Garrett cleared his throat again and it seemed he had to take a moment to compose himself before saying more. “It was a drunk driver. They died on impact,” he said and shot a look in my direction. “That’s why I will never drive drunk or high. Ever!” he proclaimed emphatically, his eyes snapping.
Who would have thought Garrett Bellows had layers. That he was more than the stoned out guitarist with no thought to doing something more. But sitting in my darkened car, hearing him speak about losing his parents. Seeing the intensity of his misery, I forgot completely that here was a guy I had sworn I had nothing in common with. That he and I were opposites in every possible way.
But we weren’t so different, Garrett and I. Because Garrett was a whole mess of layers and he had a depth that left me breathless.
“And I’m sorry about your dad,” he finished and all of my ridiculous romanticism about the man who sat beside me shooting down the darkened highway, popped like a soap bubble. The reality of why I was here, with him, in this car, came crashing down on my shoulders like a hundred ton weight.
“Thanks,” I whispered so softly it was if all of my bones had dissolved.
My dad might die. Hell, he might be dead already, while I made the long, arduous trek to his bedside. What would I do if I never got to talk to him again? Never got to see his smile or hear him tell me teasingly to “buck up, Riley Boo?”
“How are things going at the newspaper?” Garrett asked me a little too loudly and I was wrenched from my depressing thoughts.
I blinked a few times and stared at him. “Huh?” I asked stupidly.
Garrett gripped the steering wheel so tightly I could see his knuckles turning white. His smile was forced but I appreciated the effort. “The newspaper. I’m not sure what you’re doing there, just wanted to know how it’s going,” he said.
“It’s good. Going good, I mean. I’m there for an internship. You know, to get my own byline so I can become the next Barbara Walters or something,” I answered dryly.
“Ah, so you want to write for a newspaper. That sounds cool. I can see that. Good career choice,” he remarked in a tone that was almost teasing.
“Oh, and why is that?” I asked, surprised at the subtle flirtation in my voice.
“Probably because you’re the type of chick who takes the world by its balls and refuses to let go. Not saying it like it’s a bad thing. It just makes me want to wear a cup when I’m around you,” he stated and I had to laugh.
Yes, Garrett Bellows had made me laugh. Just when I thought my world was bottoming out, here he was, taking me toward an unknown future and he was making me freaking laugh. There was something pretty wonderful about that.
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or completely insulted,” I told him wryly.
Garrett’s smile this time wasn’t forced or strained. It didn’t hold any twinge of sadness or regret. This smile was one hundred percent earthshattering. Shit, it’s a good thing I hadn’t seen it before or I would have locked him away and thrown away the key. Guys with smiles like that were lethal.
“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” he said as his smile faded and he was once again focusing on the road. Our moment of levity drifting away into the darkness rushing past us.
“Maybe you should try to sleep. We’ve got another few hours and you’ll need your rest,” Garrett suggested. My eyes felt gritty with exhaustion and I should probably take him up on his suggestion but my mind was in chaos and I knew I would never be able to shut it off.
“Why don’t you tell me about some of the places you’ll be going on your tour. I think I’d rather hear about that,” I said. Garrett looked surprised but then nodded.