Page 110 of Heartbeats & Highways

“Really.”

“Okay.” She bit her lip. “I have a car. I can drive us. It smells like worm jerky, but it gets me from point A to B.”

“Why does it smell?”

“Uh, well, it belonged to this guy who was cheating on his girlfriend. She found out and she put a thing of fishing worms in his trunk, but like way up there where he couldn’t find them under the carpet. It was summer and it was in the garage for a while and . . . yeah it was bad.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I got the car for astealof a deal. The smell is almost completely gone.”

“Really?”

She shrugged. “Well, maybe breathe through your mouth. And we’ll bring a bag in case you need to puke.”

“Why don’t we just take my car?” I asked. “I have my permit, and you can be my adult in the passenger side.”

“You don’t have a license?”

I sighed. “No. I plan on getting it while Savage is away. I want to accomplish something while he’s gone.”

“Noble.”

Unfortunately, I discovered my car had a dead battery when it failed to start.

“It’sbrand new,” I groaned in frustration. “That’s annoying.”

“Worm-jerky mobile it is,” Cozy said, twirling her key ring.

“In that case, you’re driving.”

We got into her car. The smell wasn’t that bad—not until she turned on the heat.

I hastily put a hand over my mouth to keep the bile in my stomach.

Cozy looked at me. “You’re being dramatic.”

“You liedbig timeabout the worm jerky smell.”

“You must have a sensitive nose. I can hardly smell it.”

“Must be the pregnancy thing,” I muttered. “Adding heat just made it worse. And now it’s on my clothes and on my skin. I’m going to need three showers just to get the stench out.”

“How about,thanks, Cozy,for driving us?”

“Thanks, Cozy, for driving us. I’m sorry if I—no, pull overright now.”

We’d barely rolled to a stop before I had the door open, and I was throwing up.

I hastily wiped my mouth and closed the door. “Okay, carry on.”

“Such theatrics,” Cozy teased.

“Remember when we weren’t on a first-name basis or even friends? That was fun, right?” I quipped in return.

“No, but seriously. You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m good.” I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes.

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