I focus on the road for the next eight hours. We’ll be late, but I know I look like someone who actually has food poisoning. It’s a hell of a lot more believable than the truth.
Gavin didn’t get as much sleep as I would’ve liked. His phone rang half a dozen times. Two calls were from people who he had to promise he’d get their money to within twenty-four hours. I know from the tidbits I could hear that he’s already promised the cash from a month’s worth of gigs to cover money he borrowed to get his mom out of jail.
Before I can open my mouth to ask once again why in the world he does this for her, his phone rings again and he tells the caller her car will be parked at our hotel. He laughs a little and says, “No, nothing like that. It’s . . . a lot more important than that.” His eyes drift over to me, and my face heats for some reason. Is he talking about me?
After we stop for gas at the halfway mark, he takes over the driving despite my protests. We’ve been driving only a few hours when his phone rings again.
“Son of a bitch,” he mumbles before taking this one. “Hey, Dallas.”
My stomach tenses. I’ve been texting my brother, but apparently that wasn’t enough.
“Yeah, man, she’s a trouper. We’ll be at sound check.” His hand tightens on the wheel and I notice that it’s sprinkling outside.
“You did? Shit. I didn’t hear you knock. She was probably asleep. I ran to a gas station to grab her some Gatorade. They didn’t have any in the vending machines.”
He’s lying. And doing it alarmingly well. Panic wells inside of me, rising to my throat like bile as I realize what my brother is saying. Dallas came to my room. We didn’t answer because we weren’t there.
“Yeah, man, I remember,” he says, barely loud enough for me to hear. “Got it. Look, I promise I’ll get her there in time. I’m not at the hotel right now. I have to meet up with a friend first but we’ll be at sound check on time come hell or high water.”
High water is an honest possibility at this point. The rain that ushered us out of Austin is now welcoming us back.
He says a few more things to my brother but I can barely hear them over the sound of the clouds pouring a year’s worth of tears upon us. Gavin drops his phone into the console and turns to me.
“You won’t have time to shower, but from the looks of the oncoming downpour, it won’t matter anyway.”
“Did he believe you?” I bite my thumbnail and watch the flashing red warnings of the brake lights in front of us. We slow practically to a stop. At this rate he lied about more than Gatorade. We’re not going to make sound check at all if traffic doesn’t move.
“Guess we’ll find out tonight. I’ll deal with him if not. Don’t worry about it.” He sighs and frowns at the cars in front of us.
“I bet you twenty bucks you can get us there in time.” My mind flickers to Afton. “We could always just drive right up to the stage.”
Gavin lets out a low ripple of laughter. “Too bad neither of us has twenty bucks.”
I laugh because life sure has a sick sense of humor sometimes. We literally have nothing to our name, aside from a change of clothes. And yet . . . in this moment, alone with him, breathing in his sharp, clean scent in a borrowed car under a turbulent sky, I feel richer than I ever have.
“Gavin?”
“Yeah?” He cranes his neck in an attempt to see around the traffic.
My subconscious has been scolding me for the majority of this drive.
Let him go. Tell him he doesn’t have to stay with you tonight. He has enough to deal with. It’s on the tip of my tongue.
“Nothing. Never mind.” I shake my head, not ready to talk about this right now.
“You hungry? I was kidding about not having twenty bucks. I didn’t tell my mom because I learned a long time ago that you don’t give addicts money, ever, but I have some cash left from what I put aside for gas.”
I shrug, thankful that he can’t read my mind. “I could eat. If we have time.”