Promises Made, Promises Broken - SYTYCW (Bad Reputation)

Present Day (Chapter Twenty-One) Thursday

Joey

I opened my eyes slowly, relishing the ache that coursed through my body.  In spite of the fact that I’d fallen asleep wedged between a steering wheel and Tucker’s petite frame, I felt rested.  And utterly satisfied.  I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face

She wriggled against me, and I tightened my arms around her waist immediately.

“If you keep doing that,” I growled. “I won’t be held responsible for my actions. And it’s daylight now. Evan’s neighbours will talk.”

She laughed softly, and wriggled again.

“Dammit, Tucker.”

She pouted, and the look was so uncharacteristic that I burst out laughing.

“It’s your loss anyway,” she told me.

I traced a finger up her bare shoulder. “I’m well aware of what I’m missing. But that doesn’t mean I want the whole neighbourhood to be aware, too.”

She sat, and pulled her t-shirt on, then sighed. “I’ve got class anyway. And I should go home first.”

“Let me drop you off.”

For a second, I thought she was going to say no, then her face softened.  She gave me a sweet smile.

“All right, Joey. This one time, I’ll let you drive me home. I just have to grab my pants from inside Evan’s place.”

“You are not walking across his lawn with no pants.”

She ignored me, and scrambled out of the truck.  Part of me was irritated at her blatant disregard for decency.  Most of me was too busy enjoying the view as she scurried across the yard to Evan’s house.  The perfect curve of her backside peeked out from under the t-shirt, and I grinned as I realized she hadn’t put her underwear back on.

An intrusive tap on the window spoiled the moment.  Reluctantly, I rolled it down and greeted the familiar, hulking figure.

“Morning, Pete. You can let my father know I quit. Guess that means you’re out of a job, too.”

“Not at all. Just wanted to give you your parting paperwork,” the other man said.

He dropped a thin folder in my lap, then walked away. My mouth went dry as I scanned the contents of the file, flipping through the pages frantically.  It was a press release.  

Activist's Father Turns Arsonist, it read. Where are your donations really going?

There was a bit about a fire, and a picture of Tucker waving a placard.  Shit.  My father was making good on his promise to drag her name through the mud.  Had he turned it in to the papers yet?  I needed to stop him.

I shoved the whole thing into the glove box just as Tucker came back to the truck.

“You okay?” she asked. “You look like you swallowed something disgusting.”

I forced a laugh. “Yeah. Morning breath. You want a kiss?”

“Gross.”

I drove her to her dorm, dropped her in front of the building with a vague promise of lunch, and kicked the truck into drive.  I drove to my parents’ house blindly, oblivious to stop signs and streetlights and everything but my need to confront the man who wanted to break Tucker’s heart.

I parked the truck on the grass in front of the fountain and took the walkway in three strides.  I flung the front door open and hollered at the top of my lungs.