Page 110 of Escaping Our Reality

“Well, it’s supposed to be different for girls. There has to be a reason you don’t wanna go.”

She makes a big show of standing up and stoking the fire.

“Lulu, do you plan on telling me the reason you don’t wanna go to your prom?

“No.”

“Well, I suggest you quickly modify your plans, then.”

She stiffens her back and stares at me, planting her hands firmly on her hips. “Fine. The school has a stupid rule that noone over the age of twenty can attend the prom. Last time I looked at your license, that rules you out.”

Oh.

She scowls, “And so help me, Ryland Joseph Crutchfield, if you say I should go with someone else, I will beat you to a pulp. The name Hudson Plott better never leave your lips.”

I scoff. “Fuck no. I’d rather send you on a date with the weird-looking guy from the taco restaurant. The guy with the one eyebrow and the forked tongue.” At least that gets a smile out of her. “Seriously, why didn’t you just tell me about the prom and the age limit?”

She shrugs. “It wasn’t important. It didn’t have you there. So, it wasn’t important.”

Inwardly I groan. Shit. Looks like I’m throwing a prom Saturday night.

Chapter 45

CRUTCH

“I’m glad things went well with Caleb. I know it must hurt to see him leave. You were really close to him for a long time.”

She swings her legs back and forth, sitting on the back of my tailgate in the warm, morning sun. We just visited my grandma, so we’re sitting in the parking lot of the nursing home before going our separate ways for the day. I position myself between her legs, running my hands across the tanned, smooth skin of her thighs.

“He’s such a great guy. I did love him. I mean, I just knew he would be in my life forever, you know? My brother. Part of my family. He’s still devastated over Carrie. He’s tired of being alone, but he’s too scared to date someone else. He feels like he’s cheating on Carrie. I don’t know how to help him through that. Moving to Atlanta will be the best thing for him. New city. New job.” She squints into the sun. “He had some of her clothes. Makeup. Extra cell phone charger. School notebooks. I haven’t gone through it all yet, but it didn’t seem like anything that would give me any further clues as to what happened.”

“How’d your last meeting with Marcum go?”

She shrugs. “You know how it went—the same as always. I sit there and stare at the pictures, thinking something’s gonna reach out and slap me upside the head, mocking me for missing it for so long. The only thing that’s ever caught my eye was that her mint container was missing. But, like you and me talked about, she could’ve broken it and thrown it away and just not gotten a new one yet. Heck, maybe she was taking the drugs sofast before her disappearance, there wasn’t even a need to hide them in her mint container. Maybe she sold or took everything the second she got her hands on it.” She sighs so deeply she hurts her chest. I watch as she gives her sternum a quick rub. It’s the same thing she did when she had a panic attack—or near panic attack—at the charity brunch when her parents basically announced Carrie’s death to the world. “And there’s nothing new on his end, especially since we decided to wait about submitting more evidence from her car for further testing. I mean, DNA testing is progressing so freakin’ quick, year after year. I don’t wanna mess up what evidence we do have if something better is just around the corner, you know?”

Lulu knows way more about forensics than me so I just nod in silent agreement. Besides, despite my desire that she find out the truth about her sister, I’m more concerned with keeping her safe… from Trey and everyone in his world. I know she hasn’t mentioned the drugs to Marcum or any of the other detectives yet. How do I know? Because I’m fairly certain one of their first stops would have been to me. To ask me what I know about my brother, about the drugs, and about the gas station. And in spite of the guilt that’s slowly eating away at my soul—the guilt I have for asking her to keep this information to herself—I wouldn’t change a thing.

Why? Because four days ago, one of Trey’s pushers went to the emergency room with two broken legs and a fractured skull. The “official” story is he fell off his roof when cleaning out the gutters. The “unofficial” word on the street is that he owed Trey some money. Apparently, Trey felt like beating the man within an inch of his life was the appropriate recompense. And the thing that worries me even more…this guy wasn’t some lowlife from my side of the county. This guy has a wife and three kids and works in some accounting office. I mean, what the fuck. The guy wears a tie and goes to parent-teacher meetings.

I tuck a piece of bronzed hair behind her ear, quickly deciding to change the subject and bury the burning need to scoop her in my arms and run away from this whole shitty mess. “I’m sorry we can’t spend the day together.”

“Don’t worry about it. Doesn’t absence make the heart grow fonder?”

I grumble. “More like the balls grow bluer.”

She bursts out laughing. “Forty hours doesn’t constitute that much of a dry spell.”

I grab her waist with my hands, squeezing tightly. Bending down, my hot breath rolls across the shell of her ear. “Your tight walls around me is heaven on earth.Fourhours constitutes a dry spell.”

She shivers. She blushes. But because she’s My Lulu, she doesn’t shy away. She stares deeply into my eyes. “Maybe I’m not that tight. Maybe you’re just that big.”

My dick jumps. I’m in agony. Kill me now.

She laughs, noticing my pain. Little minx.

She tries to get us back on topic. “Besides, you’re right. Jackson, Mississippi, is too far for Harlan to drive on his own. I’m just glad y’all found the part you were looking for.”

White lie. Hopefully, she’ll forgive me.

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