COEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I pack everything, set my alarm for six, and go to bed, feeling like an idiot.
I don’t know where asking her to come with me came from, but I should have shoved it down hard.
Now, I look like either a player or an idiot, both of which I’m not thrilled about.
Somehow, I fall asleep and stay that way until my alarm sends me bolting upright, hitting the bedside table to silence it.
Through the window, the sky is dark, a pale blue line like ice behind the distant mountains.
I get up, gazing out at it.
“Fuck this shit,” I say quietly. “Onwards and sideways.”
Jamie always says that: onwards, not always upwards, but never standing still. Defeated, I shower up and dress in the same dark t-shirt and jeans I showed up in.
Quietly, I gather up my bags and leave the key on the table. The box of Scott’s things still sits on the table for Jamie. I’m not taking it back. If Jamie wants it, I’ll have it shipped, but knowing Jamie, he’s not in the business of looking back.
I should say goodbye to Bill, but I think I’ll call him on the drive and explain, once I feel up to it. I’ve been on the road so long, goodbyes don’t mean much to me anymore. I don’t think I mean enough to Bill for him to care anyway.
I circle the house and throw my bags in the truck bed, pulling open the door.
“Coen.”
Startled, I turn on my heel. Sabrina stands on the porch with a big leather duffel bag in her hand.
She’s stunning, takes my damn breath away.
Her hair is piled in a messy bun on her head, bangs hanging around her face that looks like she just scrubbed it.
She’s in her boots, those jean shorts I can’t take my eyes off of, and a white t-shirt that says The Man in Black across it.
Does this mean what I think it does? My heart skips a beat.
“Yeah?” I manage.
Her lips part, eyes huge. “I’m coming.”
It takes a second to process that. Then, I can’t bite back my smile as I cross the driveway and reach for her bag. She hands it over, biting her lower lip.
“You mean that?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah, but I haven’t told my dad, so we better get going before he sees us. He’ll take you out with the shotgun, famous or not.”
I laugh out loud, and she shushes me and darts down the steps. Excitement is palpable, almost contagious. A second ago, I was downright depressed, and now, I’m walking on air. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted this to happen.
I put her bag in the back seat. She’s already in the passenger side when I slide behind the wheel.
“One last time,” I say, the engine rumbling to life. “You sure?”
Her bright eyes snap to me. “Very sure. Let’s hit the road, cowboy. I’m ready to go.”
I laugh, spinning the truck around and hitting the gas a little too hard.
Gravel spins out as we rumble down to the road, and then we’re speeding down black tar with yellow lines flying by.
The sun crests the mountains. She flips her sun visor down and sets her purse on the ground, kicking off her boots and pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged.
I glance over at her, at her bare thighs, the faint tanned strip of her belly.
God, she is beautiful.
My foot presses down. It’s warm enough to roll down the windows, so I do, and she lets her head fall back as she puts her arm out the side.
“Play something,” she says.
I hit the volume button, and the last song I was listening to starts playing. She turns her head to the side, smiling so wide, it’s giving her the prettiest creases around her eyes and mouth.
“Dancing in the Dark? Really?”
“It never gets old.”
“No country this time?”
“I’ll always have a special place for Springsteen.”
She shakes her hair back. “Would you be shocked to know I've never listened to this album? I only know a couple songs off it.”
I almost drive off the road. “Well, today is the day to start.”
Neither of us speak for a long time. After a while, she rolls up the window and turns to me, curling up one leg and letting the other hang.
She’s got a little gold anklet around her leg, and it’s driving me up the wall.
There’s no way we’re not getting through this road trip without fucking at least once.
I glance sideways.
More than once, I think I need to pull over.
“Can we get coffee?” She’s still ecstatic.
“Sure thing,” I say, hitting the map on the dash. “What kind you want?”
“Anything. I love shitty gas station coffee.”
The map loads, and there’s a truck stop about ten miles up the road.
From the looks of it, it’s a pretty big one too, which surprises me.
I tap it and sit back, stretching my legs out.
I wonder if I should mention what I’m thinking, or if I should wait.
We’ve only been driving thirty minutes. I glance down at my lap to make sure looking at her bare legs hasn’t given me a boner. That would be embarrassing.
It did.
I shift again, cocking the leg closest to her. She’s too busy messing with her phone to notice.
“Did your dad find out?”
She shakes her head. “He’s probably still asleep. Serena’s gonna talk to him first and try to smooth it over.”
“Your sister’s a good one,” I say. “She really loves you.”
“Yeah,” she says softly.
“I don’t know how, but she reminds me a lot of Jamie. They’d get along well.”
Her nose scrunches as she thinks. “Is he the peppy one?”
“Like I’m not?”
She laughs. “You’re not in the slightest. I’m surprised you made a career out of being onstage, because you’re pretty introverted.”
The truck stop appears in the distance. It’s one of those huge operations with double sliding glass doors leading to glossed floors and rows of food, clothing, toys, and anything else a person could need on the road.
“I can be extroverted,” I murmur, pulling into the enormous lot.
She makes a hmm sound, taking off her seatbelt. Before I have a chance to even grab my wallet, she’s out of the truck and heading to the door. I scramble to fall into step with her as she enters the building.
“Where you running off to?” I say.
She glances up through her lashes. “What? You can’t catch me?”
Oh, I’m not the only one thinking those thoughts.
“I can catch you,” I say. “Just give me a wide open space with nobody else around.”
Her jaw drops. I grab a pack of beef jerky and head to the coffee bar. She follows me, and, when I hand her a paper cup, she shifts closer.
“I think you’re a lot dirtier than you let on,” she whispers.
I shrug. “Fuck around, find out, baby. I’d love it if you did.”
She’s speechless, and that’s probably on me for holding back the few weeks we’ve known each other.
Tonight, I’ll find a hotel and show her a thing or two.
That reminds me—I don’t have any condoms. My mind drifts, wondering if it’s coming on too strong to tell her right off that I need to pick some up.
My problem comes to an abrupt end when she hands her full cup of coffee to me.
“I need to use the bathroom real quick,” she says, jerking her head at the red sign hanging a few yards away.
“I’ll pay up.”
She nods. “See you at the register. Oh, and get me donuts. I like the chocolate-covered kind that comes in the paper bag.”
I smile, storing that information away for later.
She disappears around the corner into the bathroom, and I grab both coffees in a carrier before making a beeline for the toiletries.
There are a few condom options, a few lube options too.
The lube might be ambitious, but I get it anyway, because it’s always a good idea to have it on hand.
Then, I check out faster than anyone has ever checked out and shove everything in the bag beneath her chocolate donuts.
I have no idea why I’m trying to hide it so hard, except I don’t want her to feel pressured to do anything with me.
As spunky as she is, there is a power imbalance happening. I don’t want her to feel like, in order to ride with me, she has to fuck me too.
With her, I’m trying to be all kinds of careful.