Ask Me If I Care (SWAT Generation 2.0 4)

“You ready?” he asked, holding up my phone.

I took it and shoved it into my shirt between my bra and my skin.

He watched the move with curiosity but didn’t say a word as he gestured to the wide-open front door and held out his hand.

I held up my hand slightly in front of us.

“My hands are wet,” I said, heart hammering.

He grabbed my hand anyway. “I heard you wash your hands, sweetness. I don’t care about a little water on your hands.”

My heart rate went from acceptable, you can still live levels, to you probably can’t sustain this kind of rate for much longer.

He’d found my keys at some point, and when we exited my apartment, he locked my door as if he’d done it a thousand times.

“This apartment complex is something else,” he said, looking around as he walked me to his truck.

Lightning lit up the sky once more, and I saw his face focused on something in the very back corner of the lot. The place where I suspected drug dealers lived but chose to ignore.

See, rent was very, very cheap here. And on a guidance counselor’s salary, cheap was what I needed if I wanted to live by myself.

“It’s cheap,” I explained. “And nice. The parking lot is a little rough sometimes, but ultimately, everyone stays to themselves. And there aren’t any kids here.”

“Kids are a bad thing?” he asked curiously.

“Kids are a bad thing when you have that kind of stuff going on in the corner,” I gestured to where he was still focused.

Hayes grunted and turned away, walking up to his truck and opening the door for me.

I climbed inside, thankful that I’d gone for something loose seeing as Hayes’ truck was rather high off the ground.

He waited until I was all the way inside before closing my door for me and rounding the hood to get into his own side.

Once he started it up, his headlights illuminated my front porch.

“I like that, by the way,” he said. “Sounds good.”

My wind chime.

My wind chime that my mom had gotten me when I’d moved out.

“I love listening to it,” I said softly. “I think it drives my neighbors nuts, though. But everyone here has something that bothers someone else. My neighbor, for instance, likes to listen to his television so loud that I can hear every single word said. I don’t even have to turn my own television on to know what’s happening on all the new shows.”

He backed out of his spot with a smile, then casually reached over for my hand once he was on the road.

I swallowed hard, hoping that my hand wouldn’t betray my nervousness.

And, to cover up my nerves, I started to chatter.

“Where are you from, Hayes?” I asked.

It’d been something that I wanted to know for a while, but hadn’t had the courage to ask.

“I’m from Texas,” he answered. “Though, not from around here. Up near the panhandle.”

I looked over at him just as another streak of lightning pierced the sky’s darkness.

I jumped as thunder immediately boomed.

“Jesus,” I breathed, putting my free hand over my heart in surprise. “That scared the crap out of me.”

He grinned over at me but quickly turned his eyes back toward the road.

“Have you ever thought of leaving Kilgore?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Well, let me take that back. I have thought about it, but immediately think better of it because this is my home. That was why I was so excited when this guidance counselor position became available. Which is why it’s pissing me off so badly that freakin’ Bailey is being such a jerk.” I looked at him more closely. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” he answered. “It’s something my father has always asked people. And I guess that just kind of sticks when you hear it so often. He likes to say that there’s a whole wide world out there for us to explore and learn. That I waste it when I stay in one place.”

“Your dad travels a lot?” I asked curiously.

He snorted. “My dad lives out of a suitcase, and my step-mother caters to him.” He looked over at me. “Did you meet them when you were dating Ryan?”

I shook my head. “No. I’d spoken to them on the phone, but Ryan was always busy. I’m fairly sure that he always planned on us breaking up, so he didn’t introduce me to anyone. Which, for his sister’s part, I’m not too upset about.”

His grin was swift.

“She’s still in the city lock-up, by the way,” he said as he flipped his blinker on to make a U-turn. “I highly doubt that she’s going to get out of this one. I bet she sees some real jail time.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that.

I lived by the ‘if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it’ policy. It served me well working with school-aged children.