Page 30 of Stop and Seek
No.
A headliner?
Yeah, that was it.
Ethan was probably curled up in bed with Carrie, talking about mundane, daily life shit.
Rachel would be cozied up with a mug of tea, her giant dog Brownie, and a marathon of soap operas.
And Alyssa? Running wild with Max, Decker, and whatever other crazies they dug up.
Where did that leave him?
“Watching some gray shit that’s gonna fall,” he mumbled, as ifthatwas going to help.
He couldn’t roll his eyes hard enough.
Edgy fucking pityparty.Shut up.
At least the air conditioner worked again and—for once—his gas tank wasn’t stuck on E.
Small victories.
Straightening his seat, he dug the baggie out of his hoodie pocket. Whatever was inside smelled a hell of a lot like cinnamon—too strong. Alyssa had probably dumped the capsules and replaced them with something else.
There were two brown pills. Two.
Was he supposed to take both?
One now, one later?
Shrugging, he popped one and washed it down with hot, plastic-tasting water from the bottle that had been rolling around under the passenger seat for days.
Didn’t taste like anything.
Nothing kicks in right away. Alyssa is trying to scare me.
He craned his head out the window. The clouds churned low and heavy above the lot. A single drop of rain tapped the glass. Then another. Then nothing.
If it stayed like this, he could make it to Cleveland in no time.
Maybe Uber home afterward if he was too shitfaced. He’d pick up the car after the game was over.
No problem.
One win.
That’s all he needed tonight.
Justone thingto go right.
Well, he wasn’twrong.
He wasn’trighteither.
He fell somewhere in the middle ofoopsandshit.
The mugginess cracked open the second he pulled onto I-90, and the rain came down in fucking sheets. Water hammered the windshield so hard it sounded like static turned all the way up. His wipers squeaked and slapped, struggling to keep up, dragging long streaks across the glass.
