Page 25 of The Weight of Your Wishes

They laugh—a deep belly laugh. It’s kind of frightening. “Make sure you tell him not to come pick you up. Matter of fact, you should tell him now because you know he’ll be here early.”

They have a good point. “If you let me leave early, you can leave early tomorrow,” I try.

Sky crosses their arms over their chest. “This isn’t going to end well; you know that, right?”

I smile ruefully. “That’s the thing—I don’t want it to.”

I do a few final things to help Sky before meeting up with the group outside. It’s sprinkling a little, only a slight mist as I approach the big, lifted truck.

“Hey, man, I didn’t catch your name earlier,” the blonde dude says. “I’m Jack.”

“I’m Hendrix.”

“Oh, my God! Like Jimi Hendrix?” The cute red head asks. I love when people recognize the name. “Sorry—you probably get that all the time. I’m Lucy.”

Her lips are painted red, and freckles dance on her round cheeks. I can tell she and I will get along great. Jack ushers us into the truck. When he turns it on, the engine revs loudly, rumbling through the cab. A girl who seems like his girlfriend sits in the front next to him, and Lucy and another girl are back here with me. A couple of other guys are in the bed of the truck.

As we pull onto the street, I send a quick text to Grant.

Me:Going out with some friends. Be home later.

My heart thuds rapidly in my chest, adrenaline coursing through me. I’m not actually sure how I’ll get home, but that’s a problem for later. Then I think about my poor, wrecked car, and it reminds me that Jack has definitely been drinking tonight. Shit, I served him each pitcher.

Whatever.

We pull into the one and only gas station in town. He parks on the side of the building for ease, I assume, and hops down from the truck quickly. “Getting beer. You got a preference?” he calls out.

“Nope.”

My phone buzzes in my lap, and I still. It’s Grant. I tentatively send it to voicemail. Man, I am really going to need more liquid courage for this shit. This is going against everything in me, but maybe I want to get a rise out of him. So-fucking-what. I’m just doing what any other twenty-something year old is on a Friday night.

I look out into the dim parking lot. There’s one other car parked at a pump. A guy in slacks and a tucked-in shirt is leaning against it, pumping gas. It strikes me as odd because it’s one in the morning. The glass door swings open, and Jack walks out with a massive case of beer, and then, so does a woman. She has glossy, brunette hair and a flowy pink dress. Her head turns to the side, looking at the truck, andoh, fuck.

It’s Veronica.

My mouth falls open as she keeps walking towards the man in business casual clothes and gives him a very cozy hug and… a kiss. A long kiss. I gasp loudly, but Jack is getting back into the truck, and we’re driving away. Stuck in a state of shock, I crane my neck to watch her as we leave. A heavy, gut-wrenching sadness burrows its way deep inside of me.

How could someone do this to Grant? How could–

I swallow the lump in my throat as a delicate hand lands on top of mine. Lucy’s sweet voice drifts to my ear, “Are you okay?”

I’m not really sure. On one hand, I want to go tell him so he can get rid of her. He deserves to know about whatever this is that’s going on behind his back. Nasty anger swirls in my chest, and my nostrils flare. Problem is, he won’t believe me. Especially not after tonight. I don’t even have proof; I could’ve taken a picture on my phone, but I just froze. I should’ve hopped out of the truck and told her to her face that I saw everything.

I exhale a deep sigh, trying to calm down.

“Hendrix?”

I glance over at her, locking onto her green doe eyes. “I’m okay. Sorry. Thought I saw someone I knew.”

She nods slowly. I turn my palm up and hold her hand, giving her a smile I don’t really feel. Maybe if I drink enough tonight, I can forget what I saw so it doesn’t eat away at my consciousness.

After a few more minutes, we turn into a dirt clearing and park. We all hop out, and I take a look around. Can’t see very much through the darkness, but we approach a yellow gate that very clearly reads, “DO NOT ENTER”.

“It’s only prohibited because they’ve been doing construction around here. Maybe paving a new road back here or something. Who fucking knows,” Jack says, sounding annoyed.

“They do that often?” I ask.

Another dude, whose name I haven’t learned yet, chimes in as he hands me a beer. “Yeah, man. More and more every year. Soon enough, this town will be all concrete.”

---