Chapter 8

On the drive home, Troy glanced at his cell from the passenger seat and grinned at the incoming text.

Camryn huffed. “What are you smiling about? That was a disaster.”

Aside from Fisher getting pissed off, Baba insulting Cam to the point where he was pretty sure she'd cried upstairs, and Troy possibly losing his best friend for life, he’d say it was a complete success. “It wasn’t that bad. They believed us.”

“Only after Anna forced me to flash her in the kitchen.”

He would’ve loved to see the look on her face for that. “Heather just texted me. She put your suitcase in the trunk so you can stay in my guest room tonight.”

Cam said nothing.

Troy screwed with his phone settings. Grinning, he played the demo for I Will Survive. “What do you think of your new ringtone?”

She didn’t respond.

“No? Okay, how about this?” Crazy by Patsy Cline chimed through the car.

“I don’t need my own ringtone. And you’re not funny.”

“I’m a little funny.” He cued My Life by Billy Joel.

“What was my ringtone before?”

He fished through his downloads and played the Imperial March instrumental from Star Wars, the music used whenever Darth Vader entered a scene.

“Hilarious.”

“Told you I was,” he said. At least she was smiling now. He found When I See You Smile by Bad English, and hit Save.

She pulled into his driveway, stopping before the attached garage door, and put her reliable gray Honda sedan into Park. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then at his red brick ranch with brown shutters. The neighborhood kids in varying ages were riding bikes in the road and tossing balls around, despite dusk descending. Their laughter and noise wafted into the confines of her car.

His pine shrubs hugging the foundation needed to be trimmed when they got back from Colorado. They were getting too full. He’d also have to call his neighbor and ask her to water the two pots of flowers by the stoop Heather had brought over, insisting he needed them. No man truly needed red geraniums or orange marigolds, but it had been kind of her to spruce up the yard a bit. He figured Cam would say something about the bushes or whatnot, so he mentally checked off the tasks.

“Are you sure it’s okay I stay here? I could scar your reputation.”

How unexpected. She was trying to be comical, but he wasn’t buying it. “Your family was wrong, Cam. What Baba said back there, it was mean and completely not true.”

Her gaze darted to him and returned to the windshield. Her index finger drummed the steering wheel. “Fisher was pretty upset.”

Yeah, and Troy didn’t want to think about it. That wound was still fresh.

He exited the car, took her suitcase from the trunk, and unlocked the front door for them. “Go get your pajamas on. We’re drinking beer and watching Night of the Living Dead.” She was going to laugh tonight if it was the last thing he did.

The second time he’d been placed in foster care with the Covics, Camryn and himself, along with Fisher and Heather, had snuck downstairs past bedtime to watch the movie on television. Heather had run upstairs crying after ten minutes and Fisher had fallen asleep after fifteen. Troy and Cam had spent the whole movie laughing at the absurdity, mocking the actors and cheesy lines. It had been one of the best nights from his childhood.

She smiled and took the suitcase from him. “Make mine wine instead of beer, and you’re on.”