Something in the Way (Something in the Way #1)(67)

“Couples months I guess.”

“Ah. Is it serious?”

I glanced back at the campfire. No, it wasn’t, but it could get serious. If things kept up this way, Tiffany letting down her guard, Lake being off limits, it might. “Nah. Not yet.”

“Good, good.” Gary rocked on his heels. “You’re too young to settle down, but I know how these girls can get. Don’t let her push you in that direction if you aren’t ready.”

I wasn’t sure what to say about it. Much as I liked Gary, I wasn’t in the habit of talking about my personal shit with anyone.

He slapped me on the back. “See you in a few.”

I climbed into the beat-up truck. The thing didn’t look like it’d make it down the block, much less to town, but I figured Vern knew better than me. It growled to life, and I gave it a few minutes to warm up. Luckily, the heater worked. Walking away from the campfire had left me with a chill. I reversed out of the lot and headed for the trail toward the highway. I squinted through the pitch dark, the headlights showing only what was right in front of me.

At the mouth of the unpaved road, a movement caught my eye. Lake stepped out into the path, looking not even a little worried I might hit her. I slammed on the brakes. “Jesus Christ.”

In denim short-shorts that looked a size too big and a t-shirt a size too small, she came around to the passenger’s side and opened the door.

“What’re you doing?” I asked.

“Looking for you. I waited at the pool, hoping you’d come since it’s our last night.”

I checked over my shoulder to make sure nobody was around. “Get in.”

She hauled herself into the seat and pulled on the door. Using all her weight only moved it a few inches. The truck was hidden by trees, but we weren’t even off the campsite yet. I leaned over to grab the handle, and the door creaked and groaned, closing heavily.

Her face was in mine. I smelled sweetness, watermelon or something, and chlorine. “You didn’t get in the pool, did you?”

“Just my feet.”

She kicked off her flip-flops. The fine, gold hair on her upper thigh shimmered under the dome light. I didn’t know where to start. The skimpy outfit? Sneaking around in the dark? Swimming without supervision? “You can’t be here, Lake.”

“I know. But it’s our last night.”

We were on display. I started to drive to get the light to turn off. “It’s everyone’s last night.”

I went slowly down the unpaved trail, but we jostled in our seats anyway. She didn’t even bother looking out the windshield. “Where are you going?” she asked.

Hunched over the wheel, I glanced between her and the road. The seat was one long bench of three seats, Caribbean-turquoise vinyl. She pulled one bare foot up on it and faced me, like I was about to say something important. “On an errand.”

“So you’re coming right back?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what’s the big deal if I come?”

It was after dark, she was a minor, and I was responsible for her. All that said, she’d never be safer than when she was with me. I was sure of it. I adjusted the rearview mirror. “You promise to go straight to your cabin when we get back?”

“Yes.”

“So what’re you doing, swimming alone at night?” I made sure my tone conveyed my disapproval.

“I told you. Waiting for you. And I only put my feet in.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s dangerous. Water tricks you. It looks calm and inviting, but it can kill you. Fast.”

She didn’t respond. If I’d scared her, good. Nothing bad ever came of respecting the elements.

The final few yards of the road were bad enough to knock a pack of cigarettes out of Vern’s visor. Lake picked them up. “How come you never smoke in front of me?”

“They’re not mine.” I pulled onto a main road, and the ride got about as smooth as it was going to get in this soon-to-be junkyard scrap metal. I relaxed back into my seat. “We talked about this. Secondhand smoke’s bad for you.”

“And not for you?”

Lake shouldn’t be in the truck. I shouldn’t’ve been noticing or still thinking about those soft-looking hairs on her leg. I should’ve sent her back. I didn’t even want alcohol but somehow I’d ended up in a situation. I would’ve killed for a cigarette right then. “Gimme those.”

She handed over the pack, and I stuffed it between the seats. “I thought about what you said the other night. I’ll quit, it’s just going to take some time.”

“I can help,” she said.

“How?”

“I don’t know. There must be some way.”

“It’s not like AA where you get a sponsor.”

I took the on-ramp to the highway. It was dead, not many cars around, just lots of black pavement flanked by shadowed trees. The sliver of a moon waxed from new to full.

“I could check in on you.” Her voice barely carried over the grumble of the engine. “Or you could call me when you get the urge.”

Seemed about right, replacing one impulse with another. Lake instead of nicotine. Only, I didn’t think that was how she meant it. I glanced over in the dark. “What’s going on?”