Another excerpt from my new book, Random Acts of Crazy

  And another excerpt from later on in Random Acts of Crazy:

Darla

As Joe walked out, I realized this was the moment. I had to steel myself for it, I had to be strong, I had to make sure I didn't make a fool of myself so I did what I always do and I opened my mouth and I blurted out the stupidest shit possible.

“I would love to see you again, Trevor,” I said. “The next time you decide to eat a stupid shit amount of a mind-altering substance and travel naked six hundred miles, give me a visit.” Wink. Oh, God. I might as well have said “Y'all come back now, ya hear?” and thrown cornbread at him.

He smiled gently, his fingers touching my cheekbones, traveling down to the nape of my neck, making me want to blurt out all the wrong words, like I love you, like stay, like make babies with me, like take me with you, like write a song about me – and I was damn close to saying all of those things but he just leaned in and shut my mouth up by pressing his against it.

The kiss wasn't a goodbye kiss. It was more chaste than anything we'd shared over the past handful of hours and that's what finally made me cry because it was less about passion – which we'd had plenty of in handfuls and spurts (no pun intended) – but this was a kiss of sorrow, a kiss of regret, a kiss so sweet and endearing and apologetic and nostalgic that I could feel it ten years ago and ten years hence.

What was Trevor doing, giving me a kiss like that? Bearing his soul to me with his lips, with his tongue, with fingertips that touched all the crying parts in me, all the aching cells, the mourning skin, the sad, sad heart that beat just for him right now. Everything I felt was so melodramatic and gratuitous and carved out of a Darla that I liked to pretend wasn't there. Trevor made me real. Trevor made me come out. The me that I always imagined was there, undamaged, untouched by the years of wondering what if? What if Daddy hadn't died? What if Mama had been OK? What if I'd gone to college? What if my own what if – thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster – would never be what if I had just driven past the naked rock star by the side of the road?

I may be stupid and I may make foolish choices but that one...that one I would never regret.

Trevor's mouth pulled away and his eyes sought mine. “It'll be OK,” he said. “And of all the people in the world and of all the places in the world, Darla,” he leaned over and kissed my forehead and pulled back, that jaunty, sultry grin like warm chocolate. “The next time I decide to escape my own life, naked and ready for anything, I'll make sure I'm headed west.”

Joe ruined what would have been an absolutely perfect Hallmark moment – if Hallmark had a demented line of cards for shitstorms like this – by thumping up the steps and shouting, “My fucking car won't start!”

Something in Trevor's eyes was a little too mischievous for me to think that this was just a coincidence, but I kept my mouth shut. Trevor's eyes widened, real big like a little kid trying to lie, and then he let his muscles relax. It was very intentional, as if he were focused on trying hard not to look like a liar, which I'd been able to spot since I was a little kid.

He said, “Really? Well, that's weird,” and looked away.

“Shit!” Joe said. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Well, why don't you both go look under the hood?” I said. Four eyes lasered in on me as if I had just proposed that they preform a bowel resection.

 Coming soon! Watch for my New Releases email in the next few weeks!