Page 70 of Shut Up and Drive

“Serafina,” he says with irritation in his voice, “where is my phone charger?”

I pick up the loaded sandwich I just made, take a big bite, and say, “Last I knew it was on the floor next to your suitcase.”

“Well, it’s not there anymore. Let me borrow yours.” When he sees my eyebrows raise at his demand, he finishes with a pathetic, “Please.”

I point to the kitchen counter where my cable is plugged into the wall.

He darts toward it, only to frown when he sees the connectors are wrong.

“Sera, what model is your iPhone?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s a few years old. Why?”

“Because my brand-new iPhone doesn’t fit the old cables. I need a USB-C, not a Lightning end.” He growls in frustration and wanders upstairs again.

The thumping and knocking sounds coming from the bunk room tug at my curiosity, so I wander up the stairs with a bag of Cheetos to see what he’s up to.

Everything has been dumped out of his suitcase, my suitcase, and every dresser drawer. Clothes are tossed all over the floor, my toiletries bag has beendumped on Thane’s bunk, and every nightstand and bed has been pulled away from the wall.

“Is this really necessary?” I ask, folding Thane’s clothes and placing them back in his drawer. That’s when I spot it: a round, flat skipping rock sitting in the corner by his socks.

I pick it up, running my thumb over the smooth surface. Bradley’s ranting fades into the background as the memories of that summer come crashing over me. In an instant, I’m back on the beach with Thane, adding another secret to our “things only we know” arsenal.

The drawer next to me slams hard, and I startle from my daydream.

“Were you listening at all, Serafina?” Bradley barks. “My phone is almost dead. My charger is MIA. Do you not care about my business at all?”

“Well, an hour ago you seemed so nonchalant about answering your messages and calls, I thought you were trying to turn over a new leaf,” I say with a shrug.

“I have to go into town and get a new cable—now.” His temper is hot and barely under control. I know if I don’t tread lightly, this could blow up really fast.

“Okay,” I concede. “Let’s go find the keys to the rental car and we’ll go.”

I look in all the regular spots that keys would be, but come up empty. After twenty minutes of searching the rest of the house for the rental car keys, I pick up my phone. I can hear the grin on Thane’s face when he answers.

“Heeeey, Fina,” he says in a devilish voice.

I bolt for the patio so Bradley doesn’t hear me.

“Nathaniel James Donnelly, what have you done?”

“Whoa, there. Don’t go using my full government name unless I’m inbigtrouble. What’d I do?” he asks.

“You tell me,” I seethe. “Bradley’s phone charger is nowhere to be found, and his battery is under ten percent. We need to go to town right now and buy him a new charging cable or he’s going to blow a gasket. Yet I can’t seem to find the keys to the rental car. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” I can hear him cover the microphone to stifle a chuckle, and I growl impatiently. “Thane! What did you do?”

“I’m not taking the sole blame on this one. Secret Service Agent Spencer is the mastermind behind this psychological warfare—not me.”

“You two are insufferable. I’m going to murder you both…” I threaten.

“You gotta find us first. Happy hunting!” He and Bash laugh like they did when they were teenagers, and Thane hangs up on me.

I’m fuming as I come back in through the sliding glass door.

“Do they know where the keys are?” Bradley asks as he’s flipping over couch cushions.

I know if I answer honestly here, there will be hell to pay. “Uh, no answer. Let’s just keep looking.”

I wander through the kitchen while Bradley searches every bag and purse hanging in the mudroom. When I lose sight of him, I slip into the pantry to stress-eat a cookie. I just need one Oreo to calm my urge to put Thane’s pillow over his face when he’s asleep tonight. I grab the package from the top shelf and very carefully slide open the wrapper. I’ve never noticed how loud the packaging for Oreos isuntil I’m trying to sneak one in stealth mode. I cringe as the plastic crinkles, and I pause in the quiet, waiting for Bradley’s footsteps to approach. After a few seconds of stillness, I rip it open the rest of the way and groan. There, inside the last place Bradley would look—and a spot that sends a message loud and clear to me—are the keys to our little rental car.