Home is a Four Letter Word

chapter thirty-eight

Early June

"You doin' drugs or somethin'?" Aaron slammed the truck door shut in the driveway.

"What?" Jake stared at him with dumbfounded amazement.

"Some drug dealer lives over here, this is his place ain't it?" He pointed to the house.

"Dude, shut the fuck up." Jake shook his head as he walked up the little overgrown path to the front door with his best friend behind him. "Why would I bring you to a drug dealer's house? Are you fucking stupid?"

"You really gotta ask?"

No. No I don't.

Something dawned on him. "Oh, wait, this is McKenna's ex-boyfriend's house, ain't it? She here too?"

McKenna's ex-boyfriend was the drug dealer dumbass.

"No, Ken is at home, sleeping peacefully in bed like I should be right now."

"Stop being a bitch, you wouldn't-a left me out there." Aaron punched Jake's arm lightly as he reached out to the front door.

"Yeah, I know." He mumbled back, praying the anxiety settling in didn't reflect in his voice.

Jake held the handle in his hands just like he had done a dozen times before, but something in his mind was screaming at him not to go in. It sounded like all of it was a big mistake, pleading that it wasn't too late to turn around. He could detour Aaron back to his house and forget about his weekend plans with Connor like he could run away from his two worlds colliding forever. Realistically, that wasn't a possibility, but Jake would be damned if he didn't think it should have been one.

God, nope. No. We're doing this. It's not a big deal.

"What, is it broken?" Aaron taunted him as the rain dripped down from the gutter onto his already soaking wet hair.

Jake licked rain off his lips and turned to look at Aaron, trying not to get caught up in the gnarly bruises that were forming over his left eyebrow and jaw. He winced at the thought of what Aaron went through to get them, but it was somehow the last thing on his mind right now.

"Look, you gotta promise me you're not going to be a dick." He rolled his head over desperately.

"Yeah, whatever, okay."

"Seriously, man. Behave yourself or I'll kick your ass."

"Okay!" Aaron threw his hands up in surrender.

Okay.

His heart was about to leap out of his chest, but against all alarms going off in his head, he twisted the metal knob under his fingers and opened the door.

And then instantly closed it.

Nope.

"What the fuck, Jake?" Aaron smacked his hands down dramatically, sounding like he couldn't be any more done with him in the current moment. "It's fucking rainin' man, what is your deal?!"

In comedically perfect timing, thunder started rumbling in the distance as the droplets kept pouring down on their heads. Aaron stared at him for an explanation, but Jake didn't have an explanation. He just couldn't do it.

"I was wrong. We should go to my place." He muttered, trying to compute how to escape the hole he dug himself into.

"Yeah, like hell." Aaron scoffed. "You know what time it is? Your dad will shoot us dead the moment we open the door."

He was right. Aaron was right. They couldn't sneak into the house if they even tried. Firstly, they would wake up the dog, and secondly, Jake was eighty percent certain his father was passed out on the couch—beer can hanging out of his hand—ready to grab the gun from underneath the couch at any minute and sloppily fire it at whatever made noise. It wouldn't have been the first time either. The raccoon hanging up on the wall in the basement was proof of that.