Make You Mine

I’m not trapped in this mansion. I’ll do my best to save my dad, but either way, I’m getting out of this place.

Chapter 22

Gray

Note to Self: Next time you can’t sleep, don’t go back to the Red Cat and let Dagwood buy you whiskey all night.

My head is pounding like an anvil when I finally open my eyes. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and the sun streaming through the blinds is like a laser cutting my brain in half.

“Jesus,” I groan, moving slowly to the kitchen.

I pop a few ibuprofen pills and grab the orange juice out of the fridge. Sipping slowly, I wait as the coffee drips. My phone sits on the counter silent, taunting me with thoughts of Drew.

I left the Red Cat with good intentions of dropping off the Jag then coming back here and going to sleep. I didn’t expect to stand in the driveway, looking up at that house, and wanting to text her. Knowing she was so close, my fingers curled with the need to touch her. I wanted to hear her voice.

I told myself it was too late, but by the time I walked back to my place, I was too keyed up to sleep. So I went back and had more whiskey.

Like I could ever drink her away.

Dagwood spoke out loud all the thoughts I’d been holding inside. The only thing we didn’t say, the question bothering my mind since the accident, is why?

Why would Danny say he was my friend and react the way he did?

It made me feel like a tool in his revenge against his dad. Like our friendship had been a lie, and all he’d ever wanted was to piss his dad off… by being friends with me.

It’s a cynical view of the situation, and I know it’s wrong. I remember how close we were through the years. Still, it tormented me in a way nothing else could.

The coffee pot bubbles and groans, and I have to break this line of thinking. I remember the therapy. It only takes thirty seconds to change a thought pattern. I have to focus on something else.

Anyway, like Dag said, Danny is dead. Nothing’s going to change what he said to me, and holding onto it is just bringing me down. I have to let it go.

A fresh envelope is in the box. Inside are a set of car keys, ancient and easy to copy, and a torn-off sheet from a spiral-bound notebook. I peek out the window and see a shiny yellow land-barge in one of the spaces. A quick glance at the note tells me Taylor’s number and a list of what he’s done so far.

In a few minutes, I have it up on the lift, inspecting the insides, the lines and power train. These old cars are pretty basic, not like the hyper-technological insides you get in modern vehicles. It makes them easier to restore—if I can find the parts.

After an hour-long phone call, discussing what he wants, I spend most of the day making lists and fixing what I can on the old heap. Mack had a few telephone numbers and websites that helped me track down oil filters, hoses, and belts.

The timing belt is in decent condition. Must’ve been changed in the last hundred thousand miles. The radiator hose is also in pretty decent condition, which is a plus. Billy stops by for a few hours, and when he sees the old heap, he gets right under the hood with me. He tops off all the fluids, inspects the clutch, and checks the tires. They look fairly new.

Time passes quickly, and like the doc said, it distracts my mind from thinking too much about the past, things I can’t change. Blaming myself.

What never goes away is Drew.

I haven’t been thinking about bad things, but every time I slide my palm along the fender, I think of working on the Jag, which makes me think of Friday night, being alone with her in the lake house. Her body was so beautiful. We came together like nothing had changed. The truth hit me like a sledgehammer. I love her. I never stopped. But have I fallen in love with someone who can never be mine?

I’m hungry and tired when Billy leaves. My head stopped aching, but I’m sure I’ll crash before long. I dig around in the refrigerator and settle on some leftovers from the dinner Mrs. Banks sent last week.

I wonder what Drew did today. I’m sure she went to church. She was always good like that because of her grandmother and her mother. She said they would have wanted her to keep going. I thought she might have texted about the Jag.

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My phone buzzes in that moment, as if by force of will. I guess it’s Taylor wanting to know when he can stop by tomorrow. I’m wrong.

Drew: Spent the afternoon with Ruby and her mom. Learned you’re a horse, I’m a dog, and we’re a match made in heaven.

The surge in my chest travels all the way to my lips, and without even thinking, I’m smiling like an idiot.

Me: I’m pretty sure I haven’t smiled all day today.