Page 80 of Tanner

Tanner had chosen seats near the boarding lane because he could see the entrance and most of the room without moving much. It also meant he could get to the bus fast when it came in. That had seemed smart twenty minutes ago. Now it just meant he was stuck with nowhere to hide and too many people passing close by.

Savannah sat on his lap with her rabbit pinned under one arm and one hand twisted in the front of his hoodie. She’d cried on and off the whole walk there, had gone quiet for ten minutes once he bought her a juice she barely drank, then started up again when she realized they weren’t going home.

“Home,” she whispered into his neck.

Tanner rubbed her back. “Soon.” The word came out too rough.

Savannah pulled back and looked at him with wet lashes and a blotchy little face. “Now.”

“Not now.”

“Want home.”

His swallowed hard. “I know.”

She didn’t, though. That was the problem. She didn’t know anything except that he’d packed bags, put her shoes on her, and marched her out of the house before dinner. She didn’t know what follow-up assessment meant. Didn’t know the difference between standard wording and a threat. Didn’t know why his body still remembered sixteen better than nineteen.

She just wanted home.

Tanner looked up at the departure board again. Seven minutes until their bus came.

He shifted Savannah higher on his lap and checked the room. Entrance doors. Ticket desk. Man in a work jacket with a duffel. Old guy asleep against the wall. Nobody looked at them for more than a second. That should have helped but it didn’t. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing no matter how much he tried to stop it.

Savannah followed his gaze to the doors. “Miles coming?”

Tanner swallowed. “No.” He couldn’t think about him. Not now that they were leaving.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s not.”

“Want Miles.”

He could still picture how Miles would have looked if he’d been there when the letter came. Calm and steady. He would have taken the paper from Tanner’s hand, read it, looked up, and said something reasonable. Something careful. He would have been right. That was the worst part. He probably would have been right.

Tanner didn’t need right. He needed Savannah where no one could assess her or take her away.

“Drink,” he said, pulling the bottle from the side pocket of the bag.

Savannah took two sips and pushed it away. “Home.”

He put the bottle back harder than he meant to. He’d done the right thing. He’d had to.

Four days was enough time for him to pack properly, but it also meant four days to think himself into staying. Four days to let people talk him around. Four days for someone to smile at him and say assessment didn’t mean anything bad. Better to move now and to get ahead of it.

He looked at Savannah’s face and felt something sink inside. Then why does this feel so bad? He shut that thought down fast.

A bus station was a step between places. He’d figure out where to stay for a night or two. Then another if he had to. Somewhere cheap. Somewhere no one knew them. Long enough for him to work out the next move.

He checked his cash again even though he already knew what was there. He didn’t have enough, but it was enough to start.

“Tanny.”

He looked at Savannah. She’d gone still in his lap in the way she did right before another round of tears. Her mouth trembled. “I don’t like it.”

His hand went to the back of her head at once. “It’s alright.”

“No.”