The Transplant ✔️

41. On The Road Again

Jolie's POV:

"It's perfect! I can't wait to get it published." I was on the phone with the lady at the publisher's, making sure my article was set in stone before leaving for Texas. Luckily, Jobe had been late so I was able to handle my important business.

Soon after I hung up my phone, I got a frantic knock at the door.

"Sorry I'm late." Jobe was finally late, but fashionably so. He was wearing a simple white tee with relaxed fit jeans that were stained at the bottom near his boots, but boy, did he make that outfit look good.

"It's okay, come in." I guided him to the plate of breakfast I had saved for him.

"Thank you, but we really should be going; I'll eat on the way." He took a quick bite of bacon before dusting his fingers off and closing the plastic plate.

"Well hello, Jobe." My mom tapped her feet, gliding towards Jobe for a hug. My mom was a hugger, and a very welcoming person. She liked Jobe, and I was glad she felt that way.

"Miss Mia, nice to see you." He grinned.

"Hey, man." Oh, brother...literally.

Emeric walked in, sliding passed my mother to give Jobe a firm, too firm, handshake.

"Emeric Boston, nice to see you." Jobe played it cool.

"You take care of my little sister out there, alright? I don't like her going anywhere with strange men, and you're no exception. There will be more than just a kidney cut out of you if you treat her badly. You're picking up what I'm putting down?"

"Yes, he's got it, Emeric." I sprung myself to my brother, tearing him away from Jobe. I was glad Emeric was protective, but no offense, he wasn't as built or as strong as Jobe.

"Don't worry, she's in good hands." Jobe tried to sound genuine, but the words, good hands, only led to a different belief than genuine.

"Come on, we better head out if we want to make some progress. Bye Emeric, stay safe in Florida, and you have a good time without us, Mom; I'll see you two soon."

I waved my goodbyes, grabbing a handful of bags near the door, Jobe helping me do so.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Ready."

I wasted no time in getting comfortable in Jobe's truck, as he was too amiable to say anything.

I slipped my sandals off, putting my feet on the glove compartment, the cool air from the vent next to me a refreshing relief.

"So what do you want to listen to?" He pulled out of the driveway, fixing the volume on his radio as he spoke.

"Usually, I'd go for whatever is on, but I decided to change it up." Grabbing my clutch from the back seat, I took out my CD. It was an old vacation/traveling CD I created when burning CDs were the fad, and I was going to use it again today. There were probably old Beach Boys and Kenny Chesney summer songs, but who cares?

Jobe took the see, glaring with a weary eye.

"You brought your own CD?" He chuckled.

"Yes, I did; I always come prepared. I also have a list of nice restaurants along the way, with an itinerary. Then in my luggage bag, I have a first aid kit, batteries, a light, and a tazer in case we encounter trouble."

"Woah, how did you remember to pack all of that? I am totally not prepared, ever. All I have is clothes, and I'd be lucky if I packed enough. And were you joking about the tazer?" He eyed me from the driver's side.

"I'd never joke about a tazer. I got it as a Christmas present once; it's pink." I smiled.

"Ah, well, hopefully we won't have any problems, but I have my own weapons in the back of the truck: shotguns, a pistol, and an m-16. I think you have nothing to worry about." A big, strong man to protect me? Don't mind if I do.

I bit my lip, trying not to act like his beefy comment had got me dazed into thinking of him defending me in a life or death battle of the fittest.

Taking my CD back from his hand, I slid it into the audio slot and scanned through a few songs. I settled on, what do you know, a Kenny Chesney song. No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problem is an iconic, summer song, and I have no shame.

"Nice choice. I used to love this song. Usually, my range is Toby Keith, but this song is nice."

"I'm surprised you listen to country, honestly. Most guys listen to rap, or at least rock. Your friends probably tease you." I blatantly said.

"I listen to rock, too. People never bothered to ask what I listened to, and  the only close friend I've ever had was Andy, and well, you can tell by his cowboy hat he's not afraid of a little country music."

"You and Andy still aren't talking?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Jobe shook his head no.

I felt guilty, knowing that this was partly my fault.

"Things happen for a reason, and if we work it out, fine; if we don't work it out, I won't feel guilty because I know I'm in the right." He explained.

I slumped into my seat, adjusting my tank top strap that was being scraped by the band of the seat belt.

"Friends get into bad fights. Emeric and his friends always got into stupid fights. Sure, he's not friends with most of them anymore, but real friends will stick around. People can change and grow up if they really want to."

"Your brother, Emeric, is pretty close to you. I'm surprised he didn't wring my neck in there." Jobe fussed.

"He's protective; like you are with Avie." I said.

"I know, I get it. I like your brother, oddly enough; he's a cool dude. Did I hear you say he was going to Florida?"

"Yes, but not for a vacation. He's going on tour with Carrie Underwood. So look out on all of the free concerts I'm going to be going to." I smiled brightly.

"That has to be exciting; he's basically going to be famous. Do I get an invite to some of those concerts?" He looked from me, then back to the road, a twist of playfulness plastered on his face.

"Eh, maybe." Yes.

Jobe put his left hand on the wheel, trying to use his right hand to grab his sunglasses in the compartment in the middle of us. His hand grazed mine, a chill traveled up my spine worse than an icy hot.

"Sorry." He murmured, his slanted eyes in a rendezvous with mine.

"It's okay." It's lovely, in fact.

He steadied himself back on the chair with the retrieval of his brown, faded sunglasses. I had noticed a pair of sparkly raybans in the pile before he closed the compartment, and a pang of jealousy caused me to speak.

"Those for Lisa?" I asked, a twang of sass in my tone.

"No, they're Avie's. She has an...extravagant taste in fashion, you know that. Besides, Lisa and I, we...just weren't working out."

For a second, I thought I'd have to get a scalpel to cut through my chest to pick up my heart that just dropped.

"You guys broke up?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"I broke up with her." Usual with couples, it was agreeable to say the break up was negotionably plural, but Jobe made sure to put emphasis on this being his decision. I was proud, to say the least. Jobe was better than Lisa, and it was finally time he recognized that.

"That's...wow." I was out of words for once.

And to think this trip would be interesting; things just got a little bit crazier. Staying away from Jobe was going to just that much harder.