress made wat for other emotions; fear and anger and sadness and pain that had been pushed to the back of his being for so long that he had nearly forgotten they were there. They hit him hard, right then, and came out as tears.
Ronan didn't say anything; the car never slowed. Ronan just took one hand off the steering wheel and rested it, palm up, on the center console in a clear invitation that Adam gladly took. He rested his hand atop Ronan's, their palms pressing together reassuringly. Ronan curled his fingers upward to gently twine them with Adam's; his hands were surprisingly soft. The soft pressure of Ronan's hand was comforting and Adam returned the gesture, albeit his hold was quite a bit tighter.
Ronan drove until Adam's tears stopped and for another hour or so afterword. Neither of them said anything, but they didn't have to; their intertwined fingers said more than any words ever could.