Page 17 of One Bad Idea
I frowned in confusion. "Yourroom?"
"Just for last night," she clarified. "But it'll give us someplace to talk." She reached for my hand and gave it a gentle tug. "Now, come on."
Maybe it was exhaustion. Or maybe it was stupidity. Either way, I let her lead me down the hall, and then, in the private bedroom, proceeded to make her feel awful – even though that had never been my intention.
Chapter 6
Sitting in the small armchair beside the bed, I tried to laugh. "But then, I remembered Stuart's extra car key – the one he keeps hidden under his bumper." I hesitated. "Wait, does that make it atruckkey? It probably does, right?"
Yes, Iwasrambling.
From nerves? Or lack of sleep?
Probably both.
Cassidy, who was sitting on the edge of bed, stared at me in obvious horror. "Wait, are you staying you took it without permission?"
I hesitated. "The key?"
"No," she said. "The truck."
"Well, yeah." I forced a shrug. "I had the key, so..." I let my words trail off, like this should explain everything.
Apparently not.
Cassidy was still staring. "Youstoleit?"
"No. I borrowed it, just like I told you."
Cassidy paled, looking like the pancakes weren't sitting so well.
Damn it.I'd meant for the story to be funny, not worrisome. Oh sure, it hadn't felt funny at the time, but surely we'd look backsomedayand laugh, right?
I just prayed I wouldn't be laughing from some jail cell in Tennessee.
What Cassidydidn'tknow was that I'd omitted the most concerning details, including all of the messages that I'd received from my ex, promising to send the police out after me.
Like he knew them personally or something.
Then again, his brother-in-lawwasa deputy sheriff in Memphis, so maybe Stuart reallydidhave connections.
But I couldn't think about that now.
Now, the most important thing was returning the vehicle to Stuart's driveway – and fast. And then, I'd just have to smooth everything over, that's all.
It shouldn’t betoohard. After all, Stuart had borrowedmyvehicle plenty of times without permission. In contrast, this was the first time I'd ever done it to him.
Of course, my timing could've been a teeny bit better, considering that, unlike him, I'd done the borrowingafterour horrendous breakup.
To Cassidy, I mumbled, "Hey, I left a note."
She gave a weak laugh. "Well, that's good. What did it say? 'I'm taking your vintage truck to Florida'?"
No. It hadn't.In truth, the note had been a bit short on details, mostly because I hadn't wanted him to flip out.
It hadn't worked, and I had the text messages to prove it. I also had a whole bunch of voicemails, which I'd listened to at that truck stop in Alabama. I'd even called him back and promised that I'd return the truck tomorrow.
From there, the conversation had gone decidedly downhill, especially when he informed me that I'd be dealing with the police, not him, in the future. True to his word, I hadn't heard from him since.
