I toss the money back at him. “I’m paying for the food since you’re paying for the fuel.”
He shakes his head. “No. That’s not how this works.”
I open the door, shutting it quickly, before I reply with my arms crossed, “It’s exactly how this works.”
I back away quickly before Milo decides he can chase me down.
When I step back out of the convenience store, I pause and watch as Milo washes the windshield. He’s intent on the chore, and I know that because he’s slightly biting down on his tongue. It’s strange how ten years can change a boy to a man, muscles andwrinkles more defined, and yet . . . some things really don’t change. Some things survive choices. Some things outlast time.
I slowly make my way to him. “Got your favorite.”
His eyebrows arch. “What’s that?”
“Roller taquitos,” I answer.
He laughs. “Back when I had a gut of steel.”
I lift the left side of my mouth in amusement. “Oh, so you’ve gone weak?”
“Not weak, just smarter,” he defends. “I treat my body a little better now.”
“Okay then . . .” I trail off, taking a taquito out of the wrapper. Then I slowly take a small bite, fluttering my eyelids before I begin making dramatic moans.
Milo quirks a brow at me as he puts the squeegee back into the water.
“I guess these are all mine,” I say, taking another bite.
Milo starts to walk around the truck. I hurry and open the passenger door, sliding onto the bench seat, but before I can close myself in, Milo’s hand grabs the door, keeping it open. “You said those were mine,” he says.
“Werebeing the key word,” I tease as I go to take another bite.
He swipes the taquito from my hand, all of it disappearing into his mouth with a smirk. He chews and then swallows.
I laugh. “Well?”
“Tastes like cheap gas station food,” he says, and then adds, “And it’s amazing.”
I think he’s going to shut the door and leave, but instead he leans in closer, the scent of aftershave brushing up against me as he very slowly takes my seatbelt and buckles it around me. My heart feels heavy as it slams against my chest so hard, I’m sure he can hear it. He lingers, his hand resting on the seat beside my thigh. Then I feel something. I glance down to see him slipping the twenty into my pocket. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his smile against my ear.
Then he stands, grabbing the wrapper with the other taquitos, and shuts the door.
When he gets in on his side and starts up the engine, he turns to me. “Ready?” he asks.
I nod, the air in my lungs still stunned.
I’m ready, but for what? I guess I’m about to find out.
29
SADIE
Milo turns into a motel.Stars replaced the sun three hours ago, and I can feel the weariness in my bones from not sleeping the night before when I was buzzing with excitement of getting in his truck with no plans but to leave Dusty Hollow.
According to the GPS on Milo’s phone, we’ve got a little over five hours left on the road tomorrow to arrive in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.
“I’ll get us a room. Two beds,” he says as he gets out of the truck.
I nod and then lay my head back, already thinking about a warm shower and a fluffy pillow. “Thanks.”
