“No!”
Tobias opens the door to an old Ford Bronco and drops her inside.
I run over and grab her phone. “You’ll be fine, T. No one will know. Just sleep it off until I can get there.”
I look at Tobias as T starts to cry. “I’m fucking trusting you with part of my family.”
“Get Savvy out of here.”
“Truth, I’ll see you soon.” I turn then head to where Savvy is stumbling and call over my shoulder to Truth, “Love you! You’re fine.”
I sprint to Savvy and scoop her up, not slowing down at all. As we hit the edge of the woods, I see lights behind me. “Put your head into my neck to shield your eyes and don’t fucking move.”
“Where’s Truth?”
“Tobias got her out,” I say as I blindingly push past branches.
She makes some sort of bird noise, and I’m about to ask her if she has a mental health diagnosis when someone else makes a similar one.
“Follow that noise,” she whispers.
As soon as we get to them, she slides down, and then we see flashlights and hear the cops using a bull horn or some shit. “Come out with your hands up.”
“Fuck,” Roach whispers.
Everyone here is fucked up. I’ve had a couple of drinks and am pretty sure they’ve worn off.
“Anyone else sober?” I whisper.
“Ant, Flea, and—”
“Tick?” Savvy asks. Serious as shit, too.
“No, but we should have thought of that,” someone says.
“Always time to change it,” one of them suggests.
“Okay, shut up. Who’s sober and who’s legal?”
“We’re sober and legal.”
I want to ask them why the fuck they’re here then.
“I’m gonna cut you, Roach,” Savvy hisses.
“You’re going to shut the hell up,” I snap, because I’ve had enough shit for one night.
“Rude,” she whispers.
“Just my vehicle, Savvy’s, and the three sober dudes with insect names rode together?” I ask.
“Sounds right,” someone says.
“Chloe, call Heather as soon as the four of us walk out. Have her cover for Savvy. Tell her that the van broke down, and that’s why it’s here. You guys stay put until the cops are here, then either have Heather get someone to give you a ride or wait a couple hours till one of you sobers up then get your asses back to the dorms.”
“I’m sober,” Chloe says.
“Then we can just get ticketed and—”
“You can’t do shit,” I cut Savvy off. “Easton was adamant. So, could you possibly do what I said and fucking trust me?”
“Possibly.”
“Not fucking good enough, Savvy.”
The lights get closer, and the cops call out again.
“Fine,” she hisses.
“Good,” I hiss back.
* * *
I look around the cell and try to decide whether to just stand here or take the chance of catching some shit and try to get some sleep.
I decide to stand.
“You change your mind about calling your folks or your uncle?” one of the cops asks a-fucking-gain.
“No need to freak my folks out when they’re away, and no need to wake anyone up because I decided to have a drink.”
“Also, no need to sit here when you have someone who can get you out of here.”
“Actually”—I laugh—“looks like I’m standing.”
Never knew I could sleep while standing, but I did, off and on, all fucking night.
* * *
Uncle Cyrus got a call at seven this morning and was down here, panicking at 7:05. I assured him that Truth was fine and gave him the address. He was so pissed that he didn’t talk to me, but he did send a text, letting me know she was fine.
I feel like shit for making him worry, but just as shitty for what Truth’s going through.
I called my parents and explained the situation. Mom was pissed that I didn’t call. Dad was pissed that the cops didn’t just bring me home. Then they said they would be home in as little as five hours. I told them not to. I actually insisted they get Divina under control or kill the contract, because I wasn’t going to continue handling her when she obviously either didn’t trust my parents or wanted my attention. I’m a hundred percent sure it is the latter, but I’m still tripping on Savvy.
I showered and planned to spend the entire weekend in bed. And I was just about to sleep when I got a message alert.
7:49 a.m. - I went to get coffee and came back. I think you’re home. If you are, I’m in your driveway and would like to offer you a ride to get your Jeep, and an apology.
7:50 a.m. - Go home and get some sleep. I’ll catch a ride later from someone.
The doorbell rings within seconds, and I hit the security app on the phone to see who it is, even though I already know.
7:51 a.m. - Please let me at least say I’m sorry.
7:51 a.m. - You did. We’re good. And me, too. I’m gonna try to catch some ZZZZZs. Chat later.
The doorbell rings again, and I look at the security camera app. She looks like the walking dead.
Annoyed as fuck because I want to make sure she’s okay, but I know I’m too tired, confused, and pissed off to deal with her properly, I still punch in the code to unlock the door as I get up.
Truth is that the Jeep got towed, and I don’t want her to feel like shit, but I don’t feel like making this okay for her either. Yet, here I am, walking down the stairs to let her get it off her chest.
I open the door, and her shoulders lift as if she hasn’t taken a breath in a solid five minutes, and when she exhales, her whole body shakes. Then, her voice doesn’t just crack, it shatters when she says, “Sorry.”
I lean against the door frame and nod. “Shit happens, Savvy.” I have to grip the fucking doorjamb to stop myself from dragging her inside.
She nods and thrusts a cup of coffee at me, her hands shaking so badly that she drops it. Then
