Page 19 of Raff
“But you want it when things turn around again.”
“I guess, yeah.”
“You can’t sacrifice everything. You have to have some of the things you love. I mean, you have me,” he said, shooting me that boyish smirk of his. “And, arguably, I’m more than enough to love. But I can’t begrudge you some creature comforts.”
He was good at that.
Breaking down mountains into molehills, making everything feel a lot more tolerable or figure-out-able.
“You do, you know that, right?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Have me. And I won’t tell anyone about this. That’s not my place. But I’m here. If you want to vent. Or if you want to plan.”
“Plan?”
“Two heads, I figure, are always better than one.”
Maybe I could use some fresh eyes on this. Ones that weren’t clouded by rage and grief and a growing sense of hopelessness.
“And I’m always game for a road trip buddy,” he added. “If your research takes you south again. I make killer playlists. And know all the best gas stations.”
“‘Best’ and ‘gas stations’ feels like an oxymoron.”
“Only because you’ve never been to the good ones. Had the best sub of my life in a gas station in Georgia. I also have a ranking of the ones with the top five best chocolate milk.”
“You would,” I said, my eyes rolling the way I always did when he said something ridiculous. What adult had a ranking of the gas stations with the best chocolate milk? Raff, of course.
“All seriousness,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “If you’re going on the road again, I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”
“I can take care of myself.” More in theory than practice, though.
“I didn’t say that you couldn’t. But I’d imagine this fake Drake guy might not like being confronted. He might take it a lot better with a big gun in his face. That’s all I’m saying.”
He wasn’t wrong about that. Men got dangerous when they were faced with the consequences of their own actions. And this was a lot of money he was going to be confronted with stealing.
“There’s no guarantee that he would be traveling through the South.”
“I don’t exactly give Slash my itinerary.”
“He doesn’t have you check in?”
“Not unless I’m having issues. He’s not the micromanaging sort. Knows I’m gonna get the job done, even if I go on a dozen side quests along the way.”
“But I’d be an accessory to a crime.”
He shot me a look that saidYou’re already an accessory to a crime.
“Yeah, but I control that. This would be out of my hands.”
“It should ease your mind that I’ve never even been pulled over. Not on all my little road trips. Even if I had, they’d need reasonable cause to search the vehicle. Which they wouldn’t have. But we could work out a deal. I drive you down, help you search for fake Drake. Then I put you on a plane back to California while I drive back and pick up my guns.”
He made it sound possible. Enjoyable, even. At least more enjoyable than going on my own.
“Maybe. I mean, I’d have to find the asshole first anyway. And I haven’t had any luck with that.”
“Well, you gorgeous thing, you,” he said as he got to his feet. “I have every faith in you.” He stepped closer, leaned down, and pressed a sweet kiss to my forehead. “Now, get some sleep. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
