We were about ten minutes out of Goose Run when my phone chimed. I pulled it out of my pocket to find a message from Cash with a picture of the truck in the parking lot of Sunny Fields.
Bro, what gives?
And a second later:
You didn’t come home last night. Are u ok?
Cash didn’t say much, but he texted like a champion, and he was a world-class worrier.
Do I need to go wake grandma up and tell her you’re missing?
Shit.
I texted back before he could make good on his threat.
I’m fine. Truck wouldn’t start.
So where are u then?
People sometimes thought Cash was stupid because he didn’t talk and he hated to make eye contact, but he was sharp as hell. And always straight to the fucking point. There was no point in trying to dodge the question either.
I stayed at Miller’s.
I watched the little dots appear and disappear. At first I thought he must be writing an essay, but then his message came through: it was a pair of wide eyes and an eggplant. My phone pinged again.
Pro boner.
Which, fuck him for assuming, and fuck him twice for being right.
Miller was watching me out of the corner of his eye as he drove. “Everything okay?”
I pulled a face. “Cash just wanted to know where I was. I guess he saw my truck in the Sunny Fields parking lot and got worried.”
“All you guys are pretty close, right?”
“Yeah.” I looked down at my phone, then back at Miller. “Is it okay that he knows I stayed at your place?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’re my lawyer.”
“I’m Jane’s lawyer.”
“Okay, but is this thing—” I waved a hand between us. “Is it something that you want to keep on the down-low?”
His forehead creased. “Why would I? I’m out.”
“Okay,” I said. “Cool. Me too.”
I ignored the flicker of anxiety in my gut. I should have been glad Miller didn’t care if people found out we were hooking up, so why wasn’t I? Was it because I’d assumed I was something he should be hiding? I’d never in my life given a shit about who I was or where I came from, but that was because most everyone I hung around with, let alone slept with, was no different from me. But Miller was a fuckinglawyer. And if he didn’t have a problem with it, then how come I did?
And why did I even care? It wasn’t like we were actually dating. Maybe there was no problem and I was running on too little sleep, too much caffeine, and the stress of wondering how the hell I was going to afford to get my truck towed if I couldn’t figure out how to fix it later.
Yeah, that was it probably.
Just lack of sleep because of the best sex of my life.
I flashed Miller a grin, settled back, and listened to Creedence ask me if I’d ever seen the rain.
