Page 80 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

He hung his head. “Yes, sir.”

Londyn’s hand came over mine as she shifted closer on the couch. She looked up at me, her eyes begging me to take it easy.

Maybe I would, but I certainly wouldn’t tonight. Vehicles were weapons. I’d taught that lesson to Wyatt many times, so why hadn’t he learned? And the vandalism? That was petty bullshit. I’d raised him better than that.

And as far as I was concerned, Wyatt wasn’t hanging out with Joe for the rest of his life.

“Go to bed,” I ordered. I’d already texted Moira what was going on. Thankfully, she’d always been in sync with me as a parent. We supported one another when it came to punishments for Wyatt.

She’d promised that while he was grounded at my house, he’d be grounded at hers too.

Wyatt stood from the chair, turning for his room, but before he walked away, he came over to Londyn, bending low to give her a hug. “Sorry.”

She patted his shoulder. “Good night, Wyatt.”

He sulked to his bedroom.

When his door was closed, I let my head fall back into the couch. “Shit. He did it for the right reasons, but damn. I don’t even know what to say.”

Londyn stayed quiet for a minute, then her hand flew to her mouth. I sat up, expecting tears. Instead, she had a fit of giggles. Her hand muffled the laughter, but her eyes watered.

“Is this really funny?”

She pulled herself together, swiping her eyes dry. “Do you think we should tell him I was turning around anyway?”

“Yes,” I muttered. “He needs to suffer for his stupidity.”

“But not too much.” She curled into my side. “His heart was in the right place.”

“Yeah.” He’d been thinking of his dad. He’d seen right from the start, before even knowing her, that Londyn was someone special. “I didn’t get your suitcases from the Cadillac.”

“I don’t think I need any clothes tonight, do you?”

Tonight. Tomorrow night. All the nights after that. “No, you don’t.”

We’d get her suitcases tomorrow, she’d unload them into my closet, and she’d stay. She might not realize it yet, but she was home. In Summers. In this house.

The next time she wanted to leave and find a new adventure, she’d have company.

We’d drive that runaway road together.

Epilogue

Londyn

One year later . . .

“I’m going to the store. Need anything?”

“No,” Brooks said from beneath a gray Chevy Silverado, where he was changing the oil. “Wait. Yeah, I need shaving cream.”

“Anything else?” I gave him a minute to think it over. I knew there was more. There was always more. The man never seemed to remember what he needed when I was making my list, but five minutes before I left for the store, he’d rattle off four or five items.

“Flossers.”

“And?” I swung the car seat at my side, glancing down at our daughter. Ellie Cohen was fast asleep, a binky dangling from her pink lips.

“Orange juice.”