He gave me a quick kiss, then picked up the phone.
I turned on my phone as well, shining the light on the ground so I could gather our shoes. I held them with one arm and with my other grabbed his hand and led him back to the truck while he assured whoever was on the phone that he was on his way home and had just lost track of time.
He hung up and kissed me again. “Yep. Totally worth it.”
I smiled.
We both looked at our muddy feet. He opened the truck door, dug the squirt gun out of the Eric box, and sprayed my feet several times. “I thought that would work better,” he said. “Like your brother was looking out for us or something.”
“I’m guessing my brother would find this amusing.”
“Are you once again pointing out that your brother is similar to me? After you were kissing me and everything?”
“Jackson. You are not my brother.”
He squirted my feet one more time. “I think I would’ve liked your brother.”
I hugged him. “I think I would’ve too.”
Thirty-Three
I tried not to register the mud now on the floor mats. I’d clean them up later. I’d put everything back to normal later. It would all be fine.
“I think the seat belt over here is broken,” he said, sliding next to me as I drove away from the lake and toward his house.
My heart seemed to stop. “It is? Can you fix it?”
“Moore, it was a joke. You know, the best pickup line ever.”
“Oh. Right. It’s just this truck: nothing can happen to it.”
“I know. It’s fine. You’ve done fine.” He kissed my cheek.
“Don’t distract me. I have to drive.”
He rested his hand on my knee, which wasn’t any less distracting. “Didn’t we already hear this song? Is the radio playing repeats?”
He was right. We had heard it. Or at least the first part of it, not the whole thing.
“That happened last time we stopped too. Is it a . . .” He pushed a button and the music stopped and a tape came sliding out of the slot on top. “It’s a tape.”
My breath caught. “It is? It must’ve been his. Does it say anything on it?”
He took it out and flipped it once. “No. But someone made it. There are too many artists on it to be one album.”
“Do you think Eric made it?”
“I don’t know, but if he did, he had excellent taste in music.”
“I was going to say the same thing.”
He smiled and put the tape back in the player. “Thanks for letting me be part of tonight. I had fun.”
“Me too. I guess you need to take Heath Hall away now.” I nodded toward the dash where he and his empty eyes still gazed at us creepily.
He loaded him into the backpack and zipped it up. “Do you have anyone you want to nominate to wear this?”
“Besides you?”
“I just walked into an icy cold lake. I’m good.”
I squeezed his hand. Was he good?
“I think I’m going to pass on the torch,” he said. “Let someone else be the mask’s keeper.”
“Really?”
“I was hanging on to it for so long because I felt like it was the only purpose I had in my life. I think I was scared to let it go. But it’s time for Heath to move on.”
“Do you know who you’re passing it to?”
“I’m not sure. What do you think about Amelia?”
The suggestion surprised me, but then it didn’t. “She’d actually be pretty perfect.”
We pulled up in front of his house and he didn’t make any move to leave. Instead, he turned toward me. “I’m so proud of you. This”—he pointed to the floor of the truck—“was amazing. Best fear I’ve ever witnessed. You crushed it. Not that I’m surprised. That’s what you do.”
I wanted to feel good about his compliments, but dread was creeping its way into my shoulders, tightening them with each passing second. “It’s not over yet.”
“What are you going to do? About your parents? How are you going to talk to them? Are you going to leave the truck for them to find?”
“No. Maybe. I have no idea.”
“Someone once told me that you didn’t need to know the future, you just had to move forward.”
“Smart advice.”
“I thought so.”
“You should keep that person around in case they have other smart pieces of information to share.” I had started the sentence as a joke but realized I was unsure of where we stood, what he wanted moving forward. Was this just a unique, rule-breaking