One For The Road

48: Lock

"I'm serious, Griffin. We really need to find the key to my place. I have clothes and shit there that I'd like to see again," I said.

As fun as new beginnings were, I had gotten used to ignoring a lot of my favorite outfits back home. I lived without them in Canada, but when they were just down the street, it was a little more difficult to justify not having them.

But with the way that his arm held me close to his warm body all throughout the night, my heart tried to trick me into thinking I didn't need any of it anymore. Why the hell did I need any clothes at all?

"It's early. Just go back to sleep," he mumbled in my ear.

Very convincing argument.

I shut my eyes again. "As soon as it's less early, we're gonna find it. And I'm so fucking serious."

"I'm sure, Kate."

I bit my lip. What the hell was that supposed to mean? "You know what? We should look right now. I want to go home today and hang out with my trophies. There are a few that really need to be dusted."

"Really?"

"Yes. Get up. I want to see my trophies," I said.

It had been a while—at least six months—since I held each one and let it take me back to when I owned every track I raced whether I won or lost. If I could make it through the time when my crew chief was my only guidance through a lengthy recovery, I could make it until I climbed into a Cup car once again.

He rolled over without getting up. "Do you want something to eat first? This could take a while."

I shook my head and threw on a shirt. "Nope."

"Well, good luck, because I searched for an hour and couldn't find it."

"I'll do my best."

There were several places he kept his random shit in the house, and the first was the drawer next to the silverware in the kitchen. I headed downstairs to check it out as Griffin struggled to put on some pants while he followed me.

And in that junk drawer was the key I gave him when I joined him in Baton Rouge with RTR. The little heart painted in red still hadn't chipped or faded away from that day.

"What the fuck do you mean you couldn't find it? Are all men really this goddamn pitiful?" I asked and held it up to him.

"It wasn't there when I checked," he said, and all I could do is just look at him.

Why the hell weren't more women attracted to me? It would save me from so much of this bullshit.

At least I liked looking at him.

"You care if Penny comes with us? She needs a walk, and I don't want to leave her alone. She gets into shit even though she knows she's not supposed to," Griffin said and emphasized the last part so the dog could hear wherever the hell she was.

And after getting dressed for the real day with the key and leash in hand, the three of us walked over to my old place and opened it back up.

It was my house, but it definitely wasn't a home. I spent too much time on the road for something like that.

"It smells weird in here," Griffin said. "How long has it been empty? Six months?"

I nodded. "It almost feels like it's been longer, though."

Although the landscaping in the front of the house looked overgrown and rough, the inside hadn't changed at all from the way I left it (besides dust and a few cobwebs). I'd clean it all out a different day.