Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 392

Sylvia finally managed to steer the car out of the parking lot and onto the road, keeping a steady—if timid—pace.

Other drivers, catching a glimpse of her behind the wheel, seemed to sense the rookie in her and thought better than to honk or cut her off. They just gave her a wide berth.

About halfway home, the post-work traffic started to thicken. Sylvia’s nerves were fraying. She kept slamming on the brakes every time a car merged too close.

“Sylvia, when was the last time you actually drove a car?” Rupert asked, rubbing his temples. He was getting whiplash from all her sudden stops.

Clutching the steering wheel, Sylvia wracked her brain. Eight years ago? That sounded about right, but she didn’t want to admit it. She finally mumbled, “Sophomore year of college.”

Her mom had made sure she got her license early, but she’d never owned a car—when would she have practiced?

“Alright, just pull over for a second,” Rupert said, his tone laced with rare exasperation.

Sylvia eased the car to the curb.

Rupert hopped out, walked around, and slid into the driver’s seat. He buckled up, cool as ever.

His presence right beside her made her even more jittery. She glanced at him. “So… what now?”

A smirk appeared on Rupert’s lips. He gently turned her chin toward the windshield. “Now you watch the road. Take a right up ahead.”

“Okay,” she muttered.

Sylvia kept her hands on the wheel, but her mind was a mess. She just followed Rupert’s directions and hoped for the best.

The car crept along at a snail’s pace.

Rupert didn’t complain. He just quietly told her where to go, never once criticizing her for driving his fancy car like it was a bumper car at the carnival.

At last—miraculously—they pulled into his garage without a scratch.

“We made it,” Sylvia exhaled, relief flooding her. The thought of denting a car that probably cost more than her college tuition had haunted her the whole drive.

Rupert didn’t rush to get out. He checked his watch and said, “Congrats, Sylvia. That thirty-minute drive only took you one hour and three minutes.”

Sylvia shot back, “Uncle Rupert, at least I got you here safe and sound. I should—”

Rupert suddenly doubled over, coughing into his fist so hard she thought he might throw up.

Didn’t Chris say concussions could cause dizziness and nausea?

Sylvia bit back her retort, got out, and hurried around to the passenger side, opening the door to help him.

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