Maybe it’s just pure freaking dread.
Lights glint off my side mirror, and I squint into it long enough to recognize a big rig coming up on us. I double-check that I’m cruising three miles over the speed limit and stay in the right lane, knowing a speeding semi is going to blow past us.
Totally fine. Let him.
“You okay?” Noah asks the question as I let out a heavy sigh.
“Yeah, I just hate semis.” I don’t want to give him a shred of information about me right now—not after what he said to me.
But I can’t help it. Call it love. Call it attachment. Call it a debt.
He asks, I answer.
He peers over the backseat, catching sight of the big rig gaining on us. “Why do you hate semis?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. The lights illuminate the entire cab as the truck finally reaches us.
But they don’t move over to pass.
I swallow hard.It’s fine. It’s totally fine.
My eyes jump from the road in front to the rearview, as the truck closes in on the back end of my car. I press my foot into the pedal, pushing the car from three over to seven over.
“Just let him pass,” Noah says.
“I would, if he would just get over and go around me.”
But he—or I guess could beshe—doesn’t. They stay right on my ass, blinding me entirely. I keep pushing the SUV faster, now twelve over.
“Rue,” Noah’s voice comes out as a warning. “Just let him go around.”
My heart thumps against my ribcage like a caged animal. “He’s not going to go around! Do you not see that?”
“I’m not fucking blind,” Noah spats back. “But you just keep speeding up. He’s probably toying with you now.”
Irritation burns in my chest. “Would you rather drive?”
“I don’t have a license anymore,” he mutters. “Otherwise, I definitely would be. Just let the idiot go around you. If you go slow enough, he will.”
Why are you such an asshole?I want to yell at him, but I keep my lips pressed tightly together. And let off the gas.
The trucker blows his horn, and I jerk violently in the front seat, knocking my elbow into the console. Noah breaks into a chuckle.
And I try to ignore the humiliation suddenly blooming in my chest.
The truck veers into the left lane, then blows past us in a loud, rattling blur. My eyes follow the side of the empty cattletrailer, and then let out a breath of relief, as the truck dissipates into nothing but taillights.
Thank God.
But before my gaze even pulls from the rig, Bullet’s high-pitched bark and Noah’s voice shock me all over again.
“Rue! Watch out!”
Shit!I jerk the wheel, as a cottontail rabbit—and something much larger—darts across the interstate. I slam the brakes, but it’s too late. The front end of the car collides with whatever the big tan blur was.
And the sound of screaming metal is deafening.
19
