An Angel Wears Hightops [A Sequel to The Devil Wears Girl Jeans]

An Angel Wears Hightops (Chapter 29)

“You know what we should do? We should go somewhere to celebrate your release. Where do you want to go? I'll pay to take you anywhere. We can take a trip to Europe or Egypt or something, any place you want.” I offered Dallas, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye as I pulled out into the intersection ahead of us. It was so nice to see him sitting in the passengers seat and not in a hospital bed, that it nearly brought tears to my eyes.

“Hartley, calm down. I just want to go home, and watch Ferris Buellers Day Off with you. I don't need some big fancy trip, okay? I just need you. And maybe poutine from that food stand down the street.”

“Sounds like a deal.” I told him, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel as we waited for the light to change.

“So. I'm going to have to meet my brothers tonight, eh?”

“Well, not really tonight... More like, oh, I don't know. Two minutes from now?”

“Wait, what?” he cried, looking at me in panic. Part of me felt bad for not telling him sooner, but at the same time, he was going to have to meet them eventually, right? Besides, if I'd told him we were going straight to Blake's house instead of going to mine, he probably wouldn't have gotten in the car in the first place.

“Sorry, bud. You'll be fine, they're your brothers, not rabid lions.”

“This is terrible, you're terrible.” he told me sullenly, scowling at me, “It's like when you tell your dog that they're going for a car ride so they get all excited and then you end up taking them to the vet instead.”

“Stop being such a drama queen.” I told him, pulling into Blake's driveway where a hooded figure was leaning against the porch railing, waiting for us. I got out of the car and walked around to the trunk to get Dallas's wheelchair, waving at Mickey as he approached us.

“Hey you.” he greeted me, unfolding the chair for me while I unbuckled Dallas from his seat, receiving a scowl in the process.

“Oh suck it up.” I told him, nodding for Mickey to wheel the chair over to where I was standing.

Together, we lifted Dallas out of the car and into his wheelchair, getting a string of profanities instead of thanks. The doctors had warned us that bursts of anger and frustration were to be expected, since Dallas wasn't really thrilled about the fact that everything had to be done for him, but that it would get better in time. Little did the doctor know, being grumpy and frustrated was all just part of Dallas's personality.

“Who're they?” he asked, motioning to the two figures draped over the couches as I wheeled him into the house.

On one end of the room, Blake was stretched out across the couch in his boxers and a t-shirt that had ridden up to reveal that little lightning bolt birth mark just under his ribs that I'd never quite been able to figure out. In the armchair across from him, Poe was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, swirling around some sort of liquid in the bottom of the bottle he was holding. Typical.

“The tall, scary one is Poe. He's your older brother, but he doesn't really do much. He just kind of sits there most of the time.” I told him. Poe just blinked at me in response. It wasn't even 4 pm yet, and I could tell that he was already drunk.

“What about you?” Dallas asked, speaking to Blake directly.

Blake just shrugged, and said, “I'm Blake. They just kind of live in my house and eat my food, so yeah. Welcome to the family, the fridge is to your left.”

“Free food, nice. I like it here already.” he told me, nodding thoughtfully.

Behind us, someone knocked on the door loudly, causing Poe to jump to his feet and nearly sprint to the door.