Where the Road Takes Me (8 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Blake

A cab had picked us up from the half-court and dropped Josh at his house before taking me home. Josh hadn’t said a word after the cops took Chloe away. I knew he felt guilty and that it was all his fault. I hadn’t even thought twice about taking the fall for him. He was my best friend, and had a shit ton more to lose than I did. Chloe, though—she hadn’t needed to do any of it. In the grand scheme of things, we were nothing to her. Like she’d said, she’d known me a week.

I’d gotten in my car and driven to the station. I’d panicked when they’d started asking questions about my relationship with her. I didn’t know shit. I didn’t even know how old she was. So I’d done the only thing I could think of: I’d called that seedy place she had taken me to a week ago and asked for Clayton. He’d shown up fifteen minutes later. That was seven hours ago. Seven hours with nothing more than a single nod of acknowledgment when he’d walked in. He’d spoken to the cops about her and then had taken a seat opposite me—his long legs kicked out in front of him. A few officers had greeted him by name, and I wondered how they knew him.

His loud sigh cut through the silence. My head jerked up. Slowly, he stood up and walked over to me. I didn’t know what it was about him that was intimidating. I was short for a baller but tall among average people. He stood over me and glared down. “Who are you to her?” His words weren’t laced with anger or confusion—it was just a question. I noticed he still looked as tired as the first time I’d seen him.

I didn’t respond.

He sighed again and took the seat next to mine. “Are you seeing her? I mean, are you her boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You want to be?”

I stared straight ahead. “I have a girlfriend.” Though Hannah wasn’t really relevant, I didn’t know what else to say.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me. Where was she last night?”

I shrugged.

“I don’t really think it’s appropriate—”

I turned to face him, cutting him off. “Are you okay with her and The Road?”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I dunno,” I spat out. I didn’t need him telling me what was appropriate and what wasn’t. “Just kind of makes you look like an asshole if you’re letting her get in her piece-of-shit car on an endless fucking road trip. You can tell me what’s appropriate all you like, but you know her better than I do. I’m sure you might even care about her more than I do. Just seems like a dick move, is all.”

He laughed. It was loud enough that the cop at the front desk stopped what he was doing and looked up at us. Once Clayton had settled down, he leaned back in his seat and drawled, “I like you, kid.”

I fucking hated being called
kid
.

“But here’s the thing you may not know about Chloe . . . yet. She does what she wants. She lives her life the way she wants, and nothing and no one can stop her.” He paused for a beat. “You guys go to the same school, right?”

I nodded, my eyes fixed on the floor.

“When did you start noticing her?”

My body went rigid, and my breath caught.

He must’ve sensed it, because he laughed again. “I thought so.”

“Thought what?”

“Chloe—she likes to remain invisible. The fact that she’s hanging out with you—or whatever it is you guys are doing—it means something. But just don’t fall in love with her.”

My eyes snapped to his. “Whoa. Who said anything about love?”

His hands went up in surrender. “All I’m saying is that you’re gonna get hurt. She’s not gonna be around, and she’s not gonna let you in. You might as well give up now.”

Maybe his words should’ve surprised me, but they didn’t. I’d worked out enough about Chloe to know what he meant. Just as I opened my mouth to ask
why
she was like that, the cop at the desk interrupted me. “I’ll tell you what, Hunter.” He pointed a pen at me and smirked. “You give me the exclusive of where you plan on playing college ball, and I’ll let your little girlfriend go.”

I dropped my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was pissed and so fucking tired. I wanted her out of there. I wanted to thank her. And I wanted my goddamn bed. “Are you charging her or just keeping her for shits and giggles?”

And, right on cue, the door behind the desk opened and she stepped out. Her eyes widened when she saw the two of us waiting for her. We stood at the same time, but her eyes fixed on me. “What are you doing here?” She sounded pissed.

“Waiting for you,” I answered with equal attitude.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I just wasn’t expecting you.” She turned her attention to Clayton. “Or you.”

He shrugged. “What am I gonna do? Let my little sis sit in the slammer?”

Her face lit up with her smile. “I wasn’t in the slammer, you asshole.”

“Close enough.” He yanked on her arm and pulled her in for a hug. “Don’t do this shit again,” he said into her ear.

She nodded as they pulled apart.

“What are you doing now?” he asked her.

“Get my car, go home, and crash.”

“You won’t be able to sleep. The kids will be up soon.”

She shrugged.

“I’d offer you stay at mine, but Lisa’s home this weekend. That could be awkward.”

I cleared my throat.

They both turned to me.

“Um, I know you’re tired . . . and there’s no one home at my house. We have lots of space . . . You can always crash there for a few hours. It’s the least I could do.”

Chloe

“Are you sure your parents aren’t going to care?” I asked as he opened his front door.

“They won’t know. Mom lives in the guesthouse, and Dad’s not home.” He waited for me to step inside.

I stopped in the middle of the foyer. My gaze scanned the expansive space. From the outside, I knew it was large, but I wasn’t prepared for how vast it would be on the inside. “Whoa, this is, um . . . big.” But it looked unlived in. Kind of like a hospital. The only personal touches I could see were military pictures of a man—I assumed, his dad—and some war memorabilia on the mantel in the living room. There was absolutely nothing at all that said a family lived there. No family photos hung on the walls, and there were none of Blake anywhere. No proud trophies on display. Nothing.

“I guess,” he said, taking my hand and leading me upstairs to his bedroom. “I’d describe it as empty.”

I stopped in the middle of his room and looked around. “This is, um . . .”

“Big?” he finished for me.

“No.” I dropped my bag and turned to him. “I was going to say empty.”

He glanced around the room. “I guess.”

“But this is your home, right?” I kicked off my shoes and slowly made my way to the side of his bed.

“Yeah, of course it’s my home. Why?”

I pulled back the covers and sat down. “I mean your
permanent
home. You’ve lived here for years, right? So why don’t you have anything personal in here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just expected it to be different. You’re good at basketball, right? Where are all your team pictures? All your trophies? Your jerseys?” I shrugged. “Aren’t you proud of your accomplishments? Or your parents—they aren’t proud of you? Mary—she even keeps the kids’ participation ribbons. I just thought—”

A low laugh bubbled out of him. But then he stopped—he must’ve noticed the look of pity on my face. “It’s just a room, Chloe. I come home, and I sleep in the same bed every night.”

“I don’t know,” I said, moving down the bed until I was under the covers and my head rested on the pillow. “I guess I just grew up in foster care . . . moved around a couple times . . . Those places were houses, not homes. I’d give anything to have a room I could call my own.”

He cursed under his breath and moved to draw the curtains closed. “I’m an asshole, Chloe, I didn’t even think.”

“It’s fine,” I said through a yawn. “Are you gonna sleep for a bit, too?”

“Yeah, I’ll be downstairs. Just come—”

“Wait.” I sat up. “You don’t have to go. It’s your bed.”

He hesitated for a beat, until I pushed down the covers as an invitation. He smiled, and I could see any fight he had left was gone. I waited for him to settle in before I spoke again. “Thank you for waiting for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why did you do it—take the fall for us? You didn’t have to do that, either.”

I turned onto my side. The bed shifted as he did the same. We were face-to-face, only inches apart. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble. Josh has Tommy. You have your entire future ahead of you.”

“And what do you have, Chloe?”

“I have the
now
.”

I could see that he wanted to persist, but he just frowned and stayed silent.

“They’re not pressing charges, Blake. Don’t worry.”

He nodded. “That’s good.”

“I’m wired now.”

“You want me to take you to get your car?”

“Do you want me to go home?”

“No,” he said quickly.

I laughed. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Where’s your dad? And why does your mom live in the guesthouse?” He blinked once, his eyes searching mine for a long moment. Long enough that I suddenly regretted asking. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry if it’s too personal.”

“No. It’s not that.” He reached out and settled his hand on my hip. My eyes drifted shut, but I didn’t remove it. After taking a deep breath, he continued, “My dad goes hunting with some old friends the first weekend of every month. That’s where he is now, or at least that’s what he tells us. The truth is he has a mistress. My mom lives in the guesthouse because she probably knows about it and hates her life. She’s a big-shot author. You know those romance novels with a bunch of white people almost kissing? Most of them are hers. She’d rather live in the world she creates in those books than deal with what’s in front of her. She’s also an alcoholic, so I guess living in the guesthouse makes it easier for her to not have to justify her actions or behavior to anyone.”

I felt I had plenty of reason to feel sorry for myself, but at least I had people that cared for and supported me, even when I didn’t deserve it. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it could be worse. At least I
have
parents.”

I smiled, but it was sad. “Mary and Dean are good people. They take care of who needs taking care of. I’m eighteen now, they don’t even have to let me stay there anymore. I’m lucky, really.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they just know how lucky they are to have you.”

I tried to hide my smile. “You’re not at all what I thought you’d be like.”

He laughed and pulled me closer. “You’ve been thinking about me?”

My cheeks warmed with my blush. “You know what I mean. It’s . . . never mind . . .” I buried my face in his chest.

“What, Chloe? What were you going to say?”

I raised my eyes to meet his. “You and Hannah. I get the whole high-school-jock-and-cheerleader thing, but you just seem above all that, you know? I guess it just doesn’t make sense to me why you’re with her. Well . . . apart from the fact that she’s ridiculously beautiful.” I stopped myself from saying anything else. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I shouldn’t say stuff like that. I don’t even know her. I’m being mean.”

His hand on my waist gripped me tighter while his gaze roamed my face. His eyes met mine with that same intensity I’d seen before. “I think
you’re
beautiful.”

My heart tightened at his words, but I couldn’t let him see that. So instead, I laughed and pushed his chest. “Shut up!”

He fell onto his back but recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer. I didn’t care that it might have been wrong, and I didn’t think he did, either. Alone, in this room, we could be who we wanted to be. No faking. No hiding. Just us. “Oooh,” he teased. “Chloe . . . What the fuck is your last name? I’m the worst friend ever.”

“Thompson,” I chuckled. “And I forgive you.”

“Well, you did give me a fake name. What the hell was that about?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Blake, will you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“After we wake up and we go to get my car, will you come over and have dinner with us? Dean—he goes to all the games. And maybe you could hang out with the kids . . . shoot your touchdowns?”

He laughed. This beautiful, boyish, carefree laugh. “Shoot my touchdowns?”

“What?” I asked, playing along.

“You’re not kidding?”

I bit my lip, trying to contain my smile. “What?”

“You’re just cute, is all. Fire truck, yes. I’d love to meet them and shoot my touchdowns.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Now sleep, my beautiful little stoner.”

“HUNTER!”

I knew who it was before my eyes snapped open. Within seconds I was out of his hold, out of his bed, and out of his house. “Shit shit shit.” I didn’t have time to see Hannah’s reaction, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be there to witness the aftermath.
What the hell was I thinking?
“Shit,” I said, louder this time. Pulling my phone out of my bag, I tried not to trip as I ran down his driveway. I’d never been to this part of town before, and I had no car—
and
my phone had just died in my hands.