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---- Unspoken Rules ----
---- AVRIL ❂
-- The streets were emptied of occupants, and Trev was adamant about how we needed to return back to the house, but I disagreed. There was this feeling that rotted in the pit of my stomach, like something awful happened... Trevor wouldn't understand, so I kept my mouth shut about it. "You know... we could just pull over-"
"Pull over," I demanded, my eyes glued out to the winter fury that swirled around the strip mall.
"Say less."
"No- T, look." My finger jabbed the window as it pointed toward a lonesome man sitting upon a snow covered bench. "It's-"
Trevor grunted before he dramatically turned into the parking lot. "Now why the fuck are we out here again at seven in the fucking morning?" I chose not to respond, but instead to let that question simmer. All the years I've known Trevor he's never been too selfish toward the people he kept close. Of course he had moments of desensitizing himself from relationships... yet somehow he always came back with some outrageous excuse that pins all of the blame on the victim.
Brad peered up to me from his spot, his eyes barely met with mine at all once he took notice in the mullet wearing asshole in the driver's seat. "So, how 'bout those masks?" I asked as Brad's wallet weighed in the palm of my hand. He looked for approval before he snatched his wallet back, and climbed in the back of the truck. "So much for a fuckin thank you," I mumbled.
"Brad, I believe this nice woman is owed a Thank you," Trevor shouted over the roaring engine of his truck. "She did just drag my ass out of bed to find your sorry ass." I adored when Trevor said sorry, about, or anything that showed his canadian descent. I mostly liked it because it was something he hated about himself.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll thank her once we get this heist done with," Brad snickered.
"Eh," Trevor shouted. "Wrong answer!" The truck immediately came to a halt, which caused Brad to slam his face into the back window. "Now, where was the answer I was looking for?"
"I am sorry- I mean, I- thank you." Trevor broke out into a fit of laughter as he sped through the crowded roads of North Yankton. A smile crept onto my freezing face. We still have yet to find Michael in the storm, but I knew he was okay. He had to be... I reached into my shoulder bag until my trembling fingers wrapped around the small flip phone. Michael was the first on my phone list, so his name wasn't hard to find... it's his attention that was.
The phone rang a number of times before she finally answered. "Hello," a child's voice rang across the line. "Aunt Avril?"
"Hey," I beamed. "Tracey, where's daddy? Is he with you?" She took a moment to respond, which gave me every reason to dread the outcome. Trevor pulled the truck over at the side of a road, his posture straight, and his eyebrows knitted together like an old blanket made by my grandma.
