HIM
dad's truck; it's super dusty in here. I haven't been in this truck for a long time. It's a single cab 1996 Ford F150, and a Baja saddle blanket covers the seat. It reminds me of those pullover ponchos from the nineties that everyone had to have.It starts right up with a little cough before the rumble, over half a tank of gas is still in her. Of course, my dad always told me never to leave a vehicle sit with under half a tank or ever let your tank go under a half a tank in the winter. I push the cassette in as I make my way to town. A song comes blaring across the speakers, East Bound and Down. What are the odds that it's this song? I hit eject and look at the tape and see that it's Jerry Reed's greatest hits.
I turn on the radio to try and drown out my thoughts of Luke and my urge to want to call him for the umpteenth time since he left Ris's father's study. I drift off, trying to think of places he may have gone if he hadn't come back here. Part of me wants to drive out to his house, but I'm not in the mood to have to explain shit to Jason.
I pull into the gas station and up to one of the pumps. I decide to call Luke before I get out of my dad's truck-straight to voicemail. What the hell? Maybe his phone is dead? I doubt it; it can't be since he has a charger in both of his vehicles. He must not want to talk to me or anyone and wants to be left alone. I'm worried about him. I know what he found out was a lot to handle, but he could at least tell me or someone that he's okay.
I get out of the truck and pump two large gas cans full of gas. I load them into the bed of my dad's truck, then head inside to pay, and grab some oil. As I walk down the aisle with the oil, I can hear an annoying screechy voice. I can recognize it from anywhere; it's Bridget. Why does she have to be working today? I'm not in the mood for her bitchy attitude right now.
I walk up to the counter and set down four bottles of two-stroke oil. Bridget gives me a glare and a quick look over.
"Just the oil?" she asks, quite snooty.
"And the gas on pump three," I mumble.
She gives me a side-eye as she rings me up. I so desperately want to roll my eyes and flick her off, but I keep my cool. As she bags my oil, she eyeballs me again, and I can't bite my tongue any longer.
"What?" I let out rudely.
She looks at me, then adjusts all her weight to one leg and pops out her hip with attitude. She pops a bubble with her gum and says in the bitchiest tone that I've ever heard come out her mouth,
"How's Luke?"
Irritated by our pointless little discord, a tiny ounce of immaturity releases from my lips.
"Wouldn't you like to know," I hiss.
I glare at her, grab my bag of oil, and walk out of the gas station. Ugh, that nosey slut knows how to get under my skin. I hop inside my dad's truck and toss the bag of oil to the floor on the passenger side. I grip tightly to the steering wheel as I drive away. Settle down, Ali, she's not worth getting all riled up over. I take a deep breath, roll down the window, and turn up the music on the radio.
I wonder if Bridget has had any contact with Luke in the last forty-eight hours. I'm sure if she had, she'd have rubbed it in my face just then.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Mowing the lawn while jamming out to your favorite tunes has its therapeutic qualities. Granted, using a rider makes it easier to reach and fulfill those qualities, but none the less, it's still relaxing. The station I have playing on Pandora must know that I am mowing because I've only to skip songs twice during my two-and-a-half-hour mow session.
I return the rider and the push mower to the shed then grab the weed wacker. This contraption scares the shit out of me. Those whips are the least bit forgiving when they connect with skin. My music goes mute as the sound of my ring tone travels through my earbuds. I grab for my phone, hoping it's Luke, but it's only Jason. I let it go to voicemail. My phone has buzzed a few times with messages from Ris and one from Troy, begging me to call him. I don't feel like discussing what he may or may not have heard about what happened between me and his so-called best friend, Brady.
I finish all the yard work as the sun is starting to set. I'm glad my dad had planted some perennials, so there is some color and beauty around the house. I should ask Gladys if she'd like to come over and help me plant flowers in my dad's hanging pots off the deck. I know she loves her flowers.
I go into the house, straight up to the bathroom to remove my sweat-soaked clothes. My feet are stained green. I should've worn some sneakers but am not sure if I have an old pair here. I will have to check for next time. I step into the shower; the hot water burns my arms and shoulders. I must have gotten a little sunburnt while mowing; I didn't even think to put sunscreen on. I turn the dial back a tad, to give the unforgiving sting a breather. The lukewarm droplets hit my skin, allowing me to relax some and take my mind from everything jumbled inside.
I step out of the shower and check my shoulders. They're burnt alright, along with my nose, tops of my ears, arms, and thighs. Lucky me, I