Where the Road Takes Me (9 page)

A door slammed.

Turning around, I glanced at the front door expecting Blake. But no one was there.

“Is everything okay?” I looked back down the driveway and saw a middle-aged woman walking toward me. Her hair was dark, as dark as Blake’s. She had the same light blue eyes as him, too.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hunter. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She laughed once, stopping a few feet in front of me. “No one’s called me that in years, dear.” Then she looked from me, to the house, and to the car parked near the front door. “Is that Hannah?”

I nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?”

I nodded again, but then I remembered what Blake had said about her drinking. “Uh. No, thanks. I’ll walk.”

I turned to leave, but she grabbed my arm. “Sweetheart. I’m not—what Blake has probably told you. I’ve been sober for six months.” She pulled her keys from her pocket and showed me her six-month-sobriety-chip key chain. “I promise. I would never endanger someone else’s life.”

The front door opened, and Hannah’s deathly loud shriek made my mind up for me. “You can’t just have other girls sleeping in your bed, Hunter!” Blake’s mom must’ve seen the answer on my face, because she had already gotten into her black Bentley and was reversing down the driveway toward me.

“Where to?” she asked once I’d opened the passenger door and slumped down in the seat. I ignored Blake standing in his doorway, glaring at us. And I ignored Hannah in front of him, waving her hands in his face, trying to get his attention.

“I don’t really know. It’s this abandoned basketball court, but I have no idea—”

“I know the one,” she broke in, smiling slightly as she pulled out onto the road.

“He and Josh used to come here all the time when they were kids,” Mrs. Hunter said, driving onto the middle of the court, next to my car. “I haven’t been here in forever,” she mused to herself. Then she turned to me. “Are you his new girlfriend? Friend?”

“I’m nobody,” I said flatly. It was the truth, despite the stupid second in his room when I had let myself believe otherwise.

“It didn’t seem like that to me. You seemed pretty scared when you saw Hannah.” I opened my mouth to respond, but she raised her hand to stop me. “It’s okay. I’d have been scared, too. She seems like a bitch.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Her words were as surprising as the woman who’d voiced them.

“I don’t have a clue what Hunter sees in her,” she said.

“You call him Hunter, too?”

She rolled her eyes. I could see them even though she was looking straight ahead, past the windshield. “Military husband. I should’ve stopped it when he was a kid. It made my son sound like a soldier, you know? Someone that’s trained to take orders.
Blake
. . .” She frowned. “Blake . . .” she repeated. “I love the name Blake.”

“Maybe you should call him that or talk to him about it . . . or just talk to him . . .” I trailed off. It wasn’t my business, and I shouldn’t have said anything.

She turned to me, smiling again. “I don’t think
Blake
—”
She paused and grinned wider. “I don’t think Blake would consider you a nobody, Chloe.”

“How did you—?”

“Your mother and I were sorority sisters. I was a senior when she was a freshman and moved into the house, but I got to know her and your Aunt Tilly well enough. They were sweet, caring, genuine girls. I heard that your mother got pregnant and had you a few years later. And then when she passed . . . I was there at her funeral, and your aunt’s, too. You were what? Eight when your aunt died?”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry—for what it’s worth. Are you . . . ?”

“I’m fine.” I wiped my eyes and prayed that my voice would come out even. “You can’t tell Blake. You can’t tell anyone. Please, Mrs. Hunter.” I ended in a sob. I hated that I had. But what I hated more was when strangers spoke to me about them. When they’d had the experience of sharing a piece of them that I would never know.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice broke. “I didn’t mean to make you sad. This is your life, sweetheart. I won’t tell a soul.”

I buried my face in my hands, trying to compose myself. She pulled me into her and let me cry on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’m such a mess.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just a girl who misses her mom. We’re all allowed to cry for that.”

I pulled back and wiped my nose. “Blake—he misses his mom, too.”

“He told you that?”

I shook my head. “He describes his house as empty. I’d say that’s pretty damn close.”

She nodded slowly.

“He thinks you’re still drinking. I’m not going to tell him you’re not, but maybe you should. Maybe that’s one secret that should be shared.”

I opened the door to get out, but her words stopped me.

“Will I be seeing you around? Are you going to be spending some more time with Hunt—I mean, Blake?”

I
almost
said yes. After he’d waited all night for me at the police station, then held me in his arms as we’d fallen asleep . . . the way we were both so comfortable in our own world. But I just couldn’t let it happen. “No,” I finally told her. “But it was really nice meeting you, Mrs. Hunter. Thank you for giving me a memory of them.”

“Sammy counted to ten today, including the five,” Mary said. She was sitting next to me in the swing seat and gave a push to get it going.

“That’s awesome,” I said through a yawn. It was four in the afternoon, and I’d been home for over an hour, but I was still exhausted.

“He asked for you as soon as he did it. He wanted to show you.”

I smiled, looking down at the ground.

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need, Chloe. You know that, right? No one’s going to kick you out.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m still leaving after graduation.”

“Oh okay. I just thought maybe you might have changed your mind.”

“What would make you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the tall, dark, and handsome boy pulling up to the curb—” She nudged me with her elbow.

My head whipped up, and I spotted Blake’s car. He was just stepping out.

Mary continued, “—stepping out of his car with . . . what’s that? Flowers? Ooh, I hope they’re for me . . . and a bottle of wine, maybe? Now I really hope that’s for me. And his eyes look up—jeez, his eyes. And then he sees us. Oh, that smile . . .”

“Okay, Mary.” I stood up. “Thanks, but I don’t need your commentary.”

Her laughter faded as I walked down the path, meeting Blake halfway. “What are you doing here?” It came out harsh, just how I intended.

“Wow.” His eyebrows rose. “Someone’s pissy when they’re tired.”

I let my shoulders relax but not my guard. “Seriously, Blake. What are you doing?”

“You invited me for dinner,” he replied slowly, as if I were crazy.

“That was before all that shit with Hannah! You can’t—”

He pushed past, ignoring me. “You must be Mary?” I heard him say. I turned to them. He offered her the flowers. “These are for you.”

Mary thanked him before pulling him in for a hug. She smiled huge, giving me a thumbs-up behind his back.

Shit.

He was going to
charm
his way in. Mary was still gushing when the front screen door slammed open against the planter box next to it.

“Who the hell is this kid with his arms around my wife?” Dean yelled, a wide smile on his face.

Blake and Mary pulled apart, finally.

I stepped forward. “Dean, this is—”

“Blake Hunter!” He couldn’t contain his excitement. “Well, well.” His gaze moved to me. “Ain’t that something?” Then to Blake, “Come on in, son! Welcome to our home.”

Mary left and went to the store. Apparently, Blake’s presence was enough reason to cook a fancy meal. I could tell Dean was a little embarrassed by the house when he showed Blake around. He must’ve known the type of lavish lifestyle Blake was accustomed to.

Our furniture was old and worn and nothing matched. But they had been used, well lived-in, and I had a feeling that Blake preferred what he was seeing to what he had. It wasn’t until Dean showed Blake his high school–basketball trophies and pictures that I detected a sense of pride in his voice. I left them alone and went to the kitchen to make us drinks.

“You’re pissed?” His voice came from behind me.

I kept pouring, my eyes fixed on the seven glasses on the counter in front of me.

“You’re really good at the whole ignoring thing.” His hand clamped down on my wrist while the other removed the pitcher from my hand. “Did I do something wrong?”

I had to laugh. “Your—” I cut myself off and lowered my voice. “Your girlfriend walked in on us sleeping tog— Not
sleeping—
”

His chuckle broke through.

“You know what I mean, and it’s not funny, Blake.”

He set the pitcher on the counter and held my hands, turning me around, and bending his knees to look me in the eyes. He still had a smug smile on his beautiful face. “First, we weren’t doing anything wrong.” We had been, but I let that slide. “Second,
my girlfriend
walked in on us
not
doing anything wrong. If you should be mad at anyone, it should be her.” He straightened up, but he didn’t let go of my hands.

“That’s ludicrous. I can’t be mad at her. She didn’t do anything! She caught her boyfriend in bed—”

“So really . . . you have no reason to be mad at
anyone
?”

My eyes narrowed.

He laughed again.

I wanted to stay mad, tell him that he was being a dick and that he was wrong, but I just couldn’t. Not when he was this close, laughing that same boyish laugh from last night. “You’re an ass.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But you like me, regardless.”

“Is he your
boooooy
friend?” Amy teased when we were back out in the yard. Her cap fell forward over her little seven-year-old head and covered her eyes.

“No. And stop being a child,” I joked back.

Then Dean chimed in. “Yeah, Chloe, is he your
boooooy
friend?”

Blake’s chuckle was enough to make me turn and glare at him. “No, Dean,” I retorted, my eyes never leaving Blake’s smug face. “Hunter has a girlfriend.” His smile fell. “She’s the head cheerleader and the hottest girl in the entire school,” I sing-songed.