"And you just realized this?"
I nodded.
"You know," he said, "you didn't have to lie to me. I would've helped you either way."
"I wasn't lying."
"Right."
He was a fine one to talk about lying. "Are you gonna let me go or not?" I asked.
"You wanna go? Fine. But you're not walking. Not alone." His gaze dropped briefly to my clothes. "And not like that."
"I'll be fine," I insisted.
"Yeah? And how are you gonna get inside your house?"
"I'll figure something out."
He looked at me a long time. "Alright." Something in his voice made my heart hitch just a little. "You win."
Funny, I didn't feel like a winner.
"But I'm still driving you. And that's not negotiable." He glanced toward his house. "I'm gonna get the car. I'm guessing you wanna wait here."
I nodded.
"Yeah. I figured." He turned away, walked a couple of steps, then turned back around to say, "And just so you know, you can run off if you want, maybe scale the fence, whatever. But so can I. And I guarantee you, I can do it a lot faster than you can."
I stood near the gate, the cold stinging my face, as I waited for him to come back. I didn't know what to think or how I felt. But whatever it was, it wasn't good.
Soon, the familiar hot-rod pulled up next to me, and the passenger side door flew open. Silently, I climbed into the car. The gate had slid magically open as Lawton's car approached, so it was a simple matter of driving through it. Except it didn't feel simple. None of this did.
Other than the rumble of the engine, the short drive to the Parkers' was utterly silent. Lawton didn't say anything, and neither did I. My stomach churned as I reviewed the highs and lows of the evening. The highs had been spectacular, the lows mortifying.
And what would I find when I arrived back at the Parkers'? The back door open? Chucky gone? The place trashed?
From the passenger seat, I snuck a sideways glance at Lawton. His hands were tight on the steering wheel, and he stared straight ahead, his face devoid of expression. My heart ached just a little when I considered the change compared to just a short time ago, when he'd looked at me with enough tenderness to make my insides melt.
I bit my lip. This wasn't all his fault. Maybe none of it was his fault. But it wasn't mine, either. Not really.
When we pulled into the Parkers' long, tree-lined driveway, I turned to him and mumbled a perfunctory thanks for his help.
Other than a silent sideways glance, he gave no indication that he'd heard me at all. Instead, he cut the engine and opened the driver's side door.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
He gave me a hard look. "I'm gonna help you get inside."
"How?"
"I don't know yet."
"Yeah, I bet," I muttered.
I didn't know either, but I had a pretty good guess. Probably through a broken window or shattered door, courtesy of his stupid brother.
Together, we walked toward the front door. As we approached, I gave it a good, long look. Surprisingly, it looked fine. When I got there, I tried the doorknob. It didn't budge. My hand still on the doorknob, I scanned the front windows. They looked exactly the same as before.
