Something in the Way (Something in the Way 1)

“Great,” I said, trying not to sound too relieved as he gave it back.

The tension in my chest eased as the officer backed away from the window. “Step out of the vehicle, Mr. Sutter.”

At first, I thought he was dismissing me. I almost answered him with “thanks.” When his words registered, though, I was suddenly frozen to the spot. “Sorry?” I asked.

“Out of the vehicle.”

My hand felt heavy as I put it on the handle and pulled. The door stuck, so I had to ram my shoulder into it. The officer moved back as it popped open.

I wanted to ask why. I’d just had a little car trouble—there was no reason to make this into a thing. But I didn’t. I was guilty. Not of what he thought, but I’d done a bad thing tonight. If I argued, he might get suspicious and look for more than what he had, which was nothing.

“What’s this about?” I asked, stepping into the dirt. I sounded guilty even to my own ears.

The officer pointed to a spot in front of me. “Go ahead and walk in a straight line for me.”

21

Lake

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

If I let out even a peep, the officer would find me in the back of the truck, take us back to camp, tell Gary and my dad, maybe even arrest Manning—and it’d all be my fault. I’d made Manning bring me along, go for a ride, get in the water.

My heartbeat filled my ears. I didn’t know what was happening. Couldn’t see anything, contorted in the small, dark space. The last I’d heard, Manning had asked why the cop wanted him out of the car.

Maybe everyone was right, and I was just a kid who didn’t consider consequences. I always did the right thing, but tonight? Tonight, I’d sat on the edge of my bed, playing our night at the pool in my head. The good parts, like Manning opening up about his sister and then telling me the story of Altair and Vega. And then what I should’ve done differently when I’d stupidly tried to kiss him. I hadn’t touched him, hadn’t gotten physical enough. Tiffany did that, and I needed to also.

Tonight had been my last chance with Manning.

My last chance to touch him, to make him see me as something more than a girl.

To make him forget Tiffany.

And now we were here, about to get busted, because of me.

Minutes passed like hours. I strained to hear beyond the murmur of voices. I sat bent and twisted so long, my legs tingled. I recognized the bass of Manning’s voice, the only thing that made my heart calm just a little. He wouldn’t let the man find me. He wouldn’t leave me here.

Finally, they got close enough to the window that I could hear. “Only if it won’t inconvenience you,” Manning said, opening the door.

“It’s no trouble,” the officer said. “If it doesn’t work, I’ve got a pal I can wake up to take a look. Or I’ll drive you back up to camp if you like, and you can handle it in the morning.”

Unbidden tears filled my eyes. He wouldn’t leave me. But what if he had to? What would I do—sleep here in the truck in wet clothes? Already I was doing everything in my power not to shiver.

“Let me just . . .” Manning leaned into the truck, and there was a loud, clunky pop out front. “There we go.”

He glanced at me over the divider. I nodded to let him know I was okay, even though I was holding my sobs at bay. He left for a few more minutes, came back, and turned the key in the ignition. The truck tried to start and after a second, shuddered and came to life.

I’d never been so relieved in my life. My limbs went limp.

“Thank fuck,” Manning said under his breath.

“Well, look at that,” the officer said. “Your lucky night.”

“Yes, sir.”

They were both silent a few seconds. I could only see Manning’s head turned away from me. I wanted to scream just to break the tension or look over the edge to see what was happening.

Finally, Manning pulled the door shut. “Thanks for your help,” he said through the window.

“Hey, good luck with training. You get sick of the beach, consider Big Bear. We could always use good guys.”

“Will do. Thanks again, sir.” Manning stared into the rearview mirror. I was too afraid to speak, much less move. After a minute, he waved out the window and began to drive. We were a couple minutes up the road before either of us spoke.

With his one hand on the top of the wheel, he turned onto the unpaved road. I knew because I could barely sit still, the way it bumped and wobbled over potholes and rocks. “You all right?” he asked without looking back.