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I raised my eyebrows. “Oh yeah? I think I could get behind that idea.”
Someone yelled my name from the direction of the stage, and we both turned.
A red-faced Gladys Pinkman marched across the stage, her fist raised.
“Bryce Storm! You better have a good explanation for this!”
She continued to yell as she came closer, and I twisted Krystal to one side, my arm still firmly around her waist.
I smiled broadly, hoping to disarm the crazy woman with my usual charm.
“Oh, Gladys, how nice to see you. You’ve met my girlfriend, Krystal, right?”
Gladys turned to Krystal and screamed, “How dare you? My Trina is absolutely heartbroken!”
My eyes flicked to a perfectly nonplussed Trina walking up behind her mother.
She sighed and laid a hand on her mom. “I’m fine. Honestly, Mom. You’re being ridiculous.” Trina turned to me. “I’m so sorry about this. Congratulations on all the money the event raised. That’s the point, after all. Isn’t it, Mom?” She grabbed Glady’s arm and pulled her away, flashing me an eye roll before talking in low tones to calm her down.
I blew out a breathy laugh and turned back to Krystal. “You sure maybe LA doesn’t sound good?”
Krystal laughed. “Where else would we get this kind of entertainment?”
We started walking out from the backstage area, toward the table with lunch. “So, what are you thinking you’ll use your four hours on? I’m all yours. Do you have any heavy lifting you need done?” I flexed my bicep with a cocky smile.
Krystal laughed.
Her response was lost as Jake appeared across the field, yelling my name. “Bryce!” He waved his hands and ran over to me, his hair disheveled and a look of pain and horror on his face.
“Whoa, whoa. What’s wrong?” I’d never seen Jake like this before. And we’d been through some serious stuff together.
He panted through his answer. “The volunteer call. Car accident. It’s Monica.”
