Page 25 of Hide and Keep

I don’t want to ruin Crue’s life. I just don’t want him to have a hand in ruining mine.

My heart pounds inside my chest, the sound like a train scaling up my neck into my ears.

“Crue,” I vaguely hear myself say. “I’m—”

“Man, I hate when people make me a liar,” Ronny says, his gaze locked on the half-empty bottle. I didn’t drink any, just poured out enough to be believable. “I thought you gave up drinking senior year.”

Senior year? Crue was already drinking enough by then to have to give it up?

“Unless…is it hers?” Eyes relocating to me, Ronny pulls out a small notepad and flips it open to a blank page.

“Yes,” I say at the same time Crue gives a firm, “No.”

I grab his bicep, but he yanks his arm out of my grasp, twisting in his seat to face Ronny and telling him, “It’s mine. I relapsed. But not today. It was a while ago.”

He’s taking the blame? For me?

“But…you admit you were drinking and driving recently?”

“No.” Crue shakes his head. “Never.”

Ronny looks from Crue to me, then back, I swear his eyes are locked on Crue’s scar though.

“I didn’t think you would. Not after what happened to Yasmin.”

Nothing on Crue moves.

Who’s Yasmin and what happened to her?

“But…I didn’t think you’d ever pick up the bottle again either. I’m sorry to do this, I really am, but I need you to step out of the vehicle.”

“It’s all a misunderstanding,” Crue says while stepping out.

“You have an open container in the front seat.”

“But I didn’t touch it today.”

“Someone called you in, Crue. Speeding, swerving, generally erratic behavior.”

They go around to the front of Crue’s Bronco. Thanks to the open driver’s window, I can still hear them.

“Who?”

“It was anonymous.”

“Okay, well, when did it come in? I wasn’t driving my car earlier.”

“Who was?”

Crue looks directly at me and Ronny follows his gaze. Shaking his head, he mumbles something to Crue I can’t make out.

Then he calls out, “Miss Munreaux?” A hand beckons me forward. “Why don’t you join us out here?”

Crue steps in front of his old friend, his hands up between them.

“No, it was me. Just leave her out of it. She’s innocent.”

That’s twice now he could’ve thrown me under the bus but only threw himself under instead.

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