Page 65 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

It wasn’t a jealous question, more concern that another man was hanging out with his kid and he was just learning about it.

“A guy from Oak Hill. They mostly go out when I’m with you, but I’ve met him a couple of times. He seems like a good guy. He mellows Mom.”

“Hmm.” Brooks’s forehead furrowed.

“Did you consider it might not be her?” Ava asked. “I know you two have had a rocky relationship, but Brooks, I know that girl. And while I wouldn’t put it past Moira to do something foolish in the heat of the moment, that didn’t sound like a lie.”

“No, it didn’t.” Brooks ran a hand over his face. “Damn it. I’ll call her tonight,” he promised Wyatt. “I’ll make it right.”

Wyatt sighed, picking up his fork. “Thanks, Dad.”

“So . . .” Carter met Brooks’s gaze, then they both turned to me. “If it wasn’t Moira, who is vandalizing your car?”

Chapter Thirteen

Londyn

“What’s all this?” I asked Brooks. His kitchen island was piled with plastic food containers, each with the lid securely shut.

“A picnic.”

“Really?” I smiled. I’d never gone on a picnic before, not a proper one. The days at the junkyard when we’d eat on our laps in Gemma’s tent didn’t count.

Brooks walked to the large pantry off the kitchen and came back with a basket. It was a rich, tawny cedar with a red, white and blue plaid lining. The lids flipped up from the middle, one side at a time.

He owned an actual picnic basket. Why did that make me want to cry?

I looked away, blinking and swallowing away the emotion. I’d been on the verge of tears for hours. Tomorrow was Monday and I’d been letting my upcoming departure stain our day.

Brooks and I had spent the day together doing normal things any person did on a Sunday to prepare for a workweek.

We’d gone to the grocery store. I’d had to hide my quivering chin in the checkout line for no good reason other than we’d piled our stuff together on the conveyor belt. My bottle of body wash and toothpaste had been sandwiched between a bag of baby carrots and jug of cranberry juice. The cashier had rung it all up and Brooks had helped pack everything into his reusable grocery bags. I’d stood by, not listening as he’d chatted with her because I’d been trying to figure out why I’d been so close to crying. Was it the baby carrots or the blue grocery bags?

I’d analyze it later when I was on the road.

Just like I’d analyze why I’d gotten choked up in the laundry room earlier. I’d washed all of my clothes in Brooks’s machine today, preparing to pack them into my suitcases. When I’d poured the detergent into the machine, the scent of his clothing and bedsheets had brought out a miserable sting in my nose. One tear had actually escaped before I’d shut the others down.

It was definitely time to go.

Hopefully tomorrow my car would be ready too, and I could escape Summers before it became another cage.

“How did your call with Moira go?” I asked Brooks.

A crease formed between his eyebrows. “As good as expected. She’s pissed and has a right to be pissed. But she won’t stay mad at me forever.”

“That’s good.” I looked around the kitchen as he finished up. The smell of bacon hung in the air from this morning’s breakfast. “Where’s Wyatt?”

“He went to Moira’s.”

“Oh.” A sting laced my heart. Was he coming back? Or had I missed my chance to say goodbye? While Brooks and I had run errands today, Wyatt had been at home. He’d been on the couch in the living room, his eyes glued to his phone. He’d been in the exact same spot when we’d returned.

Then I’d left for thirty minutes to take my clean clothes to the motel. I hadn’t noticed his truck was gone when I’d walked back. “I guess . . . will you tell him goodbye for me?”

Brooks abandoned the basket and came around the island, wrapping me in his arms. “He’ll be back in the morning before football practice. He just went to stay at Moira’s so we could have some privacy.”

“Oh, good.” I relaxed into his arms.

“Come on.” He kissed me on my hair and let me go to collect the picnic basket.