I kept my phone off to save the battery. I didn’t have a charger on me, so the last thing I wanted was to be without a phone as I got into town and needed a ride. I picked up a few snacks from a vending machine at one of the stops, but eating those hardly moved the clock at all. I tried staring out the window for awhile but the scenery didn’t have the same effect on me as it did before driving eighty in a convertible down the interstate.
I continued to doze in and out of consciousness as the hours passed. I was unaware of the amount of time that had gone by with my eyes closed, but thoughts of Reid and my wild imagination were enough to make me feel like the continuous resting was worth my while.
During my layover in Chicago, I at least found some magazines to browse while I waited for four hours for the next bus. I made small talk with other passengers, but I was checked out of the conversation. My ribs ached from my awkward upright sleeping posture and my head started to throb again. All I really wanted was a shower and a real bed.
The total bus ride from Nebraska to Michigan took almost twenty hours with all of the stops and the waiting. I was scheduled to get in around three in the morning, and according to Reid, it was still about a forty-five minute drive from there. About fifteen minutes before my bus arrived, Reid texted me to let me know he was already at the station, waiting for me. I spent a few minutes in the dimly lit single bathroom stall of the bus, trying to at least look somewhat put together. Although that was one of the things I loved about Reid - he’d obviously seen me at my absolute worst, and that never changed his mind.
As the bus pulled into the station, I gazed out the window. Sure enough, leaning casually against the yellow GTO, Reid stood there in his dark jeans and a thin light blue sweatshirt. It hadn’t even been two full days without him yet, but I missed him tremendously. He somehow looked even more handsome to me than any other time I stared at him.
I made my way off the bus with just the one small bag clutched in my good, unwrapped hand, and Reid moved towards me before I even made it up to the curb. He gently grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me with more passion and purpose than he ever had before.
Our words were temporarily lost as we stood there, our lips pressed up against each other. I knew in that moment that I didn’t want a single day to pass me by without that feeling; the feeling of his firm hands touching me - his mouth on mine - the feeling of us just being together.
He slowly moved his head back from mine, staring at me with the most amazing, intense eyes. My entire body felt on fire.
“I know I already asked you,” he said softly. “And I swear you said yes. But I’m going to ask you one more time.” He gently kissed me again. “Do you want to run away with me?” Those were the first words he ever said aloud to me. “Your answer has to be the truest words you’ve ever spoken. You have to feel it. You have to know your answer is right.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Good,” he replied, kissing me once again. “But we’re not actually running away. I’m taking you home.” He grabbed my hand and it felt electric. The warmth of his skin pulsated through me, and I longed so badly to be lying next to him, completely intertwined. All from that touch.
He grabbed my bag and put it in the trunk. Like so many times before, we climbed into the car, fastening our seatbelts for yet another adventure together. He reached for his phone to turn on some music.
“Let me guess… Our road trip anthem?” I questioned with my coy smile.
“Not tonight,” he replied, smiling back at me. “This is a night for a love song.” He pushed a button on his phone and the music began.
I laughed softly as soon as I realized it was just a slower, stripped down version of “The Outsiders” song we blasted on so many occasions. He quietly sang the words to me as we headed out on the road. He was right - it definitely felt like a love song now.
I stared out the window at my new surroundings. It was dark out, but the shadows of thick trees reminded me just how far away I was from the desert.
Every time I stared out the passenger seat of my mom’s car, I felt apprehensive about what kind of new life waited for me as soon as the engine shut off. I felt none of that now. I no longer felt scared or nervous of what was to come. I knew this boy beside me was enough to quell any uncertainties I had. Most importantly, I knew he was enough to make sense out of all the other chaos in my life.
As we drove, he told me about the rest of his road trip with Uncle Buck. They were able to make the last two stops he had planned according to Preston’s letter. The only thing he had left to do was swim out to the boat dock at the cottage under the Fourth of July fireworks, which would happen late tonight. Although I wondered how he would swim with his injuries. He had to still be in a lot of pain.
“Are you sure you’re feeling better? I’m surprised you’re driving,” I admitted.
“I wouldn’t necessarily say I feel great,” he replied, “but somehow now, with you, nothing hurts quite as bad.”
He smiled in my direction and it warmed me, just like it had so many times before. He was right. I had been so uncomfortable since I’d left the hospital, but here in his car, I didn’t notice my pain once.
“So tomorrow, well technically later today,” he began, “if it’s not too overwhelming for you, my family has a big Fourth of July cookout on the beach.” We exited the highway as he spoke.
“That sounds perfect,” I said dreamily as we drove through a small downtown area filled with ice cream shops, art galleries, and beach rental equipment stores. The buildings were mostly dark since everything was closed this time of night, or early morning I should say, but they still looked charming nonetheless.
We finally pulled down a narrow dirt drive, and I was excited to be so close to a warm bed. I was exhausted. Reid pulled the car up in front of a massive white house. There was a huge fountain in the middle of the circular drive and pristine, well-lit landscaping. Cascading flowers surrounded a beautiful stone walkway that led to a large double front door. The two story house had a sprawling wrap-around porch, and the property itself looked unending. This was not the place Reid spoke about.
“Where’s the cottage?” I asked, completely confused as to why Reid was getting out of the car in front of this place.
“This is it. This is my family’s cottage,” he replied, seemingly caught off guard by my confusion.
“This is a mansion. This is not in any way something that can be called a cottage,” I said adamantly. “Cottages are tiny, made out of old wood. Dust everywhere. Squeaky screen doors.” I stepped out of the car, looking up at the massive structure in front of me. “This is not a cottage,” I repeated under my breath, shaking my head.
“Well up here around the lake that’s what they’re called,” he explained, walking around the car. He grabbed my hand and gently squeezed it. “Welcome home.” He kissed my forehead and I thought I would have to be thrown over his shoulder. My feet were still in disbelief and I didn’t want to budge.
“If it makes you feel better, we’re in the pool house,” he said, guiding me around the backside of the house. “It’s not exactly dusty, but it’s a lot smaller. I could probably get the screen door to squeak a little if I mess with the hinges,” he teased.
We made our way to the back of the house. The water in the large rectangular pool glowed underneath the soft light of the moon. Perfectly spaced landscape lights illuminated a covered patio area complete with an outdoor kitchen. My first thought was that it looked like a dream - but honestly no dream I ever had looked this picturesque. It was like a fancy photo straight out of a vacation magazine.
“This is us,” he said, pointing towards a quaint white building with a grey shingled roof. The windows had vibrant flower boxes and it looked like a perfect small house. Of course by ‘small’ I imagined it was still two or three times bigger than my apartment. But compared to the ginormous house it faced, it looked like a far more moderate, reasonable place. I still couldn’t imagine actually livi
ng here though. I didn’t think I would ever be comfortable with that.
Reid set down my bag and reached his hand up to my face, gently cupping it.
“I’m glad you came back to me,” he said softly. I leaned in and kissed him, and within a minute we were pressed up against the front door of the pool house, hungrily kissing one another like it had been so much longer since we’d last seen each other. “Remember our first night together?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
Of course I did. I replayed it in my mind a thousand times. The rain. The Louboutins. Our first kiss against the door of the motel.
He gently scooped me up in his strong arms and opened the door, carrying me inside. He laid me down in softness, with billowing white blankets surrounding us.
“I love you, Cassidy Jones.”
He was right.
Those words were our beginning.
CHAPTER 25
I awoke to the sound of water pouring down in a nearby shower. I blinked twice, trying to fully take in my surroundings.
The pool house was immaculate. White walls and white curtains met with light grey wood floors. The high vaulted ceilings made everything look so open. There was a quaint living room area with a TV, couch, an oversized chair - all decorated like a picture in a magazine. The kitchen had grey-speckled granite looking countertops and beautiful distressed white cabinets. The bedroom had giant French doors and a large window facing a blue sparkling pool. It looked like a kind of paradise I’d only seen before on TV.
The shower water shut off and a minute later Reid walked out in nothing but a fluffy white towel. I’d seen him this way before - at the Stay-the-Nite motel before we’d started our road trip - at Uncle Buck’s place. But the sight of him right in front of me with his firm chest and wet, messy hair - it still made me miss taking a breath.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said with a sly smile.
I glanced over at the clock, surprised to see it read eleven-thirty.
“I can’t believe I slept in so long,” I replied, sitting up. The soft sheets were still wrapped around my body and I felt like I was sitting in the middle of someone else’s dream. Except the bruises and marks on Reid’s torso from the accident - that was a quick reminder of our true reality.
“The barbeque is at one,” he explained. “I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone.” He gently leaned down and kissed me softly.
“How are you going to explain me?” I teased. “I’m some stranger you found off the highway at a diner. And now here I am in a new state with fractured ribs and no clothes to wear. I’m a mess. It’s going to look like you violently kidnapped me.” I held up my wrist, still wrapped up in the bandage from the hospital.
“How are you actually feeling?” he questioned, changing the subject. “Do you feel like you need some of your pain meds? We’ll probably have to change the dressing on your hand today.”
“Oh, the pain meds,” I said, dreading this conversation. “There’s something I should probably tell you about that.”
“What?” he said curiously.
“I kind of did something really horrible and really illegal,” I said with a grimace. “But look, I still have your check,” I added quickly, as if that made anything better. I pulled the folded piece of paper out of my bag lying beside the bed. I held it out to him with a reluctant shrug.
“What exactly did you do? What happened to using the check for the bus ticket?” he said curiously.
“Well I tried, and the cashier wouldn’t let me. I didn’t know what else to do,” I stated, biting my lip. “It’s really horrible. Probably the worst thing I’ve ever done. Aside from you know, that whole assault charge I had with the pickup truck and all that.” I looked at the ground, uneasy to even be talking about it.
“What happened?” he asked again, sitting down next to me on the bed. “You’re here and you’re okay. How bad could it be?”
“I became a drug dealer,” I said nervously. “I mean I didn’t have an onslaught of customers or anything, I wasn’t like, pushing them on people,” I explained, trying to lessen the horribleness of my deed. “But I didn’t have the money for the bus, and by the time the banks opened, the next bus was hours later. I just did it on a whim. It was stupid.”
“You sold your pain pills?” he said with a smirk. “And that’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“I feel really awful about it,” I replied honestly. “The whole bus ride I just kept thinking about how stupid that was. I was thinking about how I was responsible for the bad things that would happen from those in the wrong hands. I know, it was so wrong. I just… reacted.”
“Let it go,” he said calmly. “You really beat yourself up a lot, you know that?” He kissed me softly once again, as if to reassure me that everything was in fact okay.
“That was an actual crime,” I squeaked. I couldn’t help but feel some guilt over it. “I don’t do well with feelings of remorse. I smashed your car, your stuff, you, and then I sold drugs… It’s like I’m in some downward spiral.”
“Relax,” he said with a laugh. “No one is judging you for those things. No one is blaming you for anything. You have to just let them go.” He stared right into my eyes as he said it, and his sincere tone was a relief to the weight I felt like I was carrying. “I think I have something that will cheer you up,” he stated with another mischievous smirk on his face. “There’s a suitcase over there for you.” He pointed to a large black bag sitting across the room.
I studied it for a moment. It definitely wasn’t mine from back home. All my mom and I ever used to move around were boxes and worn duffle bags. I definitely didn’t own a fancy black suitcase.
Then it hit me.
“Why does that look exactly like the bag from that seedy motel we stayed in the first night?” I asked dumbfounded, trying to piece it together. “Tell me that’s not the same bag.”
Reid walked over to it and unzipped the suitcase, pulling out the Louboutins I wore that night, along with a white envelope. He set both items down on the bed right in front of me. I grabbed the envelope, quickly realizing there was a huge stack of money in it.
“The downward spiral continues,” I said dramatically, throwing up my hands. “What did you do? I’m already a criminal. This makes everything so much worse,” I moaned. “That’s not our bag.”
“That’s what I told the manager of the motel when he called me,” he replied with a laugh. “The guy didn’t believe me. He said the room we stayed in had been renovated or updated or something right before we stayed there. There were some plumbing issues with the bathroom and the room was unoccupied for over a month. He was adamant that it couldn’t possibly belong to anyone else.”
I was completely confused. That didn’t seem possible.
“And to make matters worse, he saw you wearing the shoes. So he didn’t believe me that I had no knowledge of the bag,” Reid further explained.
“So what, they just sent you the bag because I ‘borrowed’ some shoes that weren’t mine?” I said, still caught off guard by the misunderstanding. “There’s a lot of money in this envelope, Reid,” I said, running my fingers through the bills. “All of a sudden this feels way worse than drug dealing.”
“I know, it’s bizarre,” he said with a laugh. “The guy basically called me a liar. He said he didn’t know what I was trying to pull by ditching the bag in the room, but their property owner needed it to be shipped back to the last room occupants. There was no record of anyone else staying in that room other than us, so the guy said he legally had to mail it out because they weren’t allowed to keep it once someone had identified the contents of the bag. I swear I told him everything. He said he had no choice. It arrived here a couple days ago.”
I looked inside the envelope again, and I’d never loved presidential faces more than I did at the moment. But somehow it still felt wrong since it wasn’t our money.
“I just feel like there’s something we should do about it,” I said hon
estly, desperately seeking a clear conscious for at least one thing in my life. “Maybe there’s a way we can find who owns it?”
“I scoured the bag, there’s no identification in it whatsoever. And the motel obviously doesn’t have any other leads, given that they were trying to tell me it was impossible for it to belong to anyone else.” He shrugged his shoulders at me. “I know, it’s weird. But I honestly don’t know how we would ever find the real owners.”
“So what, it’s all ours by default? We just get to keep the money?” I said, still a bit in shock by the whole thing. “There are thousands of dollars in here.”
“A little over seven thousand to be exact,” he corrected me with a smile. “Just think of it as our good karma for not being dishonest and taking it in the first place. We’re still those good, honest people - we just don’t have any more options to do the right thing.”
He did have a point. Not about the fact that I was good and honest - I felt the opposite of that in the last twenty-four hours - but we definitely didn’t have many options to find the rightful owner of the bag. It’s not like we could just advertise that we’d found thousands of dollars in cash and designer clothes. I bet a disappointing number of individuals would dishonestly claim them as their own, and then we’d really be in a bad situation.
“I love your honestly and your good heart,” he said sincerely. “Other than your brief time as a drug lord, but I can move past that. But your honesty is one of the things that intrigued me about you from the first day we spent together. But maybe there’s just a point in everyone’s life where you’re holding a large, unmarked stack of hundred dollar bills and you just need to spend them.” His mouth turned up into a smile, causing me to do the same. “You don’t even own any underwear or a swimsuit for heaven’s sake. This is the beach,” he said, pointing excitedly out the windows. “I think any true owner of Louboutins would sympathize here and they’d wish that for you.”
I laughed and slapped his arm playfully. He was right - it was a little ironic that I was sleeping in a fancy pool house and I didn’t even have a bathing suit. Maybe I could add that to my list of crimes today.
Ten Seconds of Crazy Page 20
