That would be guaranteed to potentially get a scream out of her though, and then her mom could alert the cops. It’s game over then.
My thoughts swirl, mixing the past Rue with the present version of her. It’s the kind of dreamy shit I could get lost in, thinking about those pretty eyes, her soft expressions, and the way she always looked at me like I hung the goddamn moon.
And I saw a glimpse of that when she peered down at me from the edge of the ravine.
That’s dangerous to assume,my mind warns me.She did this to you.
I chew the inside of my bottom lip, and finally peer out into the front yard of the Iverson’ place.
And I stop. Full fucking stop.
My mind stops. My body stops. And I have a moment where I can’t fucking do anything but stare at the unmarked black SUV parked in the Iverson’s driveway. Iknowthat damn thing doesn’t belong to any law enforcement in this town.
My eyes jump from the car to the house, and then back to the car.
It could be about something else,I tell myself. But the thought doesn’t sink very deeply as the front door swings open. Dread weighs down my chest as I read the back of the two men’s shirts.
U.S. Marshals.
“Shit,” I whisper under my breath, my heart beating unevenly.
Did she call them on me? Would she really go that far to avoid fucking accountability for what she did? Maybe there isn’t any ounce of the old Rue left in her.
I stay hidden in the woods, as the men make their way down the front steps. I expect them to lift their radios or open up the back and let the dog loose, or… something.
I hold my breath, preparing to run, but they just climb into the front seat.
The engine comes to life, the car backs up, and then it’s as if they were never there at all, tail lights disappearing in the thick fog.
I let out a breath, and then shift my gaze to the front porch, where Rue still stands, her hand over her heart. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, and I wonder what she’s thinking…
And just how I want our worlds to finally,fullycollide.
17
RUE
I stareat the full bowl of stew sitting in front of me, untouched. I can’t bring myself to even imagine an appetite. Reality, as it turns out, is very much the way my brain has been seeing it.
“You walked in that door earlier, looking like you’d seen a ghost,” Mom says, shifting her wheelchair to look at me. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I snap. “Maybe it’s because I just found out after all these years someone who actually fucking mattered to me took the fall for something I did. I’d say that’s pretty fucking mind blowing, given I hadn’t seen him in years.”
“You didn’t know him anymore. He was in a stupid biker club.”
“So was Matthew,” I set my spoon down with a clatter. “And I cared a lot about Noah, even if I’ve intentionally tried to forgeteverythingabout this fucking place.”
Mom cocks a brow, totally unmoved and mocking. “So, it only matters who paid the price now because youknewhim? That suddenly makes it moretraumaticfor you?”
Shame spins in my chest, but I shake it off. “I hope they don’t find him.”
Mom laughs dryly. “I bet they do.”
I shove my chair back from the table, the jarring movement causing stew to spill over the edge of my bowl. I let out a frustrated sigh, and then pick it up from the table, pausing to peer out into the night. The porch light flickers in the wind, casting strange dark figures across the yard, looking as though they’re dancing.
“I think I’ll put myself to bed tonight,” Mom clips, suddenly able to use both arms to roll her wheelchair back. “You clearly need some time.”
Obviously.
