Perfect Regret (Bad Rep #2)(34)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

Well argue with him I would.

“You can’t do that. That’s just ridiculous. You’re in the middle of a gig. You and me…well, we’re not even friends. I can’t expect you to drive me to Maryland in the middle of the night,” I said stupidly, really not grasping why he would offer such a thing. It made absolutely no sense at all. And my brain was so bogged down with a million other worries that this new complication in the ever-evolving Garrett and Riley saga was the last thing I had the patience for.

Garrett rolled his eyes. Yes, he actually rolled his eyes at me. “Stop it, Riley. We may not be ‘friends’ but that doesn’t mean I can stand here and watch you drive off knowing what you have to face when you get there. Knowing how you’ll be going over every awful scenario in your head for the entire drive. Trying to prepare yourself for the worst but terrified to expect the best,” his voice was strained and his eyes became glassy. He was speaking from experience. And my heart, already breaking, broke a little bit more at the pain on his face.

“So let me do this for you. Please,” he said gently. And I was too tired to put up any further resistance. I only nodded and went to drop my keys in his waiting palm. Then I hesitated.

“You haven’t been drinking or smoking have you? Because I promised my mom I would get there in one piece,” I said seriously, narrowing my eyes.

Garrett wrapped his fingers around my hand that held the keys. His gaze was unwavering as he answered me. “I would never risk your life like that. I would rather die then get behind the wheel under the influence. Trust me when I say you have nothing to worry about where that is concerned.” His words were flinty hard and there was more to his staunch testament than I knew. But I couldn’t think about it.

Right now I needed to get to Maryland.

“And the gig?” I asked, wanting to give him one last chance to bow out of from knight in shining armor duty.

Garrett peeled my fingers apart and took my keys, nudging me through the kitchen doors so I could get my purse and jacket.

“Fuck the gig. Let’s get you to your dad,” he said resolutely. And if I could have, I would have smiled.

13

The first hour into the drive passed with minimal conversation. It was already almost one in the morning. I was tired. I was heartsick. And I was almost delusional with worry. Garrett didn’t attempt to pull me into meaningless chatter and for that I was grateful. I didn’t have it in me to talk about the f**king weather or what I thought of the Greenhouse Effect.

I had gone to the apartment, packed up the bare essentials, sent a text to Maysie and then climbed into my car, with Garrett behind the wheel. It was a testament to how out of whack I was that I permitted anyone, besides myself and Maysie to drive my beloved Volvo. It was almost fifteen years old; the rust colored paint chipped and was slowly disappearing. I only had a tape deck and a radio that picked up just one or two stations. But I had bought the clunker with my own money. It was completely and totally mine and because of that I was over the top possessive about it.

But Garrett treated it as smoothly as though he were driving a Mercedes and for that he gained about a thousand cool points.

Somewhere outside of Richmond, I broke the silence. Because I was going crazy with my own thoughts. “Maysie told me you guys were going on tour again,” I said, glancing at him out of my peripheral.

Garrett didn’t take his eyes off the road, but I saw the satisfied smile dance on his lips. “Yeah. Josh, Mitch’s cousin who helped us set up the tour over the summer has us lined up to for a cross-country promotional thing. He’s been slinging out our demo to a bunch of radio stations and a few of the smaller ones have started putting us into rotation. It’s all for the exposure, you know,” Garrett explained and despite the knots in my gut, I couldn’t help but be taken aback by the excitement on his face. I couldn’t recall a time he ever seemed pumped about anything.

Even when Garrett played music, he oozed this laid back, unconcerned vibe. As though he would do the same thing in his sleep. So seeing this side to him, a side that showed enthusiasm and…well…purpose, was startling. And even in my confused mind, I could admit it was appealing.

The truth was I was beginning to learn there was a lot appealing about the man sitting beside me.

“Wow, that’s awesome,” I said tiredly. I meant it, really, but Garrett looked at me warily, as though looking for the punch line.

“Thanks,” he said and then fell silent. And this time, the quiet between us was uneasy.

“I really do appreciate you taking me tonight. You were right, I would never have been able to drive myself,” I said. Garrett’s eyes were once again trained on the road and I noticed the tightening of his jaw, as though he were uncomfortable with my gratitude. Yeah, I get that he hadn’t seen a whole lot of the nice, genial Riley Walker. I was so accustomed to being sarcastic and cutting that genuine pleasantness was like a sucker punch to the jaw. It left you wondering where the hell the fist came from.

“Like I said, I couldn’t let you drive all the way home in the state you’re in,” he said shortly.

“You seem to speak from some kind of experience,” I hedged, not knowing how my dig for information would be greeted.

Garrett started to fiddle with my radio, trying to find some music to fill the awkward tension that took over the interior of my car. “Yeah, well, I’ve been there. I get it,” he explained without really explaining anything at all.

I took in his sloppy disheveled appearance. His blue, button down shirt gaped open, his muscular chest on proud display. His shoulder length hair was more than a little wild and I was hit with a sudden surge of memory. I remember how it felt that first night to put run my fingers through it. I saw with sudden clarity the way his face looked as he hovered above me, his hair hanging down around his face. Oh God, I finally remembered the aching tenderness in his eyes as he kissed every inch of my face.

I shook my head, ridding myself of those unwanted memories. “Can you tell me how you get it?” I asked carefully. Garrett gave up on trying to find anything on the radio and turned it off with a frustrated flick of his fingers.

He let out a loud and noisy sigh. The hand that came up to push his hair back off of his face shook slightly. “I lost both of my parents when I was a senior in high school. I remember the call that told me they were gone. It was like my world stopped and I couldn’t understand how I could keep going without them,” he said gruffly. He cleared his throat as though to dislodge the lump in his throat.