Boone stepped back from the couch, staring at his mom with a conflicted expression. “Because if I left, she’d have no one.” His forehead creased deeper. “And everyone should have at least one someone who gives a shit about them.”
I shouldered up beside him, staring at his mom with him for so long, I didn’t even notice the smell around us. It didn’t take long to get used to. Not with the years of experience I had.
I didn’t like Dolly Cavanaugh. I’d go so far as to say there were moments in life when I’d flat-out hated her, tonight bordering on that designation. From where I stood, she’d only done one thing right in life and that was managing to bring the kind of person Boone was into this world. That was all I could give her credit for though, because she’d done little else for him. Other than take him for granted and do everything in her power to keep him from becoming the good person he was today.
“And who’s the someone who gives a shit about you, Boone?” I asked, though it was a question I’d meant to keep to myself.
He sighed but cut it short. Turning around, he headed for the door like he suddenly couldn’t get out of this place soon enough. “Hell if I know.”
He waited for me at the door and sealed it closed behind us. He stayed close to me as we moved down the stairs and didn’t start the truck until I was in my seat and buckled up. We didn’t say anything else the entire drive back to my parents’ place.
I was as content with the silence as he was.
The house was dark and quiet when we pulled up, which made both of our shoulders relax. I’d missed plenty of calls and texts from Charlotte wanting to know what I was doing and where I was when I was supposed to be spending the day with “the girls,” and I knew I didn’t have the patience to explain anything to her in phrases that weren’t peppered with words I’d wake up tomorrow regretting.
Instead of parking beside the handful of guests’ cars around the side of the house, Boone pulled up the driveway to the front door, keeping the engine running as he lifted his chin at the front door. “I’m going to run back and get your dad’s car. I don’t want it to get lifted or graffitied overnight.”
I shook my head. “It’s late. You’ve had a long day. We can get it in the morning. My dad’s got five other cars he can drive if he needs to go anywhere.”
“But he’s only got one ’72 Chrysler.”
“Tomorrow.”
Boone shook his head, keeping his hands on the steering wheel. “It’s the right thing to do. I borrowed it today. I should return it today as well.”
I twisted in my seat to face him. “And since when have you and my dad been under some kind of ‘doing the right thing’ policy when it comes to each other?”
“Since I decided to grow up and start acting like a man instead of a boy.”
When I laughed, it seemed to echo in the cab. “How very evolved of you.”
As I opened my door and slid out, Boone cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t be long, but don’t worry about waiting up for me.” He cleared his throat again. “You know, if you were thinking about doing that . . . which I’m sure you probably weren’t . . . and yeah, shutting up now.” Rubbing the back of his head, he clamped his mouth closed in a dramatic fashion.
Right after I closed the door and was about to head up the porch steps, I stopped. I couldn’t take another step. Not until I did something. Turning around, I stuck my head through the open passenger window. “Hey, Boone?”
He was already watching me. “Yeah?”
“I’m someone who gives a shit about you.” I bit my lip, dropping my gaze. “You know, just in case you needed a verbal confirmation.”
If another phallic-shaped sucker or candy or Jell-O shooter got thrown my way, I was going to self-detonate. And I was taking out the rest of the sucker-licking bitches with me.
Avalee stumbled in my direction, throwing herself onto the pink leather couch beside me. She was the first person who’d been brave enough to take a seat next to the girl who’d been called so many variations of party pooper and prude, I wondered if these girls really had spent as much time in college hitting the books as they had banging the quarterback.
“Can you at least pretend you’re having a good time?” Avalee giggled, curling up to me by throwing an arm and leg around me. She was a fun drunk. A touchy-feely one, but a fun one nonetheless.
I circled my finger around my face, trying not to wince when the next song blared through the club. Apparently the DJ was under the impression the Top 40 list was the be-all end-all of music. “This is me pretending. See? Pretending to have fun face.” I circled my face again and cocked an eyebrow at my grinning-like-a-fool little sister.