And it was time to dive deep again.

“Let’s go.” I grabbed Piper’s hand and started for my car. “But I’m still wet. I need to change,” she whined.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling, “and I’m going to help.”

The roads were slick as hell. It hadn’t rained much this summer, and all of the oil buildup on the street had me constantly fishtailing.

But it’s not like I had the sense to slow down, either.

I sped up onto my driveway and into the garage, even though I knew I shouldn’t be in a rush. Nothing waiting for me but quiet at my house, and I didn’t like quiet.

Closing the garage, I walked through the door leading to the kitchen, peeled off my black T-shirt, and threw it into the laundry room basket. Piper was all over it.

“Hey, man,” I greeted Madman as he came racing down the stairs. “Come on.”

Opening the backdoor so he could do his business, I left it open and ran upstairs to plug in my dead cell phone.

As soon as I’d turned it on, I saw that I had a voicemail from Tate’s dad.

Why is he calling?

We’d just texted a few days ago. He’d checked in on me and his house.

I wasn’t sure what he wanted now, but either way, I wasn’t calling him back tonight. I jerked my head, a shrill scratching against my window panes causing me to jump.

“Goddamn tree.” I tossed my phone on the bed and stalked over to pull up the blinds. This tree between Tate’s and my window was a fucking nuisance. We constantly had to trim it, because it was threatening to puncture holes into the house. I’d told my mother this spring to just have it cut down, but it was technically on the Brandt’s property, and I guess they wanted to keep it.

Mr. Brandt kept it trimmed normally, but he never cut it back very far. I could still reach the branches, even after it’d been trimmed.

Pulling up the window and leaning out, I spied the branch sliding against the panes above me. With him gone, I’d have to take care of that tomorrow.

The rain was coming down in sheets and made everything glisten under the bright glow of the streetlights. I let my gaze wander through the maze of branches, shaking off memories of which ones I’d scraped my leg on or which ones I’d sat on with Tate.

I loved the damn tree, and I wanted it cut down. And then…I didn’t even see the tree anymore.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 678