— FRANKIE —
5. RIGHT SHOES & A DEBRIEFING
The door slammed behind me, and I angrily wiped at my eyes, frustrated with myself. Why was it that the act of walking away from Austin seemed to be the trigger for my tears?
I hadn’t cried in a long time. Not once in four years. Not even after Nana had a stroke and she was unable to talk. I missed the old Nana, of course I did. But every time the doctors told me that there had been no improvement in her condition, that the paralysis and memory loss were just as bad, that she couldn’t speak coherently anymore, I told myself that at least she was still alive. There was still a chance. I wouldn’t cry because that would feel like giving up.
Nana had always been bigger than life. For her, being a slave to her body would be more painful for her than death itself. That’s why I was so desperate to find a way to help her improve. She’d loved and laughed and squeezed every last drop of joy out of the time she had, and I couldn’t stand to think that there was something holding her back. She always said she had no regrets, that she had lived the life she wanted to, and that I shouldn’t be sad to see her go when the time was right. But to me, it wasn’t time yet.
I wasn’t ready to give up on her because she’d never given up on me.
All she wanted was for me to be happy—to live the life I wanted. I could never make her understand that the life I wanted wasn’t the life I’d earned. And there was a definite difference. I’d made choices and sacrifices for those I loved, and I had to accept the consequences of those choices. Like Nana, I had to continue with no regrets.
As much as I didn’t want to sell this house, my brothers and I had made the painful decision to do it because we knew the money we raised could help Nana improve. We could get her life-changing therapies and medications that weren’t covered by Medicare. And she deserved that. After everything my father hadn’t done for her—or our family—she deserved the best we could give her. Nana would have been sad about our choice, but she also would have been proud because it meant something she had treasured could take care of someone we loved.
Reaching for the cabinet over the sink, I took out a glass and then filled it with water from the faucet, taking a long drink, willing my emotions back under control where they’d been for four years.
I hadn’t cried when we decided to sell the house, so why now?
Because Austin’s accusation—the idea that I wanted to sell the house—that was so unexpected it hurt. He knew what this house had meant to me. To all of us. In my mind, I knew that it wasn’t the house that was important, it was the memories we made while living here. And yet, deciding to sell felt like I was giving up my childhood. Like we all were. The truth was, I was afraid that once the house belonged to someone else, so would all those happy memories. I knew it was just wood and stone and wires and pipes. But this house, Nana’s house, was the foundation for most of my favorite memories. Saying goodbye to it would almost be like a death in the family.
I swiped forcefully at my eyes, angry at myself for getting emotional. I knew before I came home that this was going to be hard. Crying over it wasn’t going to make it any easier. I forced a breath through my mouth and swallowed back the lump in my throat. A moment of weakness. That’s all I would allow myself. Nana always told me when I got upset, “You can have this moment to cry. Get it out and then get back up.” And that’s what I was going to do.
Setting the empty glass in the sink, I turned and blew out a breath as I surveyed the kitchen and the dining room beyond. I reached up and gathered my hair into a ponytail, wrapping it with a rubber band. As I left the kitchen and walked through the dining room, I looked around, making mental notes as I finally came to the formal sitting room in the front of the house. Dust covered almost every square inch of the first floor, and the sunlight had to battle to get in through the dirty windows. Nana had only been in the nursing home for a few months, but it was clear that it had been much longer than that since the house had been properly cleaned.
My teeth worried at my bottom lip in guilt as I realized Austin wasn’t the only person I’d abandoned when I didn’t come home four years ago. I’d abandoned Nana too. I’d left her all alone in a house that had become too much for her to handle by herself.
Why didn’t she say something? Why didn’t she ask me to come home?
I released a deep breath. Because Nana would never have asked me to do something if I wasn’t ready. She always looked out for her family, even to her detriment.
I bustled around, throwing open the windows to let in some fresh air. I could sit here and wallow in guilt all day, but that wasn’t going to do any good. No progress would be made on this house without a little elbow grease. It was time to just get to it.
While Drew was going to do the big repairs—the ones I had no experience doing—I was going to work on the inside, cleaning out sixty years’ worth of living. My gaze traveled over the familiar furniture and the shelves. Antique butter domes, a coveted bell collection, and breakable knickknacks covered every square inch of wall shelves and table tops.
I shook my head, laughing to myself. In all honesty, I was the one who should have been getting paid instead of Drew. I definitely had the harder of the two jobs. Nana was a hoarder of epic proportions. She was never bad enough to require intervention like those people on television, but she had a weakness for pretty glass things, and she hated the idea of throwing something away that she might need again.
Seeing all the dust-covered treasures, I knew I wasn’t ready to tackle the main floor yet. I might need a drink or two before I attempted to sort Nana’s collectibles. I ascended the stairs and walked past her room and decided I wasn’t strong enough to deal with that either. Cleaning out that room would be like removing the heart of the house. Instead, I slipped into my room and grabbed the old fan before walking up the stairs to the third floor.
Half of the third floor was a room my brothers used to share, but the other half was the old attic. The attic was the worst of the hoarding nightmare since that is where Nana stored everything we had owned that she couldn’t bear to throw out or donate. I figured I might as well get that out of the way first. Clean the place out from the top down.
After plugging the fan in, I started hauling things down the stairs from the attic to the first floor-foyer that I planned to take to the dump. Anything else that was still in good shape would be sold at a yard sale I was planning. I shoved those things to the side in orderly piles.
I had made so many trips up and down the three levels of stairs that my legs started to ache after an hour. It didn’t take long before boxes of junk were almost reaching the ceiling and blocking the front door. Apparently, I’d done more sorting the night before than I’d realized.
Seeing that the hallway was filled, I decided to fill up the truck so I could make a trip to the dump. I lugged the boxes outside, the sun quickly rising in the sky and turning the mild morning air into a soupy, humid, mess. I carefully stacked everything in the bed of my truck, amazed, and a little sad, at how easy it was to get rid of things that Nana had held on to for so long.
But I couldn’t think about that because then I’d think about the house.
When the hallway was empty, I trudged back upstairs to gather the random pieces of trash still littering the floor. I was filling a large, black trash bag with junk to toss out when I heard the soft, sensual sounds of a cello trickle in through the window. I stopped dead in my tracks, feeling like I’d fallen under a spell. Or into a memory.
I only needed to hear the first few sweet slides of Austin’s bow to know he was playing “I Will Wait.” And I knew it was Austin because his style of playing was forever imprinted on my brain and ingrained in my heart. The song was missing the fast-paced notes of Dallas’s part, but I could still hear the echoes of those notes in my head because I’d heard it so many times before.
Dallas had always been the heartbeat of the songs—the rock and roll, the passion. But Austin had always been the soul. Dallas could make you want to rock your body and sing along. Austin could make you weep and swoon and feel. And that’s why they’d so easily become the Dueling Cellos. They might have been twins, but they were opposites in every way, their styles battling through every song, making you desperate to hear it over and over again. I never got tired of listening to them play together. I never got tired of watching Austin play.
I’d heard this song a million times before, and the lyrics flowed across my thoughts in time with the music—sweet words about coming home and falling into someone’s arms.
My heart ached. I wanted to believe that Austin was playing that song for me. For us.
I tiptoed to the window that faced his house, stood to the side where he couldn’t see me, and peered out. He was sitting on a desk chair in his room, the old cello nestled between his legs, his body curled around it as his fingers danced expertly across the strings along the neck. The old wooden body of the cello was still covered in Red Hot Chili Peppers stickers, and I smiled when I remembered how his mother had gone apeshit when she saw it.
Austin’s arm muscles flexed and tightened as the bow slid across the strings in perfect strokes. His eyes were closed, and his body swayed as if the music was a breeze tossing him around.
There was no one to sing the chorus, but the words filled my mind—he would wait for me. He would wait.
The notes were sad and accusatory. They’d never felt that way before. I’d always thought them to be hopeful and loving.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and bit down hard, wondering how long Austin had waited in Vegas for me to come. I wished I knew how long it had taken him to finally give up on me. Days? Months? Years? How long had it taken him to hate me as much as he did now? And could he possibly hate me more if he knew the truth—the reason I never came?
After the way he’d been treating me, the answer was a big fat “yes.”
Soon the music was speaking about faltering steps and giving in, forgiveness and never forgetting. It sounded so lonely and emotionally decadent. So full of pain and heartbreak. And I couldn’t listen to another note.
Grabbing the half-filled trash bag, I hurried down the steps and out the front door. I tossed it into the back of the truck with the boxes I’d already brought out and then threw myself into the front seat. I stared at the steering wheel trying to convince myself to go back up and gather the rest of the trash. It was stupid to make more than one trip when I didn’t have to.
But I did have to. I couldn’t listen to another second of Austin’s heartbreak. Of my heartbreak.
I twisted my keys in the ignition so violently that it threatened to rip the key in half. Thankfully, the engine roared to life, drowning out Austin’s music. With a yank of my hand on the gear shifter, I was reversing out of the driveway, a cloud of dust kicking up into the air around me. I threw the truck into drive before it had even come to a stop. Pushing the gas pedal down in a frantic need to get away, I sped down the road, through town, toward the dump.
But no matter how far away I got, no matter how far away I drove, I could still hear the lyrics echoing in my head, clawing at my heart. It seemed the music was a declaration, a promise that from now on he would be strong and listen to his head instead of his heart. That he was done with me and my lies.
It was his way of telling me that everything had changed. That he didn’t feel the same way about me as he did four years ago.
But no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it felt like a goodbye, part of me never wanted the music to fade because even the pain of Austin’s hatred was better than not having him in my life at all.
***
Austin didn’t talk to me for the rest of the week. He scrubbed his patio clean and had a guy fix the mess I’d made of the pool, but he didn’t host another party or play his music loudly again. I didn’t get a wake-up call with a pie to the face, and his windows were closed tightly—no more sounds from his cello for me to hear.
Drew fixed my air conditioning and had spent the last few days replacing the shingles on the roof. The front step was still broken, but he said he’d fix that with the rest of the porch. I’d started cleaning and painting the inside of the house one room at a time. So far, I’d finished a bedroom and a bathroom on the second floor. Things were going well. I should have been happy.
But all I could think about was Austin and how much I still owed him the truth. I wished I hadn’t told him to go home. Instead of running away when I heard him playing the cello, I should have gone over to explain things to him. I yearned for him to talk to me, even if it was things said in hatred. At least if we were talking, I could make him understand. Maybe. But now that it had been a few days, I couldn’t bring myself to confront him again.
I hadn’t forgotten the promise I’d made to him for prank revenge, that was still going to happen. I had my pride to think of after all. And if I was honest with myself, the prank war was a connection I still had to Austin no matter how much he hated me, a connection I very much needed. But I was biding my time. Part of the fun of a prank was watching the other person anticipate the retaliation.
Austin was making the wait downright amusing. If he was outside when I came out of the house, his gaze would immediately find me, his eyes narrowing, wondering. When he was out running, he’d approach his house carefully, inspecting his surroundings. I sometimes caught him peeking out of his windows if there was a loud sound from my house. And with all the repairs Drew was doing, that was often.
It was clear that the anticipation of a retaliation prank was killing him, which made it a thousand times more fun for me. The kind of fun distraction I desperately needed.
Being alone in the house, and sorting through my past left me with a lot of time to think. I reminisced about my childhood, my time with Austin, his time on Rising Stars, and all the promises we made to each other.
Rising Stars was the reality talent show that Austin and Dallas competed in during our senior year. After they won it and were offered a residency in Vegas, the entire Stone family moved out to Vegas the following summer. I had promised to come to opening night. Austin and I had sworn that the show would never come between us, that our love for each other could withstand anything.
But those were the promises of dreamers. And when I’d been faced with an impossible choice, I’d chosen to give him what I thought he wanted most.
Like I’d done so many times before, I questioned my decisions, wondering if I could have done things differently. All I’d ever wanted was for Austin to be able to follow his dream and be happy. But now, he didn’t seem to be doing either of those things. I couldn’t puzzle out what he was doing back home. He didn’t seem to leave the house much, and I wondered where Dallas was and why they weren’t performing together. If the show was on a hiatus or vacation of some sort, Dallas should be here too. He and Austin were always together.
All week I resisted the urge to bang on his front door and ask Austin what was going on, knowing he wasn’t likely to speak to me, or even answer the door.
On Friday, around noon, Drew sauntered in through the back door to let me know he was heading out to get lunch. He offered to pick up a sandwich for me, too. After he left, I leaned against the kitchen counter and stared through the window at Austin’s house and yard, which was once again pristine. And empty.
I yanked my phone out of my back pocket and Googled “Dueling Cellos.” The first few years, I obsessively followed the show and the Stone brothers online, Googling their names and feasting on every review and bit of news. But since last fall, I’d been busy with lots of new opportunities in my own life. And then the holidays, my career, and Nana’s health crisis had taken over my life.
My phone flashed with results, and confusion creased my brows when I found an article from last October and I realized how long it had been since I’d last stalked the Stone brothers.
=====================================
October 9, 2016
VEGAS WILL MISS THE STONES AND THEIR DUELING CELLOS
By Hot Vegas Nights
Austin and Dallas Stone, the winners of the seventh season of Rising Stars, have just announced that the last performance of their show, Dueling Cellos, will take place on New Year’s Eve at the Mirage. Rumors have been running rampant that the decision to end this popular, sell-out show is due to Dallas Stone’s health, but no confirmation has been made by the duo themselves.
“I’m heartbroken,” Cassidy Wells, a cast member, said. “We all love working with Austin and Dallas. It’s the best gig I’ve ever had.
When asked whether she could confirm that Dallas’s health issue was the cause for the show going on hiatus, Cassidy said, “Dallas is such a sweet guy, but he’s quiet. He doesn’t hang out with the rest of the cast much. In fact, he doesn’t come to rehearsals much at all anymore.
Austin and Dallas Stone, who are famous in their own right, aren’t the only famous Stones. Their cousin, American snowboarder Trace Stone, was recently in town over the summer for ShredCon. Trace has been known to attend the Dueling Cellos show when in Vegas, and speculation is high that even though his competitive season begins in December, there is a good chance he’ll be in attendance with the rest of the Stone family for the last Dueling Cellos show.
=====================================
It was odd that this Cassidy Wells chick said that Dallas was quiet and sweet. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Dallas, but he was anything but quiet and sweet. That had always been Austin. Dallas was the loud smart-ass who craved attention and Austin was the brother in the shadows. I had a feeling Cassidy couldn’t tell the difference between the twins.
But what surprised me most of all was to find out that the show was on hiatus and that the last performance had been New Year’s Eve. That was over six months ago. What had Austin been doing since then and why had he come back home? And was it true that Dallas had health issues? He’d been sick when he was younger, but everything was fine before they had left for Vegas four years ago. He’d gotten better.
I made a few other attempts at fishing for information on Google, but came up empty handed. Whatever had happened, the Stone family had kept it off of social media. There was no other mention of Dueling Cellos or the Stones after January.
I rubbed my forehead with my fingertips as I read the story over again. If Dallas had been sick, Nana would have told me. She came to visit at Thanksgiving and Christmas. I knew that she kept in touch with Austin. If something was wrong, she would have let me know. Right?
What in the ever-loving hell was going on?
I wanted to know all the answers even though after everything that had happened I knew I had no right to them.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to ask, though.
I tucked my phone back into my pocket and was psyching myself up to go over to knock on Austin’s door and demand answers when two cars pulled into his driveway. I stepped closer to the window and pulled back the sheer curtain to get a better look. Four girls and three guys exited the vehicles, laughing and joking as they walked up the pathway and onto the porch. Before I could really get a good look at them Austin came outside to greet them and then led them all inside.
“Honey, I’m home,” Drew called as he opened the front door and entered the foyer. I let the curtain go as if it had burned my fingertips, and turned to see Drew step into the sitting room, lifting the bags of sandwiches in offering.
“Right,” I said, retreating from the window. “I’ll just grab us some drinks. We can eat out back.”
Drew came down the hallway and followed me into the kitchen. He went outside, letting the old screen door slam shut behind him in a familiar snap of wood against wood, and I pulled two bottles of water from the fridge before meeting him out back.
The wraparound porch had been one of Nana’s favorite parts of the house. There was always shade and a nice breeze, even on the hottest days of summer. I settled into one of the old rocking chairs as Nana’s wind chimes jangled in the breeze. Drew handed me my bag and after unwrapping our food, we ate in silence.
Neither Drew nor I were prone to small talk, and to be honest, there wasn’t much aside from the house repairs for us to chat about. We’d had a date all those years ago, but we quickly learned that we didn’t have much in common.
Austin’s back door opened capturing our attention. He and his guests came out wearing swimsuits and had towels slung over their arms. When Austin turned the music on, he glanced over his shoulder and met my gaze with a smirk before turning it up a few notches.
I lifted my eyebrow in challenge and then glared back.
“What’s going on with you two?” Drew mumbled through a bite of his food.
“What?” I tilted my head until I was looking at him. “What do you mean?”
Drew shrugged and glanced next door. “Weren’t you guys best friends or something? Now you’re both acting like you hate each other.”
“I don’t hate him,” I answered quickly. Refusing to look where Austin was entertaining his guests, I focused on my lunch. “How long has he been back?”
Drew shrugged, staring off into the trees. “About a month.”
I took a bite and toyed with the edge of the paper wrapper. “Did he come alone or have you seen the rest of his family?”
“I haven’t seen Dallas or Abby. Or his bitch of a mother.” Drew took a swig of water, draining half the bottle in one gulp. I couldn’t argue with him on that. Chantel Stone had a reputation that she’d legitimately earned.
I chewed in silence, wondering what the deal was. Dallas, Abby, and Austin had always been close. It didn’t seem right for him to come home alone. “Does he throw a lot of parties?”
Drew chuckled. “Austin? He pretty much keeps to himself, like he always did. He had friends in town last weekend. I think they were part of the cast in his Vegas show. They came into Brews and Cues one night.”
I made a sound of acknowledgment but didn’t say anything.
I felt Drew’s gaze burning into me, and I looked up as he grinned. “It was the same night I heard the cops showed up at his house. You know anything about that?”
Plastering a look of innocence on my face, I pressed my hand against my chest. “Who me?”
Drew laughed, shaking his head, and I smiled back. We finished eating lunch as Nana’s wind chimes sang, but all I could focus on was the sound of music and merriment coming from next door. When I couldn’t resist any longer, I looked over. Austin was laughing and horsing around with his friends. A girl with auburn hair walked over to him and hugged him, resting her head on his chest.
It was obvious he was having plenty of fun without me.
Which meant it was a perfect time for a little payback.
I stood up and grabbed the remnants of our lunch. “I have to run out for a bit, but I won’t be gone long.”
Drew brushed crumbs off his lap and then took another drink of water as he stood. “Sounds good. I want to finish shingling the roof today. Then I need to order materials to fix the broken decking and railing pieces on the front porch.” He laid his hand on the wood. “And don’t forget,” he said, draining the rest of his water before crushing the plastic in his fist. “You owe me a beer tonight.”
“Noted. Brews and Cues, right?” I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder again.
Drew chuckled. “Is there any other place? It’s the only bar in town.”
“Good to know some things haven’t changed,” I said wistfully before entering the house and stuffing the trash into the garbage.
I heard Drew grab his tool belt and make his way up the ladder to the roof. I ran upstairs and snagged two empty duffle bags out of my brothers’ old room. Half of the third floor was the old attic storage space, and the other half was a large room that my brothers used to share. My mother was under the impression that by putting the boys on the third floor, it hampered their ability to sneak out since they’d have to sneak past her room and Nana’s on the second floor. She vastly underestimated their ability to climb trees, scale walls and defy rules. She would have done better to put bars on their windows. Hell, she should have put bars on my window too.
Grabbing my keys from the entryway table, I ran out the front door and jogged down the steps, avoiding the broken board at the bottom. I tossed the bags onto the passenger seat of my truck and scooted in behind the wheel. With a swift turn of the keys, the engine rolled over a few times until settling into its customary loud growl. I could still hear the music over the rumble of my truck which meant that Austin had probably turned it up even louder.
Did he honestly think that I was just going to let it go? Or was he provoking me on purpose?
Glancing into the rearview mirror, I could see Austin watching me with a grin on his face as I drove away. He probably thought he was forcing me out, but he should know me a lot better by now. He was just providing a distraction.
I drove my truck halfway around the block and then parked it along the sidewalk, out of view from both of our houses. I jumped out of the truck after grabbing the duffle bags and then cut behind Ms. Rose’s house. She was on her knees tending to some of her flowers but looked up when the wiener dogs on the other side of the fence started barking and running around, scaring the chickens and making a racket. I’d almost made it through the yard when Ms. Rose spotted me.
Her scowl over the noise broke into a happy grin when she saw me. “Frankie? Is that you, dear?”
I slowed my pace. “Hey, Ms. Rose.” I waved. “Your garden looks as beautiful as ever. I hope you don’t mind. I just needed to…” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder toward my house, unable to come up with a good reason for why I was running through her yard.
“You’ll come over for tea one afternoon, won’t you?” she asked, unaware that my appearance was anything but innocent. “I sure do miss talking to your grandmother.”
My heart warmed. Ms. Rose was one of the few people who never looked down her nose at our family. “Sure thing, Ms. Rose.”
She gave me a quick happy wave and turned back to her flowers. I took off through the yard, ignoring the commotion from the wiener dogs and chickens. I crossed the street running, knowing that anyone who might see me would know I was up to no good. However, by the time they could do anything about it, I’d be long gone.
The front door to Austin’s house was unlocked. I slipped inside, careful to cast a quick glance around first. I could hear the music and laughter coming from beyond the sliding doors in the back of the house, but it didn’t look as if anyone was inside to catch me sneaking around.
Austin’s room was on the second floor, and as I hurried up the steps, I was bombarded with memories. The same pictures still lined the walls, and everything was exactly as I’d remembered—right down to the smell of Austin’s room when I crept inside. His room smelled like a mix of his shampoo, the rosin from his bow, and wood polish—like molasses and comfort.
Shaking my head to dispel the feelings of longing that crept into my heart, I went to his dresser and opened the top drawer. Boxers were folded neatly inside, and I grabbed them by the handful, shoving them in a duffel. I also grabbed all of his swimsuits and anything else that looked like it might pass as underwear. I even grabbed the dirty boxers out of the laundry basket in his closet.
Once that was done, I gathered the right shoe of every pair of footwear he had and started filling the other duffel. I briefly considered stealing every right male shoe in the entire house, but figured his guests shouldn’t have to pay for his midnight wake-up call.
I was just about to rush down the stairs and make my escape when I remembered the laundry room. Austin was a guy who kept things neat, and there hadn’t been much to find in his dirty clothes. There was nothing in the washer, so I checked the dryer.
Jackpot.
I rooted through the towels and socks, pulling out more boxers and adding them to my collection. I’d just closed the dryer door when I heard voices coming up the stairs. With no other choice, I turned off the light and shut the door, trapping myself in the laundry room.
“…feel so bad,” the female voice said as it approached my hiding spot. “He’s all alone. At least if he was back west, he’d be with family.”
“I know, but his mind is made up. This is where he wants to be,” a male voice responded.
“But he’s running away, Huck. This thing with Dallas—”
A twinge of guilt filled my chest as I wondered what kind of trouble there was between Austin and his twin. No matter how different they were, they had always gotten along fine. But maybe that was because Austin was so easy going.
Despite my worry about the brothers, when she said “this thing with Dallas,” it gave me hope. Maybe the article was wrong, and the reason the show had been canceled had nothing to do with Dallas’s health but with a disagreement between the brothers. As much as I didn’t like the idea of Austin and Dallas arguing, that was better than the alternative.
“It’s his decision, Cat. It’s not up to us to tell him what to do. We’re here to take his mind off things. Help him have a good time.” They’d paused right outside the door, and I held my breath, hoping they wouldn’t come in and find me.
The unidentified woman huffed out a breath and then laughed as I heard footsteps retreat down the hall. “Well, if anything can take his mind off things, it’s Marlow. That girl puts my wild streak to shame.”
The guilt in my chest melted to nausea in my belly. As soon as I heard their footsteps fade, I cracked open the door to the laundry and peered out. The hallway was clear, so I clutched my duffels close and made my escape.
As soon as I was outside and crossing the street, I threw a few glances over my shoulder to be sure I hadn’t been seen, and then the adrenaline finally started to kick in and bubble up through my chest. I wish I’d planted a camera so I could see Austin’s reaction when he realized he not only didn’t have any underwear but didn’t have a complete pair of shoes either.
“Hey, Ms. Rose,” I called as I scampered past her to my truck. “How about we meet for that tea on Wednesday?”
She smiled at me and didn’t seem to notice my bags were noticeably fuller. “That would be lovely, dear. I’ll make my coconut cake!”
“Awesome. See you then!”
I threw myself and the duffels into the front seat and then took my time driving back home. I parked on the other side of Drew’s truck and on a whim, opened the rear door to his vehicle and shoved the two bags under his back seat.
Mission accomplished.