“I’ll drive you,” Garrett said suddenly and that made me stop shaking and look at him as though he had lost his mind.
“I have a car, I’ve had my license for a few years now, you know,” I said, appreciating the opportunity to lob a bit of my normal snark. It made me feel normal, capable.
Garrett’s mouth raised into a small smile. “Yes, I’m aware, but you’re in no condition to drive right now. Not after getting that kind of news,” he said firmly, as though he dared me to argue with him.
Well argue with him I would.
“You can’t do that. That’s just ridiculous. You’re in the middle of a gig. You and me…well, we’re not even friends. I can’t expect you to drive me to Maryland in the middle of the night,” I said stupidly, really not grasping why he would offer such a thing. It made absolutely no sense at all. And my brain was so bogged down with a million other worries that this new complication in the ever-evolving Garrett and Riley saga was the last thing I had the patience for.
Garrett rolled his eyes. Yes, he actually rolled his eyes at me. “Stop it, Riley. We may not be ‘friends’ but that doesn’t mean I can stand here and watch you drive off knowing what you have to face when you get there. Knowing how you’ll be going over every awful scenario in your head for the entire drive. Trying to prepare yourself for the worst but terrified to expect the best,” his voice was strained and his eyes became glassy. He was speaking from experience. And my heart, already breaking, broke a little bit more at the pain on his face.
“So let me do this for you. Please,” he said gently. And I was too tired to put up any further resistance. I only nodded and went to drop my keys in his waiting palm. Then I hesitated.
“You haven’t been drinking or smoking have you? Because I promised my mom I would get there in one piece,” I said seriously, narrowing my eyes.
Garrett wrapped his fingers around my hand that held the keys. His gaze was unwavering as he answered me. “I would never risk your life like that. I would rather die then get behind the wheel under the influence. Trust me when I say you have nothing to worry about where that is concerned.” His words were flinty hard and there was more to his staunch testament than I knew. But I couldn’t think about it.
Right now I needed to get to Maryland.
“And the gig?” I asked, wanting to give him one last chance to bow out of from knight in shining armor duty.
Garrett peeled my fingers apart and took my keys, nudging me through the kitchen doors so I could get my purse and jacket.
“Fuck the gig. Let’s get you to your dad,” he said resolutely. And if I could have, I would have smiled.
The first hour into the drive passed with minimal conversation. It was already almost one in the morning. I was tired. I was heartsick. And I was almost delusional with worry. Garrett didn’t attempt to pull me into meaningless chatter and for that I was grateful. I didn’t have it in me to talk about the fucking weather or what I thought of the Greenhouse Effect.
I had gone to the apartment, packed up the bare essentials, sent a text to Maysie and then climbed into my car, with Garrett behind the wheel. It was a testament to how out of whack I was that I permitted anyone, besides myself and Maysie to drive my beloved Volvo. It was almost fifteen years old; the rust colored paint chipped and was slowly disappearing. I only had a tape deck and a radio that picked up just one or two stations. But I had bought the clunker with my own money. It was completely and totally mine and because of that I was over the top possessive about it.
But Garrett treated it as smoothly as though he were driving a Mercedes and for that he gained about a thousand cool points.