Where One Goes(41)

After I finish cleaning, I return to my room and prepare to shower. Just as I’ve undressed, a knock sounds at my door. Wrapping a towel around myself and opening the door, I find George, swollen eye and smile on his face. He’s holding a brown paper bag with grease stains.

His one good eye goes wide at the sight of me in my towel. “Hi,” he finally manages after swallowing hard.

“Hello,” I say, as heat crawls up my neck and blankets my face. Pulling my towel a little tighter around me, I clear my throat.

“Do you always answer the door without asking who it is in nothing but a towel?” he scolds me.


“Nice to see you, too, George,” I grumble. “What can I do for you?”

“I brought lunch for milady,” George finally manages. “Thought I owed my new friend a thank you.”

My heart feels heavy in my chest. I would’ve never expected such a sweet gesture from him. “That’s awesome. I’m starving.” I open the door to let him in, but he steps back. “I’ll wait out here while you get dressed. Maybe we could make it a picnic. I know an awesome place.”

“Okay. I’ll be just a few minutes,” I tell him as I close the door. Slipping on my last pair of clean underwear, I quickly dress in dirty jeans and a T-shirt before grabbing my jacket off the chair near the door. Taking in his jeans and tight, gray sweater, I realize I haven’t bathed today. I don’t bother checking myself in the mirror. I know I look like hell. “I haven’t taken a shower today so I apologize if I’m stinky.”

“I was wondering what that foul odor was,” he teases as I shut the door and we head toward his Bronco. It’s jacked up, worn, and painted bright red.

“You’re hilarious,” I retort. “Nice ride. What does this thing get, like negative five miles per gallon?”

He laughs and my tummy clenches. What an amazing laugh he has. His laugh is like the pop of a fired gun; it’s surprising and leaves me stunned and a little wired. He opens the passenger side door and helps me climb in, his hands grasping my hips gently and lifting me. I can’t ignore the zing that travels through me when he touches me. I wish I could control the reaction my body has whenever he touches me, but I can’t. I can only hope it’s not obvious to him. “It was me and Ike’s first car. Took our joint life savings, but we were sixteen with the baddest ride in school.”

Grinning at the thought, I glance around for Ike, but he’s still nowhere to be seen. I frown slightly at that realization. I hate not feeling him near. George drives us up the mountain and pulls into a wooded area about ten minutes away. The entire time he points out houses and tells me who lives there and how he knows them. Apparently, he knows every freaking person in this town because we don’t pass one house or farm where he doesn’t identify the family living there. The roads are steep, and if I look to my right, it’s almost a direct drop down the mountain. One bad turn or swerve and we crash to our deaths. As his Bronco lurches over the rough terrain, I question, “You bringing me out here to kill me?”

“I think I thought about it once last night when I realized you dumped out everything,” he answers with a half-quirked smile.

“How are you feeling? Any withdrawals?”

“Not yet, but it will probably hit me harder tonight or tomorrow. But I have to work so maybe that’ll work as a distraction. Unless you’d like to come in tonight and distract me.” He winks. “I’m sure you could find a few ways to piss me off.”

“True,” I admit before sticking my tongue out at him. It’s not very hard for me to make George mad. “As tempting as that sounds, I have plans.”

“You do?” he questions, his brow furrowed.

“Dinner with the Mercers, actually,” I clarify as I dig through my bag and grab my Chap Stick.

As we climb out of his truck, I pray he’s right about being able to distract himself from the symptoms of his withdrawals, but I have a feeling it’s going to be worse than he thinks. Pulling a blanket from behind his seat, he lays it on the ground and we sit in the center of an opening in the woods. The leaves have started to change and a beautiful array of yellow, orange, and red kiss the leaves slightly. “Where are we?” I ask as we sit and George pulls out burgers wrapped in wax paper.

“This is my father’s land. We come camping here sometimes.”

“It’s beautiful,” I note as I tear open my burger. “Very peaceful. I love the color of the leaves.”

“Just wait until the next week or two. It’ll put Crayola to shame. Things will get really busy around here starting around the end of next week.”

Taking a huge bite of his burger, he looks up and chews, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Ike and I used to come here a lot.” I glance around for Ike, but he’s still nowhere to be seen. Where is he? “We used to bring girls here, too,” George says, with a slight smirk. “We were real classy guys.”

“Oh,” I feign insult. “And here I thought I was special,” I tease. “I’m just one of many.”

“It was in high school and where else is a teenage boy supposed to bring a girl for some privacy around here? It was either this or a barn. This was where we hid.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” I can’t help questioning. “Hiding me or hiding us together from the town?”