“Course they do. They’remine. Don’t go filching Saint’s.”
“Why not?”
“They’re too thinky.” Which was fucking odd, considering I had it on good authority Shoutypants used them to keep his headquiet, but whatever. I watched Ranger put himself back together, pondering what he’d done with my phone. “How was Vicky?”
Ranger opened the glovebox and snatched our last bag of sugar and additives. Tipped a mother-load of Jelly Tots into his hand and picked out all the green ones before he deigned to answer me. “His voice is fucking life. How did I not know that before?”
“Because you’re always together.”
“No, we’re not.”
“All right, but you’re never that far apart either.” I spied a fed car whizzing up the hard shoulder and held my breath for no reason whatsoever, letting it out as it sped past and not a fucking millisecond before. “And he was only gone two days when he went to get Lida, so this is new territory for you, Mr. Nomad.”
Ranger chewed on his gobful of non-green Jelly Tots. “He went dark then. I thought nothing would be harder than that.”
“Yeah, but it’s worse when you know you can go home any time you like and no one can really stop you. Harder to remember what the fuck it’s all for, you know?”
“Sounds legit.” Ranger kicked his boots up on the dash. Changed his mind and set them down again, already restless from the edible wearing off and the sugar kicking in. “That’s why I came, though. Cos I don’t like it when I can’t see him, or fuckingsmell him, and I need to know I can be apart from him without fucking dying.”
“If it helps, I panicked every time Nash wasn’t near me when my melon was in peak bastard mode. Kept crawling into bed with him so I wouldn’t die alone.” No lies detected, and if there was anyone who understood the death hammer of post-concussion pain, it was Ranger. “But it got better.”
He slid me an edgy glance. “You didn’t just swap Nash for River?”
“No, sir. My unhealthy dependence on Riv is a whole other thing. Also, I’m conditioned to need people. Grew up in a fecking rabble. Two sets of parents who didn’t know if they wanted to be a cartel or a commune. Barely had a wank on my own till everyone started dying—” Damn. Emotion got the better of me, like it always did when I thought of Lark and my folks. Of the O’Brians and everyone else we’d lost along the way.
I pursed my lips and focused on the looming motorway exit, ignoring an ominous clang from the wheel arch as we slowed and veered left. “Basically, I’m saying it’s not your fault being so attached to Vicky has you foxed. But you know the thing about foxes, Roo?”
“What?”
“They mate for life. Like pigeons. So however you’re feeling, get used to it—embraceit—cos it ain’t going anywhere.”
Ranger accepted my sager-than-sage advice with a grunt and passed me the Jelly Tots. I polished off the bag, tipping sugar crystals all over the fucking shop. Then it was time to concentrate, cos I wasn’t Locke or Decoy, or even Lord Nashie, and I still found manoeuvring HGVs a shit show, which made me wonder why Saint had been so insistent that rookie Ranger ride with me. Unless no one else had wanted to, which given my descent into sugar terrorism, I could hardly fucking blame them.
I steered the Bone Rattler into the truck park and claimed a bay with an empty space beside it for Mats and Decoy, our other trucks long gone.
Killing the engine eradicated the vibration plaguing my entire body and the respite pitched me forward, leaning me hard against the wheel. “Fuck a duck, I’m knackered.”
“You wanna eat?”
“Eat what?”
Ranger glanced around the truck stop, taking in the wealth of junk-food options that he’d still only eat nuggets and chips from. “KFC?”
“Kill me. Just kill me fucking now.”
“They do coleslaw.”
“They do death in cardboard boxes. Fuck my life, I’m gonna walk to that ASDA down the road.”
Ranger opened his mouth to argue, but a passing trucker caught his attention. “State of that cunt.”
“Oi. Don’t be rude—” My gaze fell on the heavyset fella mooching past, St. George’s tats for days, and the outline of a legitimate swastika lurking beneath his sweat-stained tee. “Yeah. Okay. He’s a cunt.”
Ranger was already reaching for something to throw.
Should’ve stopped him.
Didn’t.