Page 105 of Seale the Deal

Is that what we’re doing? I don’t fucking know anymore. I know I needed to kiss her in that elevator, and I’ve spent every second since thinking about doing it again. As she stands there looking at me, waiting for an answer, the thing I know deeper than anything else is that pretending this is only an act feels like a lie.

My lips part, the answer on the tip of my tongue, but then Remi appears at my side.

You’re taking her home? she whines.

The moment is gone, and even through her alcohol haze, I catch the disappointment on Wrenley’s face when she realizes she isn’t getting an answer. I feel bad, but maybe that’s for the best. She deserves an answer when she’s sober enough to remember every word of it, and I need to be sure of what I’m going to say.

Instead, I turn my attention to my sister. And you. Come on.

We head for the door and push out into the cold night air, Wrenley still grumbling the entire way across the parking lot. Despite her complaints, she doesn’t wander off or argue when I open the passenger door and close it behind her. She stays quiet as I get into the driver’s seat and Remi climbs into the back. All she does is buckle her seat belt and stare out the window like she’s been deeply wronged by everyone around her.

We drive in silence to Remi’s house, though Remi seemingly gets a second wind, deciding we need to keep the party going and get more alcohol. I firmly decline on behalf of everyone in the vehicle. These women need water and a bed.

When we arrive at Remi’s house, she squeezes Wrenley’s shoulder in goodbye and thanks me for the ride. I wait until she’s inside before reversing out of her driveway.

I feel sick, Wrenley mutters, rolling her window down.

We’ll be home soon.

Can we just drive for a bit? The fresh air helps.

I nod and turn in the opposite direction of the house. She hums quietly, head resting on the seat. I think about turning on the radio but decide against it. I’ll take the silence. At least I’m with her and she’s safe.

Ruger?

Hm?

I think I’m going to throw up.

Shit.

I scan ahead and spot the turnoff for an old rock quarry. I gun it, pull in, and stop in the trees. She’s out of the truck before I’m fully parked.

I follow, but she waves me off. Go away.

I can’t leave you like this.

Go! she yells so loud a bird shoots out of a nearby tree.

I rub my hand over my face and blow out a breath, then retreat to the truck. Leaning forward, I rest my arms across the steering wheel and my forehead on top of them.

A few minutes later, the passenger door opens. I lift my head as Wrenley climbs into the truck and closes the door.

Feel better?

A little.

I nod. Good.

This is where I should start the truck and head home, but I don’t. Wrenley continues to stare through the windshield, absently picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her jacket. The fight in her seems to have drained somewhere between challenging me at the bar and vomiting behind a tree. Now she just looks tired, maybe even a little sad.

A part of me wants to ask what she’s thinking about. Another part knows better. She’s been drinking, and I know that anything she says tonight is going to come with an asterisk beside it. What I need, what we both need, is clear conversation, not a drunken confession she’ll barely remember tomorrow.

We should—

Why did you kiss me? she interrupts.

Well, fuck.