“I don’t understand why I couldn’t bring Shakira. She’s my girl. This is cheating.” Ren knocked his knuckles on the dash.
“Wait for it.” KC winked at Ren.
I chuckled weakly.
“For what?” Ren tilted his head and stared at the road ahead.
KC slowed the Jeep and his turn signal made an annoying clicking sound. After he spun the wheel, the tires bumped onto the short dirt drive that led to Errol’s house, which was a pretty generous description of the wooden shack Errol must’ve built by hand a million years ago when he moved here. Ren grunted and grabbed the dash while KC chuckled.
Piles of scrap metal and old cars—God knew where Errol got them—lined both sides of the drive and spread out into the massive yard, which was more like a field these days. He hadn’t been mowing much, and from what I understood, the neighbors actually loved him, so no one complained. Closer to the house, the grass was cut and the piles disappeared. The single-story hovel with wooden panels slapped on the outside had never looked great, but now half a utility pole was propped at an angle against the left side. I hoped it wasn’t the only thing keeping the entire structure together.
“What the fuck?” Ren asked, leaning forward. His mouth fell open a bit.
KC snorted out a laugh. “I told you that you wouldn’t want her here. Shakira would shake apart.”
“I always liked Errol’s,” I mumbled.
Ren glanced over his shoulder at me with his eyebrows raised.
There was a small veranda out front that was nice-ish with an old porch swing. The light beside the door was on, but it probably wouldn’t have been necessary because Errol—or maybe Barber, since his motorcycle was here—had a massive bonfire going in the firepit. Everything was illuminated with a hellish flicker. Seats surrounded the ring of stones, just outside the scorch zone. Two picnic tables a bit farther back were a new addition since I’d last been here.
KC outright laughed at whatever Ren’s face was doing and slapped the steering wheel.
“This isn’t bad. Errol must’ve filled in some of the potholes.” I poked Ren’s back.
Ren grimaced. “Why would Luke want to come here to live?” He flopped back against his seat, taking it all in.
Irritation powered through me and I squeezed the cupcake boxes so tight the edges began to crumple. I forced out a longbreath and relaxed my grip. “At least everyone here tells the truth. It might not be a very nice property or house, but everyone who lives here is a straight shooter.”
“Barber said they’re going to get one of those prefab houses out here before the snow hits. Errol meant to do it years ago, but he was paying his daughter’s school fees. When she went to college, she got scholarship money, so he’s been able to save for once.” KC glanced at me in the mirror with a pinched expression.
Ren’s head tilted to the side and he turned around with a small frown. “Are you okay?” His eyebrows dove and he looked far too concerned—totally unlike himself.
“I’m fine,” I muttered.
KC pulled the Jeep in next to Barber’s bike, and I shoved open the door as the brakes were squeaking to a stop. I tripped getting out. My stomach lurched as the cupcakes wobbled before I righted them.
“Hey, boys!” Errol called from the side of the house, waving a pair of silver tongs. The smell of cooking meat came from that direction, so I assumed he had the smoker and a grill there because he ducked out of sight again.
I stomped over and set the boxes of cupcakes on the closest picnic table before I totally ruined them. I rested my hands on the edge of the table and dragged in a deep breath.
KC came around my side and kissed my cheek, then took a second to straighten his jersey on my shoulders.
The sweet comfort melted some of the bad feelings slashing away at my insides. I stared at goldenrod swaying nearby against the house, the yellow flowers brilliant in the firelight.
“You doing all right?” KC asked softly.
I nodded, then yelped when someone pinched my ass. Of course, the someone turned out to be Ren, who smirked when he slid around to my side. I thought about opening the box ofcupcakes and hurling one at him, but that would be a waste of good sugar and icing.
The screen door opened and slapped shut again, and Sophie came out carrying a metal bowl with a lid on it and a large spoon. She looked as perfect as ever with her long blond hair fluttering around her face in an artful arrangement of curls. She was wearing a cute orange-and-black flannel over a white T-shirt and jeans.
Happiness bolted through me as I rushed toward her. “Soph! What happened? Why are you here instead of Massachusetts? Shouldn’t you be in school?” I held out my arms.
She tossed the bowl and spoon on a picnic table and squealed, holding out her arms for me. Her hugs were just the right amount of sturdy, and I sagged into her, but she leaned against me, too. I got the feeling she was having as much angst as I was today.
“Why are you here?” I mumbled against her hair. I took a deep breath. She smelled like cherries and fall. I wasn’t sure if the smell was her shampoo or a perfume, but it was nice.
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes as she stepped back and patted my chest. “Crisis of faith? I’m not sure I want to be a surgeon anymore. Ta-dah!” She wriggled her fingers and looked ready to die. “Aren’t you proud? After all that work to get into Harvard.”
