Page 19 of Rowdy Boy
Tori’s still screaming and laughing beside me, completely unaware that I’ve lost control.
We’re weightless.
It’s hopeless.
There’s nothing.
It’s everything.
My body knows to brace for it, but I don’t have time to get the words out to warn her before the front tires reconnect with the road. I grit my teeth as we hit, trying not to lock up as I let the car jostle me forward against the restraint of my seat belt.
I’m just glancing over to make sure she’s okay when I simultaneously hear it and feel it. The car lurches to one side, and I have to swerve to course-correct and keep us in our lane. Two seconds later, reality hits. We just blew a tire.
“Fuck,” I hiss as I try to smoothly apply the brake and get us safely to the side of the road.
The Jeep clunks along and makes a grinding noise that makes me cringe. I don’t exhale until we’re safely parked on the shoulder of Route 8. I let my head slam back against the headrest while I try to steady my breathing. Without turning to look, I reach out and grip her hand in mine.
“We’re okay,” I assure her. I don’t pose it as a question, because I couldn’t survive it if I hurt her or scared her with my bullshit.
She pulls me toward her until I’m forced to sit forward and meet her gaze.
“We’re okay,” she repeats when I finally look at her. She offers me a half smile that confirms she’s physically fine; I didn’t shatter her trust with that little stunt.
Thank God.
Except—we’re not okay. We’re on the side of Route 8 with what I assume is a blown-out tire. I can change it, but it’s going to take some time, especially with the way my hands are shaking right now.
Fuck.
What have I done?
Doesn’t matter. My only concern now is what I have to do next.
“I need to check out the tire. We’re far enough over that we should be safe from passing cars, but I want you to stay in here, just in case.”
She holds up her cell phone and winces. “Want me to call for backup?”
I’m concerned about my car. I’m low-key panicked about showing up late for dinner. But it isn’t until that moment that I realize how thoroughly I just fucked up. Rhett is going to kill me.
I run a hand up my face and readjust my backward baseball hat as I consider my options. There’s no point having anyone come out to help—as long as it’s just the tire, I can replace it on my own. But there’s no way I’m going to have time to go home and change before dinner, let alone drop Tori off at her house.
“Call Rhett. Ask him to meet us at The Grille. That’s where I’m supposed to be in”—I check the clock and grimace when I see the time—“twenty-eight minutes. I’ll change the tire, then we’ll head there. Tell him it should be around seven fifteen or so.”
She nods wordlessly, looking from me to her phone, then back again.
I reach over and place one arm around her shoulders. I’m still shaken up, so I know she has to be feeling it, too. “You sure you’re okay?”
She gives me a tight smile. “I’m okay. Really. That was awesome… until it wasn’t. But just because I’m okay doesn’t mean I can keep this from him…”
I sigh, then nod, accepting that there’s no way out of the consequences. Rhett’s gonna rage. But I don’t fault her for needing to tell him.
I wink to assure her that I don’t expect her to keep anything from my best friend. The only person I have to blame for this mess is myself.
“Call Rhett and hang tight, baby,” I say as I get out of the car and make my way to the trunk. “We’ll be heading back into town before you know it. I bet I can get this tire changed in less than fifteen minutes. You can time me if you want.”
Chapter 9
Wesoarintothepacked parking lot of The Grille at seven thirty on the dot. I’m whipping through the lot faster than I should be after what we just endured but slow down when I see Tori gripping the frame of the car out of the corner of my eye. I consider driving back to the front of the restaurant and handing my keys to the valet, but then I spot Rhett standing next to his Prelude near the back of the lot. We make eye contact, and he nods, getting in his car to back up and give me his spot.