“You’re quiet,” Parker said, pulling into
traffic, heading, Mason assumed, back to his house.
“Yeah.”
The two drove in silence for a while before
Parker said, “It didn’t mean anything you know. That girl,
Hannah.”
Mason didn’t respond; he didn’t know what to
say. In the back of his mind he’d always known Parker was a player.
He shouldn’t have built a fantasy of the pair of them living some
kind of gay version of “The Little House on the Prairie.”
“Looks like your folks are home.”
“Huh?” It was way too early for his parents
to be home. Looking in the same direction Parker was, Mason
understood. “No, that’s my car. The garage must have brought it
back.”
The pair got out of Parker’s truck and
approached the highly polished bright red Chevrolet Beretta GT in
the driveway.
“Co
