33
The truck’s engine sputtered, and Anna forced her eyes open. The castle’s concrete facade came into focus, and she pulled her head from the window. She squeezed the back of her neck, coaxing it to straighten, and glanced down at Spike’s head in her lap. “Spike,” she whispered, giving his shoulder a slight nudge.
A single eye squinted up at her. “I love you,” he slurred, and rolled to his side, hugging her calves as he nuzzled her thigh.
“Someone’s still high.” She glanced at Art in the mirror. “Help me get him in?” She slipped her hands under his shoulders and slid out from under him.
“Nooo.” He reached a hand her direction. “I want my pillow.”
“I’m coming.” She circled to his side of the truck and draped his arm over her shoulder. Art grabbed his other arm, and Spike stumble
