First of all, he’s forty years old, never worked a day in his life, and still lives with his parents. But more importantly, he’s a complete sociopath. He even pretended to be nice at first. Acted like he’s sympathetic to my plight. Sweet girlhaving to marry a man she barely knows, one who’s fifteen years older, one she definitely doesn’t love. But maybe it could grow into love, he said. He was nice and attentive, and hid the coldness in his gaze well. But his understanding quickly eroded when I didn’t just melt into a puddle from his well-practiced charm.
Thomas’s hands started gripping me a little too hard, leaving bruises behind. He stopped hiding the sneers aimed my way when I said something he didn’t approve of. All around, he started acting like the jerk he really is.
Which brings me to here, running away from the sham of a rehearsal dinner our parents coordinated, clutching the ridiculous dress they stuffed me into as I sprint toward the stables in hideous, uncomfortable heels. Thank God Bonnie, my lovely palomino horse, was brought here today. She saved me in the past, taking me away from my parents’ criticism for a few hours at a time. Today, she’s going to take me away from a marriage I know would turn violent before the guests even left the reception.
I burst out of the overgrown house, my heels smacking against the tiles, staff giving me surprised looks as I whizz past.
Sayonara, suckers.
Ugh, I should’ve stolen one of the Westons’ golf carts. Or skipped dessert. Or taken an occasional Zumba class. I’m way too out of shape for this escape.
I skid around a corner, entering the stables, and head straight to where they stored my tack. Thomas said barrel racing is beneath his wife, and that he doesn’t see why I would need to keep a horse. I instantly had horrible visions of waking up one day to him telling me gleefully how he sent my precious baby to the glue factory.
Swallowing down bile, I grab my bridle and saddle, carrying them to Bonnie’s stall at the far back.
“Hello, darling,” I croon to her when she spots me. Her soft snout nudges my cheek, tickling me with her expelled breath. Despite everything, she makes me giggle, and I stop to give her a loud kiss. “We’re making a run for it, Bon-Bon,” I tell her as if she understands. Sometimes I think she does, though.
I don’t think I’ve ever saddled a horse this fast, and soon I’m pulling myself up. Well, I try to, at least. The dress won’t let me. Growling in frustration, I grab the hem and try to rip it. All I do is give my palms fabric burns. I look around and see a nail poking out of the side of the stall. It makes me so mad that Bonnie could have hurt herself on it, but she’s leaving, and I’m going to take advantage of it.
After using the sharp nail to give my dress a couple of pleats, I finally haul myself onto Bonnie’s back.
“Here we go, baby girl,” I whisper. “Time to wake up from this nightmare.”
I realize I have no idea where we’re going to go. But the Weston estate lies right next to a national forest, and they won’t be able to find us there. I’ll think of a way to access my trust fund and start a new life somewhere once we’re safe.
My almost-husband exits his almost-a-castle just as Bonnie’s hooves start pounding the dirt path leading to the treeline.
“Stop her, you incompetent idiots!” he yells at the stable hands milling around.
I glance behind me to see him pull a pistol out from his waistband.
What the fuck?Why did he take a gun to a wedding rehearsal dinner?
“What are you doing, Weston?” my father screams at him, aghast. “You will not aim that anywhere near my daughter!”
Finally, he does something right.
Thomas’s fading growl of frustration brings a giant grin to my face.
Thwarted by the dumb blonde.
When Bonnie and I enter the forest, it feels almost like someone threw a blanket over us. Outside sounds get muffled, and it’s only hooves and birdsong. A mere fraction of the sunlight that was beating down on us just a minute ago makes it through the dense canopy to the forest floor, making the world a whole lot darker than before.
I reach down to pet Bonnie’s long neck, soothing her. Or perhaps myself.
“We need to keep going,” I say out loud. “They’ll come after us with ATVs and hunting dogs. We need to… cover our tracks.”
I remember looking at the estate via online maps and how I noted a stream not far from the border, flowing through this forest. That’s our goal.
“We’ll cross the stream, maybe walk down the middle of it, if possible,” I decide, sharing my plan with my partner in crime. She neighs in return. “I know, right? Genius.”
Five hours later, my stomach is trying to eat itself, and we’re moving a lot slower than when we started. I hopped off to give Bonnie a break from my ass, though I haven’t dared to stop moving altogether.
“I don’t want to have to eat bugs and leaves, Bon-Bon,” I whine. At least I found a forest spring not long ago and could have some clean water. But what if that was pure dumb luck? What if I get lost for days, maybe weeks? “I’m so screwed,” I whisper dejectedly.
Like a sign from heaven, a ray of sunlight comes through in a small clearing, illuminating a large modern-looking forest cabin.
It’s big. Not mansion-big, but definitely whoever-lives-here-has-money big. The exterior walls are smooth, darktimber, well-maintained, with no sign of rot or peeling. The forest tried to creep up on it, some moss growing over the stone foundation, wildflowers growing in the cracks.
