Home is a Four Letter Word

chapter forty-seven

The Fourth... no, Fifth of July

"Look, look, the trees over to your left, do you see it?" Connor reached over Jake's chest to point out his window at the fireworks peppering the sky somewhere miles away.

"Yes, I see it. Move your damn hand Connor."

Jake jokingly shoved Connor's arm out of the way as he stared off into the tree-lined road in front of them. Out of some tired flirting tactic, Connor decided to shove his shoulder back in retaliation, causing Jake to swerve slightly over the line as he turned to look over Connor with a grin.

"Excuse me sir, I'm driving." He motioned to the wheel with his free hand like he was pointing out something obvious.

"Oh, look, another one!" Connor pointed out directly in front of them this time, watching as a single white firework was sent into the sky.

The week of Fourth of July always looked like this. Their town couldn't afford to host an actual firework display, so everyone in the town who had a backyard and no neighbors took it upon themselves to make do. It started on July 1st every year and lasted up until the day after the Fourth when people were lighting off all the leftovers at the same time. Everyone always referred to it as the 'loudest night of the year'; that being said, anyone could almost always find a party if they drove up and down the roads looking for one. He half wondered if Katherine was going to throw one this year. Aaron hadn't mentioned it yet, or maybe he just forgot.

It was a breezy night—nearly cold after the scorching sun set earlier as they were walking downtown. It was warmer in the city, but now driving down the back roads with the windows down and no sun in sight, it was colder than Jake had imagined it to be. Connor had the right idea wearing my sweatshirt down here. One of these days I'll actually wear my own sweatshirts around instead of giving them all to Connor and McKenna.

Connor's arm was resting on the window, looking contently out of it watching for more fireworks off in the distance. His hair was blown back by the wind, and his face—although clearly tired—had never looked so young. There was a beautiful grace in watching Connor absorb the night like reconnecting with a piece of himself that he lost a long, long time ago. Jake had a feeling when they finally got home and he finally fell asleep, the image of the night—and of Connor—would replay over and over until it found itself a home in his hall of memories forever.

His attention was ripped back to driving by the reflection of a road sign that seemed way too close for comfort. He swerved back into the lane, his heart speeding up for a moment before realizing how tired he was if he got lost staring at Connor long enough to nearly end up in the ditch. However abrupt it was, Connor either didn't seem to notice, or didn't care.

I wonder if Connor is a bad driver.

Jake grimaced at himself for trying to imagine it.

You're such a hypocrite.

Jake saw the lights flash in the rear-view mirror before he heard the short warning alert of the car's siren. The blue was the brightest, covering almost everything Jake could see from inside the truck. It was overwhelming to say the least to be entrapped in such a rush of unexpected light—it sent Jake's heart racing quicker than a fight ever had. The reassuring blue and white from earlier in the night had never seemed so daunting until now.

No. Not me. That has to be for somebody else.

It startled Connor, pulling his arm back from the window as he carefully glanced behind him to look at the police car that had come to follow them quite closely now. He seemed much more calm, almost treating it as a minor inconvenience instead of the colossal fuck-up that Jake was starting to let sink in.