Rudy: Have her home by 11:30 p.m. On the dot.
Rudy: And not a minute later.
Rudy: Or I’ll chop off your balls and use them for hockey pucks.
Rudy: Meaning, no future little pretty boys running around to carry out your legacy.
Rudy: Also, have fun and treat her right
Austin: She doesn’t live with you.
Rudy: I know, but I’ve always wanted to say that.
Oliver: That was very specific.
Hayes: And odd.
Me: Your protectiveness over your sister is cute, but let’s not mislead people into thinking you can take me when we all know I would snap you like a twig.
Rudy: Touch one hair on my head and Goose will dump your ass faster than any of your record-breaking goals.
Oliver: Don’t they have to be dating for her to dump him? Pretty sure this is just a first date. Who says he’ll get a second, considering how slow he was at getting the first.
Austin: Yes, I would agree.
Hayes: He’ll get a second date. Don’t screw it up.
Me: Yes, sir.
Rudy: I want evidence Goose is home by 11:30 p.m.
Me: Sure, Rudy. I’ll send you a picture.
Rudy: Thank you.
Me: Of Erin in my bed.
Austin:
Rudy: Not. Cool.
Me: Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home so I can run a bath for my date. Maybe I’ll join her—she might need help getting all that glitter glue out of her hair and from behind her ears.
Rudy: I. Hate. You.
Me: Yeah, but your sister loves me.
Hayes: Children.
My fingers twistin my lap, my eyes latching onto the leftover dried glitter glue that didn’t come off. Using the side mirror, I take in Chase and Brax talking beside the tailgate, although I can’t hear what they’re saying. I wonder if they’re talking about the investigation. I suppose it makes sense Brax would be helping. He’s a detective, after all. He probably has access to resources that are helping.
Watching them makes me wonder if Chase is sharing the theory I shared with him about someone keeping him from finding the answers he’s looking for.
They do that man handshake thing where they smack hands and hug, and my nerves pick up as Chase heads toward the truck.
I rub my palms against my jeans, trying to dry the sweat off them. I don’t want him to be grossed out if he wants to hold my hand.
“Ready?” he asks when he climbs in and pulls his seat belt over him.
