Page 95 of Feuds and Interludes
“Get in the fucking car, Shane, or I’m going to make such a scene?—”
“All right,” I said, trying to climb to my feet on rubbery legs. I tossed my bag into the back and then climbed into the passenger seat.
“Here,” he said, handing me a box of tissues before he pulled away from the curb, which pissed off several drivers, who all flipped us off as they drove by. “You’re bleeding on your hand and your knee and you’ve got puke on your chin.”
I took the tissue and did my best to clean up. Boone took off toward my place, driving like an elderly woman. He sat so close to the steering wheel, I didn’t know how he’d managed to fit his legs under the dash. His seat was up perfectly straight andhe hunched over, his gaze darting between his mirrors. He was even…
“You wear glasses?”
“Only for driving.”
The rest of the twenty-minute drive was quiet, the only sound coming from the blinker, which Boone used obsessively. With his glasses on, he looked younger than he was, and he was driving as if he were taking his behind-the-wheel exam. Then I remembered him saying he didn’t like to drive much. And yet he’d come after me.
I was such an idiot.
“Boone, I’m sorry.”
He glanced at me, and then he shook his head and went back to steering. He pulled up to my place and parked in the driveway, setting the brake but not turning off the car.
“If you meant all that shit you said, then get out of this car.”
“Boone—”
“If you were just talking out your ass because you’re afraid of what the fuck is going to happen, well, join the goddamned club.”
“Boone—”
“And if youeversay that bullshit about dead weight to me again?—”
“Babe, I’m sorry. I’m fucking spiraling, okay? Pops, my mom, and you’re leaving?—”
He shut off the car, got out, grabbed my bag from the backseat, and then waited for me at the front door.
Which was just enough time for my fucking tears to start up. I grabbed a few more tissues, got out of the car, and trudged my way up to the porch, where Boone was trying to get the keypad to work. I’d shown him how to use it, but he’d never had to in the short time he’d been there.
“Here.” I entered the code, opened the door, and waited for him to do something.
Without looking at me, he took a deep breath.“I suggest neither of us speak to each other until we’ve showered, eaten something, and slept for eight hours.”
“That’s fair,” I croaked. I held out my hand for him to go inside first.
He glanced at me, nodded, and then walked inside. He went straight upstairs to the bathroom, took the quickest shower I’d ever seen, and then he shoved me into the bathroom and shut the door. When I got out, he was down in the kitchen fixing us eggs, toast, and the last of the fruit we’d left before going to Rocktoberfest.
He slid a plate toward me as his phone rang. He’d already eaten, and he rinsed his plate in the sink as he answered the phone.
“Hey, boo. Yeah, we’re back at Shane’s. He’s fine, they’re both fine. Yeah, I talked to them. I’m going to meet with them and Dickie tomorrow. No, it’s okay. You guys enjoy the rest of the festival. I’ll have everything set when you get back. I love you, too. Fuck off.”
He hung up and slid his phone back in the pocket of his leggings.
“Annie?”
He nodded.
“You meeting with management tomorrow?”
He nodded again. “You were right. They want to build on the momentum of the festival. They sent me a tentative plan, I read through it while you were in the shower, and they’re pushing us to accept it.”
“What do they want?” I asked him, my voice hoarse.
