Page 66 of The Real


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I laughed as he looked at me, exasperated.

“I’m telling you, Coach, people have no business outside of civilization. Nothing good ever happens in the woods. This is where the crazies come to congregate, multiply, and plot.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Cameron asked. “You think that concrete jungle we call home is safer?”

“I think that if we were in Chicago right now we wouldn’t be sitting targets in the middle of the woods.”

“Even so, Chicago is the most dangerous city in the US. Talk about safety in numbers being an illusion.”

I shrugged. “I have mace.”

“Well, that changes everything.” He rolled his eyes.

“You aren’t safe anywhere, with anyone,” I said with a bite. “The BTK killer was married. Like happily married and no one knew what a psycho he was for over a decade. Bind, Torture, Kill, and go home and eat meatloaf before you read the kids a bedtime story. Doesn’t that baffle you? Like, how do you ever really know someone?”

“You have to trust them.”

“Trusting doesn’t mean knowing, two distinct definitions,” I said with a little more bite.

“Abbie?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“But you did, so tell me.”

“No,” I said, feigning a smile.

“That smile was fake. This is on your mind. Talk to me about it.”

“That’s not part of our deal,” I said, moving to my seat before I began nervously messing with the vents.

“How long are we going to do this?” he asked, turning in his seat to face me. “Why can’t I know?”

“We agreed.”

“That was then,” he pressed. “This isn’t a game.”

“It’s never been a game to me,” I defended. “And I told you that.”

“Fine, an experiment,” he relented. “I won’t fight with you. It’s the last thing I want.”

“Then let’s table this. Okay?” I’d been creeped out enough for one day. The last thing I wanted to talk about was Luke.

“Okay.”

The air had changed between us, regardless of our truce. I hated it. Loathed it. It was always when things got heavy that everything changed. That’s why I would fight as long as I could to keep the old hurts and resentment away. It had no place between us.

“Want to play a game?” I asked as he rubbed a knuckle along the steering wheel. He looked over at me and read my expression. I was pleading with him to help me fix the strangling air between us.

“I brought some booze. Want me to get it?” he offered.

“Why in the hell didn’t you say anything before now?!”

He grinned as he jumped out of the vehicle and opened the trunk. Seconds later, he was back in the driver’s seat with my choice of Tito’s vodka or Maker’s Mark.

“Perfect!” I said, grabbing the vodka. “Let’s do this.”

“That. Is. Insane,” Cameron roared hysterically. “I can’t believe we’ve been drinking coffee all this time when all I had to do was give you vodka!”

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