Page 63 of Knot What I Expected

Everything feels... charged.

Restless.

I understand the feeling. I climb behind the wheel, shove my key into the ignition, and turn it.

Click.

Sputter.

Nothing.

“No.”

I try again.

The engine coughs like a ninety-year-old chain-smoker.

“Come on, please.”

Another turn.

Another pathetic sputter.

Then silence.

“Shit.”

I drop my forehead against the steering wheel.

Of course.

Of freaking course.

Because why would Gabriella Santos ever get one normal afternoon? Why would I possibly think I could take my son shopping without the universe reminding me that my entire life is held together with duct tape, caffeine, and increasingly questionable financial decisions?

“Mommy! Mommy!”

I straighten immediately.

Matteo comes running out of the little place we rent with his little backpack bouncing against his shoulders.

And my heart cracks. Because I know what’s inside that backpack.

His favorite dinosaur.

The battered little action figure missing one arm.

His coloring book.

A handful of crayons.

Two small toy cars.

The things he considers most precious. He takes them almost everywhere.

I used to think it was cute. Then I realized why he did it.

My son knows what it means to run. There have been times when Ethan and his sick minions from the Suicide Cliff Wake came too close.