Fix It Up - Mary Calmes Page 0,41

other that Conner could rest his head on Nick’s shoulder, so it wasn’t all bad. Based on the soft snoring, he’d already crashed again.

“Tell me where I’m going,” I told Nick.

Before we got far, Conner woke up and warned us that he was going to be sick again. It was nice that he did it before I’d hit the freeway and opened up the throttle.

“You guys don’t have to drive me all the way home,” Conner said once he could speak again. “You can just dump me at––”

“No,” Nick was emphatic as his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “We’re either taking you to your house or ours. You pick.”

It was selfish, but I hoped he chose his own house. Nick and I were just starting to see eye to eye, so I didn’t want someone else there dividing his attention. I wanted it to be just the two of us.

“I wanna go home,” Conner almost cried, and I was thrilled, even though it would eat up the rest of the night.

“Then we’ll take you,” Nick told him, stroking his hair before meeting my gaze again. “It’s not that far,” he told me. “La Jolla is a little more than two hours away.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling off to check Google Maps on my phone. “Gimme the address.”

We didn’t say much to each other on the way there, Nick and Conner talking instead, but Conner directed me once I was heading south on La Jolla Scenic Drive. Even in the dark I could tell I was in a high-end neighborhood. I’d never been to so many multimillion-dollar homes in my life, from Santa Barbara to Malibu, and now La Jolla.

The gate at the end of Conner’s driveway was much older than Nick’s, wrought iron with a giant scrolled W at the center.

“I thought his last name was Fox?” I asked Nick as he stood at the call box, waiting for someone to answer.

“Fox is his stage name,” he explained. “His real name is Wallingford.”

“Hello?” a tired voice answered.

“Jenna?”

“Yes, who—ohmygod, Nicky?”

He waved into the security camera. “Sweetie, I’ve got your brother in my car. Can you let me in?”

She gasped.

“No, no, no,” he said quickly. “He’s okay, just a little drunkish.”

The gate started to open before he’d finished the explanation.

“You swear?” she asked him, her voice small and steeped in worry.

“I promise,” he vowed, crossing his heart for emphasis.

He hopped into the passenger seat, and I drove down the long tree-lined drive. “I bet this is beautiful in the daytime. These trees look ancient.”

“Yeah, it’s close to four acres,” Nick told me, “and the house itself is gorgeous. I wish you could see it, but I don’t want to stay over. I just want to go home.”

“Me too,” I said, smiling at the thought.

When I pulled up in front of the house, Nick got out and greeted the three people who came running from inside. There were two women in robes and Conner’s dad, who looked exactly like an older, more distinguished version of his son, even in pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He was the only one who didn’t stop to hug Nick. Instead, he came straight to the car to check on his son.

I asked Mr. Wallingford if he needed any help with Conner, but he said he could handle it, and thanked me for offering. Conner was moving under his own steam by that time, for the most part, but when his knees buckled, I was out of the driver’s seat and at his side in seconds. Lifting Conner easily, I asked his father where he wanted me to take him.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly, clearly overwhelmed. “Let me show you.”

Once Conner was settled, cleaned up and in bed, his parents insisted we spend the night, but Nick was adamant that we needed to head home, so half an hour later, after lavish thanks and more hugging than I was comfortable with, Nick and I were outside, heading to the car.

“I’m really proud of you,” I told him, turning to speak to him over my shoulder. “And I hope you don’t take that as me being patronizing, but you were a hero for both of your––”

“Wait.”

Stopping, I pivoted to face him and was surprised that he was right there in front of me.

“I don’t want you to qualify what you––” He took a breath. “Can you just…stop?”

“I did. You can see I’m not moving.”

“No, that’s not—you’ve been walking on eggshells with me.”

I was quiet.

“Please, Loc, just, I