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“Yeah, I know.”
“You also smell like cheap beer. And . . . geez, Wyatt, is that throw up?”
“Yes.”
She sighs and shakes her head, putting her car in reverse and backing out of the parking spot.
“What happened?” she asks.
“Willa and I had a conversation—one I didn’t want to have. I avoided her for a few hours, then went to a bar and got very drunk.”
“I’m guessing that’s the CliffsNotes version.”
“It is.”
“Are you going to give me the full one?”
I look over at her, at the way both of her hands are gripping her steering wheel so tight her knuckles are white and her jaw is clenched. I sigh and run a hand through my hair. I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her she deserves better than me, someone who isn’t so screwed up. Somehow, meeting her has both ruined me and brought me back to life. I was fine before her—I had a good routine of pretending to be a happy man. A man who, in all reality, kept his feelings and the people he loved at arm’s length.
I lean my head against the back of the seat and close my eyes.
“Honestly?”
“All I have ever asked from you was honesty, Wyatt,” Lucy says softly. “I’m the one person you don’t have to pretend with.”
And that one statement makes me want to laugh, because she has no idea.
“No, Luce, I’m not giving you the full story. That’s all you need to know.”
Lucy’s jaw somehow clenches tighter, but she nods. “Where do you want to go?”
“What?” I ask, caught off guard.
“You said you don’t want to go home, so, where am I taking you, Wyatt?”
I look at the window and shrug.
“My truck is at Tipsy’s Tavern.”
“Okay.”
“I guess you can take me there.”
She doesn’t respond, but she takes a left at the light on Main instead of right. I look over at her and raise my eyebrows, but she’s not looking at me. She reaches over to the volume on the radio and turns it up a little. I grit my teeth at the way my pounding headache complains at the noise, but I keep my mouth shut. Maybe she knows a shortcut to Tipsy’s, so I close my eyes and fold my arms over my chest.
A few minutes later, the car stops. I open my eyes and slowly turn to Lucy, who’s unbuckling her seatbelt.
“This is not Tipsy’s,” I inform her.
“Clearly,” Lucy scoffs. “Glad to know you’re aware of your surroundings, though.”
I sigh. “I am severely hungover, Lucy. I have a splitting headache, I’m fully aware of how bad I smell. Please take me to my truck and let me be.”
“No.” She gets out of the car.
I take a deep breath. Then I take another, because right now, at this very moment, I want to strangle her. I get out of her car and walk around to the hood that she’s casually leaning against.
“Why did you bring me here?” I practically growl.
