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Taking a road that curved steeply up ahead, Fallon pulled the car in front of a familiar restaurant. The Golden Arches were easily recognizable.
Despite only beingnine o’clock, not a single light was on. The parking lot was empty of any car besides ours.
“That’s odd,” Ryder said, echoing my thoughts. Without a word, Fallon pulled back onto the road.
Since we were now off the highway, I was finally able to see the town that we were in. It was odd, but it appeared to be almost abandoned. No restaurant or store was open, and the houses, nestled between businesses at intermittent intervals, had the blinds drawn closed and lights off
It suddenly occurred to me how few cars were on the road. Even at this late hour, there should’ve been more than the handful I had spotted.
An uneasy feeling made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My hand tightened in Mof’s fur. The kitten continued to snuggle in my lap, completely oblivious. What I wouldn’t give to be a cat right about now.
“I’m not that hungry,” I hurried to say. I felt unreasonably frightened, though by what, I couldn’t discern.
Fallon made a noise, but he maneuvered the car back onto the highway. I counted, in the time it took us to get to wherever we were going, five cars in total. Five cars on the highway.
The uneasy feeling transformed into full-on terror.
Something wasn’t right.
“Where are we going?” I asked, relieved when my voice didn’t tremble over those few words.
“Since the resort’s out of commission, we’ve been staying at Sarge’s,” Ryder supplied, offering me a sympathetic smile at the first part of his statement. I realized then that I should’ve been mourning not only the loss of life, but the loss of my home.
I found that I couldn’t even summon a single tear for the damn place. The bad memories far outweighed the good ones.
“You have a bunch of teenage boys staying with you?” I asked Fallon, focusing on the last part of Ryder’s statement. “No wonder you don’t talk much. I would be a brooding asshole too if I had to deal with these idiots 24/7.”
“Hey!” Ryder said in mock-offense, but I thought I saw a hint of a smile cross Fallon’s impassive face.
It was small, but it was there. I would call that a win, especially since Fallon didn’t strike me as a smiling type of person. More like a murder-you-in-your-sleep type person.
He was a scary motherfucker, that was for sure.
I don’t know what I expected his house to be like, but a modest, two-story home with a white-picket fence wasn’t it. It was the type of house you would expect a suburban family to live in.
Unless...
“Holy shit! Do you have kids?” I asked Fallon in disbelief. He didn’t look that much older than me, mid-twenties at most, but who was I to judge the accuracy of the sex organ? He might’ve hit bullseyes every time for all I knew.
“You did not just say the accuracy of the sex organ,” Ryder groaned. I shrugged in response. He didn’t have to listen to my inner mumblings.
Another one of those diminutive smiles graced Fallon’s features.
“No kids,” he answered.
I eyed him quizzically.
“Girlfriend? Wife? Boyfriend? Husband? Come on man, this is such a soccer mom home.”
Ryder broke into laughter at my description, and Fallon looked towards the heavens. He wouldn’t find the patience to deal with me up there. I was more associated with the other place.
“I think she’s calling you a granny,” Ryder said to Fallon between fits of laughter. To me, he said, “I’ve been trying to tell this bastard that his house is not a suitable bachelor pad, but he doesn’t ever fucking listen to me.”
Ignoring him, Fallon walked to the trunk and grabbed my wheelchair. Unlike the asshole limo driver, Fallon and Ryder both helped me settle into the chair before pushing me up the gravel driveway. Fallon grabbed Mof for me, and the cat snuggled into his arms. I smiled at the sight of a muscular, scary-ass man cooing at a kitten.
My smile grew when I spotted rows of perfectly planted perennials along the edge of the house.
Yup. Totally a granny house. All it would need next was some cherub statues to complete the old person feel.
