Page 45 of Back to You
Nerves jumped around in my belly like little jumping beans. I could hardly sit still. We had the tickets. We had the RV. I’d spent all of yesterday packing my bags, checking and double-checking that we had everything we needed. I’ll admit, I was kind of spazzing out. I couldn’t help it.
“I’m gonna go toss my stuff in the RV,” I hollered, hiking my overstuffed duffle bag higher up on my shoulder. I’d also bought one of those fancy suitcases on wheels, which rolled along behind me. Dane’s two bags sat by the front door, so I grabbed them as well. “Got your stuff. Is it unlocked?”
“You’re good,” Dane called back from the bathroom.
I kicked the front door open and wedged my shoe in the crack to keep it from slamming shut behind me. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t see Custard make a break for it until it was too late. A yellow streak raced past me and into the bushes and immediately, my good mood sank like a ship in the night.
“Damn it, you old bastard, get back in here. We arenotdoing this right now,” I yelled at him, dragging my armful of bags down the drive. I unceremoniously tossed them into the RV and went looking for Custard in his usual hiding spots.
The cat was nowhere to be found.
That wasn’t unusual. Custard used to live on the streets. Sometimes, when he’d sit in the window and look outside, I wondered if he missed his stray-cat life.
Think about it—one day he was living life on the wild side and the next, he was live-trapped, got his nuts chopped off, and now lived in a box and ate kibble out of a bag. No more mice. Only kibble.
I felt bad for him, but we didn’t have time to go on a wild goose chase looking for the grouchy feline. Cursing under my breath, I jogged back up the front steps. “Custard got out. Come help me find him, would you?”
Unfortunately for us, he didn’t want to be found. We spent three hours combing the streets, only to come up empty-handed. My anxiety skyrocketed. “Great. Now what? We can’t just leave, knowing that he’s out there. What if he gets hit by a car? What if he eats a poisoned mouse?”
“Boy.” Abby punched me lightly on the shoulder, knocking me back into reality. “It’s Custard. If it were any other cat, I’d be worried, but c’mon. Custard is pretty much the street-savviest cat I’ve ever known. He’ll come home when he wants to come home.”
I glanced over at Dane. “Maybe we should wait.”
“The concert’s tomorrow night, and we still have to travel all the way there,” he told me.
“You already have your tickets. You can’tnotgo,” Abby insisted. “I want you to go. I promise, I’ll keep looking for him. I’ll set one of Gran’s livetraps up with some stinky wet food, maybe that’ll bring him home. I vow to text you as soon as he’s home safe. Cross my heart, hope to die. Blah-de-blah-blah.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” I rubbed at my sweaty forehead, pushing bangs out of my face. “Thanks, Abby. You’re the best.”
She grinned shamelessly. “I know. Now promise me you’ll have fun. No more worrying. It’s Custard. He always finds his way home eventually. Now give me a hug, then get your scrawny ass in that RV before I beat it.”
“You heard the lady,” Dane said around a chuckle. “Load ‘em up.”
After one last round of farewells, we were off. I waved at Abby from the passenger’s seat while Dane fumbled with the controls. Our takeoff was a little jerky. He laughed when I jolted forwards in my seat. “Sorry. It takes a bit of getting used to. At least we know our seatbelts work?”
I swatted at him. “I can’t believe it. In less than twenty-four hours, we will literally be mere feet away from Sebastian St. Crow himself. Be still my teenage heart.” I planted a hand on my chest and pretended to swoon. “I mean, we’ve only loved the band for forever.”
“Yeah,” said Dane softly. “And you know Violet will be there with us, in spirit. Can you imagine the fangirling she’d be doing right now? My god.”
“Our eardrums would be bleeding,” I agreed, squeezing his arm. His smile was wistful but resolute as he reached over and threaded his fingers with mine. I gave a squeeze. “Have I told you that you’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had?”
He snorted. “I’m the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
“Exactly. Does this thing have a CD player?”
“Nope, but the radio comes in pretty clear. We got her for a song—we can’t expect her to dance too. Oh, and by the way, I came up with a name for our nerdmobile.”
Uh-oh. This ought to be good. “Let’s hear it.”
“The S.S. Anne.” He was dead serious. When I didn’t reply, he cracked a smile. “You know? Like the cruise ship in Pokemon? We’re totally painting it on the side of our tank. Sweet Annie. See, it fits.”
“You are a nerd.”
“In the flesh.”
We were almost a hundred miles away from home when I heard it—a muffled meow coming from beneath the pull-out couch. I sat bolt upright in my seat, gripping the armrests. “Tell me you heard that.”
“What?”
