Where the Road Takes Me
Page 19
His loud sigh cut through the silence. My head jerked up. Slowly, he stood up and walked over to me. I didn’t know what it was about him that was intimidating. I was short for a baller but tall among average people. He stood over me and glared down. “Who are you to her?” His words weren’t laced with anger or confusion—it was just a question. I noticed he still looked as tired as the first time I’d seen him.
I didn’t respond.
He sighed again and took the seat next to mine. “Are you seeing her? I mean, are you her boyfriend?”
“No.”
“You want to be?”
I stared straight ahead. “I have a girlfriend.” Though Hannah wasn’t really relevant, I didn’t know what else to say.
“Really? Could’ve fooled me. Where was she last night?”
I shrugged.
“I don’t really think it’s appropriate—”
I turned to face him, cutting him off. “Are you okay with her and The Road?”
His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“I dunno,” I spat out. I didn’t need him telling me what was appropriate and what wasn’t. “Just kind of makes you look like an asshole if you’re letting her get in her piece-of-shit car on an endless fucking road trip. You can tell me what’s appropriate all you like, but you know her better than I do. I’m sure you might even care about her more than I do. Just seems like a dick move, is all.”
He laughed. It was loud enough that the cop at the front desk stopped what he was doing and looked up at us. Once Clayton had settled down, he leaned back in his seat and drawled, “I like you, kid.”
I fucking hated being called kid.
“But here’s the thing you may not know about Chloe . . . yet. She does what she wants. She lives her life the way she wants, and nothing and no one can stop her.” He paused for a beat. “You guys go to the same school, right?”
I nodded, my eyes fixed on the floor.
“When did you start noticing her?”
My body went rigid, and my breath caught.
He must’ve sensed it, because he laughed again. “I thought so.”
“Thought what?”
“Chloe—she likes to remain invisible. The fact that she’s hanging out with you—or whatever it is you guys are doing—it means something. But just don’t fall in love with her.”
My eyes snapped to his. “Whoa. Who said anything about love?”
His hands went up in surrender. “All I’m saying is that you’re gonna get hurt. She’s not gonna be around, and she’s not gonna let you in. You might as well give up now.”
Maybe his words should’ve surprised me, but they didn’t. I’d worked out enough about Chloe to know what he meant. Just as I opened my mouth to ask why she was like that, the cop at the desk interrupted me. “I’ll tell you what, Hunter.” He pointed a pen at me and smirked. “You give me the exclusive of where you plan on playing college ball, and I’ll let your little girlfriend go.”
I dropped my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was pissed and so fucking tired. I wanted her out of there. I wanted to thank her. And I wanted my goddamn bed. “Are you charging her or just keeping her for shits and giggles?”
And, right on cue, the door behind the desk opened and she stepped out. Her eyes widened when she saw the two of us waiting for her. We stood at the same time, but her eyes fixed on me. “What are you doing here?” She sounded pissed.
“Waiting for you,” I answered with equal attitude.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I just wasn’t expecting you.” She turned her attention to Clayton. “Or you.”
He shrugged. “What am I gonna do? Let my little sis sit in the slammer?”
Her face lit up with her smile. “I wasn’t in the slammer, you asshole.”
“Close enough.” He yanked on her arm and pulled her in for a hug. “Don’t do this shit again,” he said into her ear.
She nodded as they pulled apart.
“What are you doing now?” he asked her.
“Get my car, go home, and crash.”
“You won’t be able to sleep. The kids will be up soon.”
She shrugged.
“I’d offer you stay at mine, but Lisa’s home this weekend. That could be awkward.”
I cleared my throat.
They both turned to me.
“Um, I know you’re tired . . . and there’s no one home at my house. We have lots of space . . . You can always crash there for a few hours. It’s the least I could do.”
Chloe
“Are you sure your parents aren’t going to care?” I asked as he opened his front door.
“They won’t know. Mom lives in the guesthouse, and Dad’s not home.” He waited for me to step inside.
I stopped in the middle of the foyer. My gaze scanned the expansive space. From the outside, I knew it was large, but I wasn’t prepared for how vast it would be on the inside. “Whoa, this is, um . . . big.” But it looked unlived in. Kind of like a hospital. The only personal touches I could see were military pictures of a man—I assumed, his dad—and some war memorabilia on the mantel in the living room. There was absolutely nothing at all that said a family lived there. No family photos hung on the walls, and there were none of Blake anywhere. No proud trophies on display. Nothing.
“I guess,” he said, taking my hand and leading me upstairs to his bedroom. “I’d describe it as empty.”
I stopped in the middle of his room and looked around. “This is, um . . .”
“Big?” he finished for me.
“No.” I dropped my bag and turned to him. “I was going to say empty.”
He glanced around the room. “I guess.”
“But this is your home, right?” I kicked off my shoes and slowly made my way to the side of his bed.
“Yeah, of course it’s my home. Why?”
I pulled back the covers and sat down. “I mean your permanent home. You’ve lived here for years, right? So why don’t you have anything personal in here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just expected it to be different. You’re good at basketball, right? Where are all your team pictures? All your trophies? Your jerseys?” I shrugged. “Aren’t you proud of your accomplishments? Or your parents—they aren’t proud of you? Mary—she even keeps the kids’ participation ribbons. I just thought—”
I didn’t respond.
He sighed again and took the seat next to mine. “Are you seeing her? I mean, are you her boyfriend?”
“No.”
“You want to be?”
I stared straight ahead. “I have a girlfriend.” Though Hannah wasn’t really relevant, I didn’t know what else to say.
“Really? Could’ve fooled me. Where was she last night?”
I shrugged.
“I don’t really think it’s appropriate—”
I turned to face him, cutting him off. “Are you okay with her and The Road?”
His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“I dunno,” I spat out. I didn’t need him telling me what was appropriate and what wasn’t. “Just kind of makes you look like an asshole if you’re letting her get in her piece-of-shit car on an endless fucking road trip. You can tell me what’s appropriate all you like, but you know her better than I do. I’m sure you might even care about her more than I do. Just seems like a dick move, is all.”
He laughed. It was loud enough that the cop at the front desk stopped what he was doing and looked up at us. Once Clayton had settled down, he leaned back in his seat and drawled, “I like you, kid.”
I fucking hated being called kid.
“But here’s the thing you may not know about Chloe . . . yet. She does what she wants. She lives her life the way she wants, and nothing and no one can stop her.” He paused for a beat. “You guys go to the same school, right?”
I nodded, my eyes fixed on the floor.
“When did you start noticing her?”
My body went rigid, and my breath caught.
He must’ve sensed it, because he laughed again. “I thought so.”
“Thought what?”
“Chloe—she likes to remain invisible. The fact that she’s hanging out with you—or whatever it is you guys are doing—it means something. But just don’t fall in love with her.”
My eyes snapped to his. “Whoa. Who said anything about love?”
His hands went up in surrender. “All I’m saying is that you’re gonna get hurt. She’s not gonna be around, and she’s not gonna let you in. You might as well give up now.”
Maybe his words should’ve surprised me, but they didn’t. I’d worked out enough about Chloe to know what he meant. Just as I opened my mouth to ask why she was like that, the cop at the desk interrupted me. “I’ll tell you what, Hunter.” He pointed a pen at me and smirked. “You give me the exclusive of where you plan on playing college ball, and I’ll let your little girlfriend go.”
I dropped my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was pissed and so fucking tired. I wanted her out of there. I wanted to thank her. And I wanted my goddamn bed. “Are you charging her or just keeping her for shits and giggles?”
And, right on cue, the door behind the desk opened and she stepped out. Her eyes widened when she saw the two of us waiting for her. We stood at the same time, but her eyes fixed on me. “What are you doing here?” She sounded pissed.
“Waiting for you,” I answered with equal attitude.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I just wasn’t expecting you.” She turned her attention to Clayton. “Or you.”
He shrugged. “What am I gonna do? Let my little sis sit in the slammer?”
Her face lit up with her smile. “I wasn’t in the slammer, you asshole.”
“Close enough.” He yanked on her arm and pulled her in for a hug. “Don’t do this shit again,” he said into her ear.
She nodded as they pulled apart.
“What are you doing now?” he asked her.
“Get my car, go home, and crash.”
“You won’t be able to sleep. The kids will be up soon.”
She shrugged.
“I’d offer you stay at mine, but Lisa’s home this weekend. That could be awkward.”
I cleared my throat.
They both turned to me.
“Um, I know you’re tired . . . and there’s no one home at my house. We have lots of space . . . You can always crash there for a few hours. It’s the least I could do.”
Chloe
“Are you sure your parents aren’t going to care?” I asked as he opened his front door.
“They won’t know. Mom lives in the guesthouse, and Dad’s not home.” He waited for me to step inside.
I stopped in the middle of the foyer. My gaze scanned the expansive space. From the outside, I knew it was large, but I wasn’t prepared for how vast it would be on the inside. “Whoa, this is, um . . . big.” But it looked unlived in. Kind of like a hospital. The only personal touches I could see were military pictures of a man—I assumed, his dad—and some war memorabilia on the mantel in the living room. There was absolutely nothing at all that said a family lived there. No family photos hung on the walls, and there were none of Blake anywhere. No proud trophies on display. Nothing.
“I guess,” he said, taking my hand and leading me upstairs to his bedroom. “I’d describe it as empty.”
I stopped in the middle of his room and looked around. “This is, um . . .”
“Big?” he finished for me.
“No.” I dropped my bag and turned to him. “I was going to say empty.”
He glanced around the room. “I guess.”
“But this is your home, right?” I kicked off my shoes and slowly made my way to the side of his bed.
“Yeah, of course it’s my home. Why?”
I pulled back the covers and sat down. “I mean your permanent home. You’ve lived here for years, right? So why don’t you have anything personal in here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just expected it to be different. You’re good at basketball, right? Where are all your team pictures? All your trophies? Your jerseys?” I shrugged. “Aren’t you proud of your accomplishments? Or your parents—they aren’t proud of you? Mary—she even keeps the kids’ participation ribbons. I just thought—”
