Page 94 of Feuds and Interludes
“You can stay if you want,” I said. “I can Lyft home from there.”
I couldn’t make eye-contact with Boone, and thankfully our Lyft pulled up because there was no way we could continue this conversation. I had Pops sit in front and that put me in back next to Boone with Vera Jean on the far side. Boone’s phone was blowing up the whole ride back. His brow was furrowed as he punched responses in with his thumbs with a huff. I wanted to ask what it was all about, but it was none of my business. Not anymore.
We were quiet for the ride up to Laurel Canyon. When we arrived, Boone climbed out my side, gave me a funny look, and then rushed around to help Vera Jean while I tried to help Pops up the driveway. He kept swatting my hands away, proving that he really was fine, and so I followed the group with my chest so tight it was ready to burst.
Once inside the gorgeous mansion, Pops turned to me and told me they were fine, that he was okay, and we hugged.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said. “But if anything happens, you better call me.”
“I know the drill, son. Thank you, I’m sorry to take you away from your festival.”
Boone was speaking quietly to his Gran, and then he kissed her on the cheek. He walked up to me with an expectant look on his face.
“My car should be charged or we can Lyft.”
“It’s fine, I’ll just Lyft. You’ve probably got things to do here.”
Boone frowned at me, turned and gave his Gran one last smile, and then he took my hand and yanked me down the stairs to what I assumed was his room.
Or rooms, I should say. I’d sneered at the fact he lived with his grandmother once, that was true, but the bottom level of the house was no basement scenario.
A wall of windows offered a gorgeous view of the Los Angeles basin. There was twice as much music equipment as I had at my place strewn about. There was a room off to the side with a treadmill and gym equipment, a kitchenette, and off to the other side, there was a hall that I assumed led to his bedroom. It was a cavernous space. You couldn’t tell from the front of the house how much square footage the house actually took up.
“Look,” Boone said, dropping his bag on the floor and parking his hands on his hips. “I know we’re both tired, you had to deal with the double whammy of your grandfather in the hospital and your mother, but did you just try to dismiss me?”
I used to think he was a prick when he’d talk all prissy like this. I mistook his assertiveness for attitude. Right now, he was about to hand me my ass, and I wasn’t up to the challenge.
“Boone, I’m tired. You have things to take care of, so I’m going to get out of your hair.”
He bounced his knee and scowled at me. “Since when have I ever wanted you out of my hair? Shane Butler, don’t you dare push me away right now.”
Before I’d kissed him, he’d irritated me with his drama. After I’d kissed him, I thought it was cute. It was endearing. He was everything I’d ever wanted. Now? I knew I was being an asshole and I just didn’t have the spoons to take care with my words. I was a coward who couldn’t take the chance that Boone would figure out that I was full of shit. I needed to cut ties and go.
“Don’t think I don’t know your phone has been blowing up all day. You have Stellar to think about now.”
“But you said?—”
“Let’s not complicate things.”
He snapped his feet together, his spine stiffened, and his gorgeous blue eyes went round like deep pools of despair.
“I don’t… What did I do, Shane? I thought?—”
“I’m just trying to divest you of dead weight. Get some rest. We’ll talk later.”
And for my next trick, I attempted to get the fuck out of there and ended up walking into a bathroom.
“Fuck,” I said, and then found the stairs and took them two at a time as I heard something crash down below.
Thankfully no one was upstairs when I got to the foyer, and I was able to duck out the front door without any more theatrics. I took off at a jog with my bag slung over my shoulder, and then broke into a run. I was going downhill, which was a really fucking stupid thing to do, but it seemed that stupid was all I was capable of doing at the moment. I ran all the way down to Sunset Boulevard and puked when I got there.
And then I remembered telling Boone that running ’til I puked wasn’t good for me.
A horn blared next to me, and I tripped over my feet and fell on my ass, narrowly avoiding the puddle I’d made.
“Get in the fucking car.” Boone was there in Vera Jean’s Cadillac, looking more pissed than I’d ever seen him.
“Boone—”
