Chapter 24

Anthony

Self-loathing Sunday starts off with a bang.

Literally, what sounds like a shotgun blast, wakes me much earlier than I’d planned to get up. Memories of yesterday afternoon force me out of bed to make sure Joey isn’t expressing his feelings with a spray of bullets to my truck. I know that’s more of a psycho chick thing to do, but in this day and age, you never know.

Through my bedroom window, I find three deviant teenagers snickering over a pile of fireworks in the middle of the street. Knowing they must have sat on those damn things since the 4th of July, I leave them to it. Besides, Old Man Thompson down the street probably called the police the second they lit the first fuse.

My day continues with an edge of monotony. I can’t help but mull over every word, every moan, every clench of body parts from yesterday. Even after a run and a nap long enough I’d classify it as a sleep, I can’t stop thinking about it, about the slick glide of my hand over his…

I mentally slap myself.

Thinking about Joseph Snow isn’t something new for me. He’s become a regular in my thoughts since the first time I laid eyes on him, but after yesterday there’s a sickness in my gut I just can’t kick. What seemed like a great idea at the time has eaten away at me every second since. The leaving is what haunts me, not regrets over the amazing sex.

I’m not an asshole. Fuck, I was literally voted “Most Likable” in high school. Yet, I felt like a total asshole yesterday. From the second I released Joey and lost the warmth of his body, until this very second staring down at my ringing phone, I’ve felt like the biggest douche in the world.

“Hey man,” I say when the call connects.

“I need you to come get us,” Dave says immediately.

“Dude, it’s nearly midnight.”

“And that’s exactly what the tow truck driver said.”

Sitting up straighter on the couch where I’ve been vegged out since I woke from my nap, I shift the phone from one ear to the other. “Tow truck? Were you guys in an accident?”

I’m already standing and walking to my room to get dressed.

“I wouldn’t call it an accident,” he stalls. “We’re in La Grange.”

“Text me the address. I’m on my way.”

Hanging up the phone, I tug on a pair of sweats before slipping my feet into my sneakers. The phone chimes a text, but rather than being an address it’s a screenshot of a map with a pinged location. I call him back immediately.

“This isn’t a damn address. It’s in the middle of a fucking field.”

“Correct,” Dave says with no further explanation. The other two guys are rambunctious, loud, and clearly drunk.

“Tell me you’ve not been drinking and driving.”

“Fuck no.” He sounds offended. “I drew the damn short straw, had to stop drinking by lunchtime. Hurry up and come get us before Cooper tries to fuck a cow.”

“There is no way a sober person did this.”

The four of us stand on the edge of the pasture staring at the Suburban.

“I wasn’t,” Cooper chimes the same time Dave says, “Cooper buried it.”

“Clear up to the axels,” I clarify.

“I didn’t think the field was that wet,” Cooper counters with a quick shrug.

“You didn’t have a clue?” I point to the dozens of tracks through the fresh mud. “The fact that it stormed all weekend didn’t provide a hint?”

Jon, ignoring us, stands off to the side trying to use a flimsy stick to get the mud off his boots.

The fact that Cooper doesn’t give a shit is evidenced by the smirk on his face.

“I just washed my truck,” I grumble as I head back praying the chain is in the toolbox.

Dave waits until I dig the damn thing out before saying, “I don’t need you to pull me out. We just need a ride home.”

“You can’t leave it in the fucking field,” I argue.

With a slap to the back, he climbs into the front seat of the truck while Cooper and Jon file into the back. “I’ll make arrangements for it to be taken care of.”

Not making eye contact with Jon in the rearview mirror is challenging. He doesn’t seem anything but a little drunk, to be honest, but just knowing I was inside of his brother just twenty-four hours ago has my guilt at an all-time high.

“We should stop for pizza on the way home,” Cooper says from the back seat.

“I need a fucking shower,” Jon counters.

“If we don’t grab him something to eat, he’ll end up driving,” Dave says.

“I don’t feel like driving,” Cooper replies.

“You’re too drunk to drive,” I remind him. “We can swing by Whataburger or something. There aren’t any pizza places open this late.”

“We left all of our shit in the Suburban,” Jon says with a grunt.

“Your boots were already scraped off,” Dave reminds him. “I’ll make sure you get all of your stuff back tomorrow.”

Dave leans his head against the seat, and his eyes flutter closed as the cab grows quiet.

Fighting the urge to tell my secret, I focus on the road, grateful that it’s dark outside.

“Did you check on Joey and Andi?”

Dave’s head rolls in my direction, but I refuse to look at him as Jon waits for me to answer.

“Yeah, yesterday. Joey was home waiting for Andi to show up.”

“Didn’t check on them again today? It’s like two in the morning.”

“He said you guys were expected back around dark,” I answer. He didn’t, and I hope it’s not another lie I’m going to get caught in.

“Fucktard over here,” Jon says slapping Cooper’s chest with the back of his hand, “was late getting back to the cabin.”

“Sent him out on a beer run last night and the fucker didn’t show back up until eight tonight,” Dave adds.

“Get arrested?” Why else would he be gone for an entire day on the guys’ trip?

“Not exactly,” he answers with a smile in his voice. “Got pulled over. Finest State Trooper I’d ever seen before in my life. She did use her cuffs on me, twice, but she never booked me in.”

Chuckling, Jon continues the line of questioning I was hoping the distraction would end. “So you don’t know if Andi made it over there?”

“They would’ve called if something was wrong,” Dave says for me. “Besides, didn’t you speak with Joey earlier?”

My grip on the steering wheel is so tight my hands squeak against the leather. My mind begins to race, wondering if they got stuck on purpose to lure me out and deal with me. Did Joey tell them what an asshole I am, and they’ve been planning this all day?

“Yeah, but not long. Andi didn’t stay the night,” Jon answers.

All conversation is dropped as we make the hour and a half trek back to Sugar Land.

Even though Cooper is snoring with his face pressed against the once clean window, Dave insists that we still stop and grab him a burger.

“Tomorrow is going to suck hard,” I grumble after handing cash to the drive-thru attendant.

“Call in sick,” Dave suggests.

“How do you still have a job?” Jon asks from the back seat.

“I don’t call in sick, but I also don’t bitch about working when I stay up late,” Dave clarifies.

“He’s up late because we got the fucking Suburban stuck, not because it’s his choice,” Jon argues.

Not bothering to respond, I refuse to tell him that I wouldn’t have been asleep even if I were at home. Between thoughts of Joey and the long-ass nap I took earlier, tomorrow was going to suck anyway.

Dave doesn’t say another word as we wait at the window for Cooper’s food, and it makes me feel like shit that Jon defended me after the shit I pulled yesterday.

“But you’re going on the cruise with us, right?” Finding Jon’s eyes in the rearview mirror, I nod.

“I have to work through Wednesday because I’ve only accrued enough comp time for two days,” I explain.

“I’m just glad you can make it,” Jon says.

“At least Joey and Andi will have someone to harass other than us,” Dave adds.

I don’t really think that’s going to be a problem. Joey may never speak to me again.

“Don’t worry, man.” Jon claps my shoulder with his hand. “That shit’ll die down eventually.”

Dave is suspicious and has been since Jon asked about Joey and Andi. He must not have known I was tasked with checking in on them while they were away. I’m the dumbass that mentioned Joey was alone when I saw him. I do the only thing I can do: ignore him, at least until I can get him alone and explain, or lie, whichever seems right at the time.

Fifteen minutes later, Cooper is dropped off, grateful for a bag of food he has no clue how he got.

“You next?” I look over at Dave.

“I’m gonna crash at Jon’s,” he responds.

“Choosing the couch over your own bed?” There isn’t a bed more comfortable on this earth than my own.

Chuckling, Dave looks over at me. “I’m sleeping in Joey’s bed.”

Except maybe that one.

My head snaps in his direction. “Joey’s in his bed.”

Jon laughs when Dave says, “Exactly.”