Not that I really knew what that meant at the moment, either. But whatever it was, I could get on with it.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I enjoyed being there. It wasn’t just the slower speed of everything, which was welcome after what felt like a decade running solely on adrenaline and coffee. It was also that the diner was home. It had always been home, even when I rejected it. It was where my parents spent most of their time, where I grew up, and where people already knew me and trusted me.
Plus, there was Everett.
Sighing and shaking that thought out of my head, I walked to the car, carrying the last of my things from the hotel, and stuffed them into the back. I had plenty of time to think about Everett on the long drive back. And it was a long drive, especially at night.
Over the years, I had become pretty much an expert at that drive. Coming home for holidays and occasional random visits meant that I was pretty used to how to get there, where to stop, where not to stop, and where, for all that was holy, to never ever break down for any reason. A full tank of gas was essential, as was a valid membership to AAA. A blanket, a case of bottled water, and a bag full of snacks were also regular and required parts of my pre-trip list.
I stopped at an all-night gas station, filled up on the essentials, grabbed enough energy drinks to wake up the dead, and got on the road. I played a couple of podcasts, switched between musical genres, and spent a considerable amount of time not even paying attention to whatever was coming out of the speakers as I drove.
When I finally made it to Ashford, it was nearly midnight. I was tired, but my mind was wired. I spent almost the entire time that I wasn’t singing my heart out or paying attention to the podcasts thinking about Everett. Specifically, thinking about Everett and his incredible body and the things he did with me before I left for Chicago.
I got home, went inside, and figured the luggage and everything could wait until morning. I had plenty of clothes and things at home that I didn’t strictly need anything there. It being late, I couldn’t go grab something to eat, and I wasn’t particularly hungry anyway. At least not for food.
Maybe a shower would help. I could get a shower, get into comfortable clothes, and climb into bed. It was as good a plan as any.
But the second I stepped into the shower, the hot water streaming in long rivulets down my skin, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. I needed relief. And not the kind I could bring myself. Not as good as I could get from Everett.
The only problem was, how the hell could I make a booty call when I didn’t even know his number? I failed to get it from Rebecca before I left, a mistake I kicked myself for when I got to Chicago. How could I contact him if I didn’t know how to do so? Social media? That was taking a risk he wouldn’t see it.
A thought popped into my brain, and I immediately felt bad about it. There was a way I could find out where he lived. It was shady as hell and probably illegal, but it would work.
Everett lived in Rebecca’s old house. She told me how Everett and Deacon lived together, and when she came into the picture, she traded places with Everett, giving him her parents’ old house. That meant that the employee files for the diner would have his address listed as the former address for Rebecca. And that was if anyone changed it.
I sat on my couch, short shorts climbing up my ass cheeks and a crop top on, so much skin showing that I realized I had done it on purpose. I wanted to look cute and sexy and casual. Because I had every intention of seeing Everett. Legal or not.
“Fuck it,” I muttered as I pulled up my laptop. It had all the files for the restaurant, since it had all been put on a cloud storage.
I pulled up Rebecca’s employee information and scanned for her address. On the second page, I saw her current place, then former residence listed as well. The name even sounded familiar. He had mentioned the street he lived on when he got to my apartment.
I took a deep breath. This was risky. I could get there, and he wouldn’t be home or wouldn’t answer because he was asleep, or even worse, he would have moved on and had another girl over. A streak of surprising vicious jealousy ran down my spine at that thought, and I shook it off. If he did have someone over, then I would just politely throw her out on her ass. Everett was going to bed with me. That was that.