Page 54 of Stealing for Keeps
“Don’t pull into the driveway,” she says, so I pull up to the curb.
“Is anyone home?” I ask, wondering if it’s okay to leave her alone. She seems less likely to be sick, but she’s still very drunk.
“My mom and sister, but they have to get up really early for a dance competition, so I don’t want to wake them.” She fumbles for the door handle and goes to step out, but the seat belt stops her.
She laughs as she realizes her error.
“Do you need any help?”
“I got it.” She pauses on the sidewalk next to my car and takes off one sandal. She lets it dangle from her fingertips. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Thanks for not puking in my car.”
We stare at each other for a beat. She doesn’t shut the car door, and I don’t put it in drive.
“Okay. I should go now.” She still doesn’t budge for another few seconds, then steps away. She attempts to shut the door but doesn’t quite get it.
I lean over to shut it myself, watching her walk up to the front door. She’s stumbling and laughing. There is zero chance she’s not waking up the whole house.
I keep watching as she fumbles around in her purse.
“Don’t do it, Keller.” I grip the steering wheel. I tell myself she’ll be fine. So her mom wakes up and sees she’s drunk. It’ll be fine, right? Ugh. Dammit.
I kill the engine and get out of my car. I jog up quietly, joining her at the porch.
“Hey,” she says too loudly. “I can’t find my key.”
“I’ll help you,” I whisper. Taking her purse, I rummage around until I find a key ring. There are several on it, with color-coded rubber rings. “Which one?”
“Yellow.” She sighs. “Yellow for Mom’s house, green for Dad’s. I’m saving the pink one for my house someday. I want to live in a pink house.”
One side of my mouth lifts as I slide the key with a yellow rubber ring into the lock. “A pink house?”
When I push the door open, she stumbles ahead of me without answering. The house is dark. There’s some dim lighting along the bottom of the cabinets in the kitchen and a lamp at the bottom of the stairs that glows in the corner.
She heads for the stairs before I get the door shut. Her footsteps are heavy, and she’s humming. My palms start to sweat as I ease the door closed and hurry after her. I catch her about halfway up.
“Why are you following me?” she asks loudly.
“Shh.” I whisper, placing a hand at her back when she leans back too far. If we don’t fall down and break something, I’ll be shocked. “I’m just making sure you get in your room.”
“I’m fine.” She wobbles again, and I catch her around the waist.
“Yep. I can see that.”
I hold on to her as we walk up the remaining steps. She’s still humming and generally just totally unaware of how loud she’s being. Does she always walk this loud? I mean, I know the boot is noisy, but it’s like she’s hammering into the hardwood floor with every step.
Thankfully, this house doesn’t creak as we walk. I guess it’s too new and fancy for that. I note the closed doors as we navigate to her room.
“And I made it.” She throws up her hands and spins in a circle, somehow not falling down. I bet that’s a move she did a million times in figure skating.
“Even with a boot, you’re graceful.”
She laughs again, still not quietly.
“You’re gonna wake up your mom.”
“Unlikely. She’s probably got her white noise machine going.”
