Drake ✔️

Chapter 65

Shay

I stand next to my car in the airport lot, nervously wringing my hands together as I keep an eye out for Hunter. I have no idea what possessed him to randomly get on a plane to North Bridge today, but whatever the reason for his impromptu visit, I just know it can't be good. 

I have a bad feeling in my gut, and if all this shit with Alisha has taught me anything, it's that I should trust my gut. 

When Hunter finally steps outside, my stomach rolls and I swear I can feel nausea threatening to creep it's way up my throat. He looks bad. Real bad. Like, worse than he looked at the funeral. And I can feel my phone burning a hole in the back pocket of my jeans, vibrating over and over on repeat. I can't take any calls. Not until I've figured out what's going on with H. 

"Let's go." He slurs as soon as he approaches me. No hello, no nice to see you, Shay. Thanks for picking me up, like you have nothing better to be doing right now. I startle as he hauls the driver side door of my car open before dropping in to my seat. This gives me pause, because A) since when does he think he can just drive my car without asking? And B) he's clearly in no fit state to drive. 

I wrap my knuckles against the driver window, and he responds by putting the window down. But he doesn't turn to face me, he keeps his slanted eyes up front. 

"Are you deaf now? I said, let's go." His voice is like black ice, and I decide it's probably best not to argue. Not until we're back in town at least. So I reluctantly walk around the car and get in the passenger seat. Not the first time I've ridden shot gun with a drunk driver, and I guess I should trust Hunter's judgement. He's no fool, he wouldn't elect to drive if he wasn't capable of doing so.

I hope. 

He wastes no time starting up the engine and gunning out of the parking lot. I don't say anything right away, I just study him curiously, trying to work out what the fuck has happened.

His eyes appear ten shades darker than usual, if that's even possible, and his usually well kept hair is in a complete state of disarray. He looks like he spent the entire flight pulling at his hair and rubbing his eyes... almost like he's been having trouble sleeping? 

I decide that could be a good opener. 

"Dude, have you been getting enough sleep lately?" I ask softly, sensing he's in no humour to listen to my bullshit. I gotta at least try. 

There's a tense pause before he answers, and there's also a laugh. A spine chilling, dark and ominous laugh that puts me more on edge than I already was. Hunter Del Testa is fucked up today, very fucked up. And I'm officially beyond worried. 

"Dude?" He repeats when the laughter stops. "Why the fuck would you call me dude? That's just fucking fantastic!"

I frown, because he yells the last word, and I notice him sinking his foot on the gas pedal too. We're away from the airport now, driving along woodland country roads where a speed limit most certainly applies in the interests of safety. Hunter's completely ignoring that speed limit though, and it's concerning me.   

"I call everyone dude." I defend myself, watching as the speedometer gauge rises higher and higher. "Hunter, this is a little fast, no?"

"You call everyone dude." He shakes his head, glaring out at the road ahead. And he ignores my comment about the speed and chooses to continue accelerating, heightening my alarm. "You think of me as everyone. Nothing important, nobody special. I'm fucking no one to you, just like everyone else?"

"H, please!" I raise my voice as he narrowly swerves and misses a fallen oak tree that's partially covering some of the road. He is going far too fast now. "You're scaring me, slow down!"