Chapter Twelve
Dylan
I’d been impulsive. And stupid. And now, I was a little lost. I could use the GPS on my phone, but I was afraid the battery wouldn’t last.
Home. What a concept. When had I started to think about the Dean house as home?
Then a text came in. I looked down at it to see it was from Taylor. She clued me in on what she’d told her father about my absence. She had lied to her father for me. I knew how close they were, it must have killed her to do that.
I rubbed a hand down my face. She’d been trying to protect me. She cared about me. And now, she’d covered for me.
Taylor Dean had my back. I stopped walking for a moment. No one had ever had my back. In my entire life, no one had had my back.
Taylor did – at a great personal risk to herself. I couldn’t let her down. I couldn’t be the old Dylan that just ran away from things. I had to go back. I had to apologize to Taylor, too.
She’d been right about Barbie. The text conversation had said it all. Barbie hadn’t sent a text to cover my butt. She hadn’t even sent me a text to see how I was. Bitch.
I turned on the GPS and realized how far away I was. I’d never make it home in the next half hour.
Should I call Mr. Dean? Or should I call Cole?
“Hey, Cole,” I said when he answered. “I need a favor.”
“Sure, bro.”
“I need a ride.”
I told him where I was. I sat on a bench, hoping no cops came by. I thought about what Taylor had done. She might have risked her standing in her social group. She might have risked her father’s trust.
All for me. No one had done that. My mother had never done that for me. I’m sure the woman loved me, but she loved her addiction more. As much as Taylor’s mother could be a pain, at least she was the same every day. I never worried if I was going to meet her drunk or stoned.
Her dislike of me had been consistent.
A cop car rounded the corner. I wanted to run. I might have in any other circumstance, but I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong. There was no curfew. I had a ride on the way.
So I sat, looking at my phone, praying the battery would last.
I stared at the text from Taylor. She cared and it warmed me.
The cop parked his car then climbed out.
“Good evening, officer.”
He put his hat on while he looked at me. I couldn’t see his face, but I’m sure he was taking in my appearance. I should look respectable. My tattoos, which seemed to mark me as bad news in this neighborhood, were covered.
“Evening. What are you doing?”
“Sitting here waiting for a ride. I went out for a walk and got lost.”
“Oh?”
He leaned in, probably to smell my breath. I didn’t drink. I’d seen what my mother did when she was drunk. That’s how I came along, after all.
“Yes, sir. I called a friend and he’s picking me up.”
“Can I see some identification?”
I pulled out my wallet and gave him my license. I was eighteen, so there wasn’t much he could do if I hadn’t committed a crime. Loitering was the worst thing I was doing tonight.
He handed it back. “Okay, Dylan. How about I wait with you until your ride gets here?”
“Sure, officer. It should only be a few minutes.”
He sat down next to me. “Did you go to the dance at the high school tonight?”
“I did.”
“Was it fun?”
“Not as fun as I thought it would be,” I said.
He chuckled. “Yeah, teen girls are tough. I have a daughter who is twelve and she’s already starting.”
“I just know them from school, and I don’t understand them.”
“You never will, son. Sorry. Been married fifteen years. Still don’t understand my wife,” he said. He thrust out his hand. “I’m Officer Kenney.”
I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Cole pulled up at that moment. “Is this your friend?”
“Yes, sir.”
I stood. Officer Kenney spoke to Cole, then let me slide into the car. “Have a good night, son.”
I waved at the officer then Cole drove away.
“Was he hassling you?” Cole said.
“No, just chatting. I didn’t run since I wasn’t doing anything wrong. And, I am eighteen.”
Cole dropped me at the front door to the Dean’s house. I thanked him before he drove off. I took a deep breath before I walked into the house. The only lights on were in the kitchen. I needed food anyway.
Mr. Dean was perched on a stool. He turned to me with a smile.
“Sorry, I’m late.”
“Taylor told me. You were helping a friend home? He or she?”
Shit. Taylor hadn’t specified. “She. It was a little sad. Her boyfriend left her there,” I said as I headed to the refrigerator. My stomach was empty.
I found some leftovers and reheated them in the microwave. Mr. Dean sat with me while I ate, making small talk. I was glad he didn’t press me for further details on my story.
He seemed to believe what I had to say, probably because of Taylor.
“How was the dance?”
“Too much drama. I’m sort of ready to be done with high school.”
“Yeah, I remember fourth quarter was tough. I didn’t want to concentrate. I was accepted to where I wanted to go to college. There wasn’t any reason to go to class. “
“Did you?”
“I did even if I didn’t want to. What are your plans?”
“After high school? I don’t really know. I guess I’ll have to get a job. Maybe go to college online.”
He nodded. “Well, let’s see what I can do for you.”
Once again, someone had my back.