Sarah dropped her arms after a moment, and I was able to push the memories back into their vault.
That couldn't have been more awkward, but thankfully, Sarah said nothing as Tim slid an arm across her shoulders.
"Yes, you're welcome any time," he said warmly.
"Thanks," I stammered, anxious to leave before any other memories could resurface.
"I'll be back in a few," Dean said, grabbing his keys from the table by the door.
"Drive carefully," Sarah said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
"Don't forget to lock up when you get home," Tim said, giving him a one-armed hug.
"Will do," Dean said, lacing his fingers through mine. "Did you have fun tonight?" he asked, opening the door of the jeep for me.
"Sure," I answered, buckling my seatbelt. I really was telling the truth. I did have fun, all the way up until I realized that my presence would tarnish their happy lifestyle.
Dean looked at me, obviously trying to get a gauge on if I was being sincere. After a moment, he finally started the vehicle and pulled out of the circular driveway.
"My parents really liked you," he said conversationally, pulling onto the main road.
"Right," I answered, looking out the window. He was wrong of course. Parents as a rule didn't like people like me.
"I'm serious," he insisted. "My mom told me while you were in the bathroom that you're a sweet girl."
I snorted at his words. "Sweet? She wouldn't think that if she knew me," I said sarcastically before turning back to my window.
"Mads, why are you so hard on yourself?" he asked exasperated as he pulled into my driveway.
"Dean, stop acting dumb. Even if you don't believe half the stories about me, you can't deny the ones that do count. For God's sake, I once made an entire church congregation split down the middle. I broke up a church. Is that something a sweet girl would do?"
"Cut the shit, Madison. Churches split all the time. What makes you so certain yours split because of you?" Dean argued.
"Because I had sex with the youth minster!" I spit out before opening my door.
By the lack of shock on his face, I could tell he already knew. Of course he did. Everyone knew. The box of poison notes in the Coffin under my bed proved that. For an entire year, I had endured crumpled up papers filled with hatred being chucked at my head. Everyone knew most of my secrets, but they didn't know all of them.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not on your life," I said, climbing out of the jeep.
Dean climbed out of the vehicle and trailed me to the front door. "When does your mom come home?" he asked.
"I don't know, eleven or so. She doesn't have to get up early tomorrow, so Friday nights are always late. Why?" I asked, confused that he'd changed the subject so abruptly. It took a moment for it dawn on me. He was so disgusted by my adolescent actions he'd prefer to ignore them. I didn't blame him, since that's pretty much what I had been doing for the last four years.
"I don't like you being home alone at night," he said, taking my keys from me so he could walk through the door first.
His concern was laughable.
"Don't be an ass. I've been home alone almost every night for the last four years," I said, trailing behind him.
"Do you want me to hang out until she gets home?" he asked, worriedly scoping out my house to make sure no one was hiding in the shadows.
Although I felt like I'd been put through the wringer tonight, I couldn't help being touched at his protectiveness.
"God, no. Donna would have a coronary. I'm not supposed to have friends over," I admitted.
"For how long?" he asked, finally done checking the area where we were standing.