Page 75 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

She glanced over her shoulder and nodded, knowing exactly where I was headed. “See you tomorrow.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mom. Thanks for cooking.”

“My pleasure.” Mom’s expression was a mix of hope and worry—though not for me. Mom loved Gemma too. And she was counting on me to make this right.

But what if the only way to make it right was to let Gemma drive away?

She’d break my heart but I’d stand back and watch her go.

It would hurt us both far more if I had to watch her fade away simply because I’d asked her to live the life I wanted.

“You’re leaving already?” Liz asked, following me to the door.

“Yeah.” I took my coat off the hook and shrugged it on. “It’s been a long day and there’s always work tomorrow.”

“It was nice to see you.”

“You too. I’ll stop by the bar one of these nights and beat you at a game of dice.”

“Ha.” She huffed. “You wish. When was the last time you beat me? Six? Seven years ago?”

I chuckled. “To be fair, you get more time to practice.”

“True.” She smiled. “Are you just going home?”

Eventually. But first, I had to make a stop at the cabin. “Yep,” I lied and zipped up my coat.

Liz stepped close, too close, and traced her finger up my arm. “Want some company?”

Well, shit.

“Look, Liz, I—”

“Don’t say it.” She cringed and stepped away, slapping a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. We’re friends. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. I just don’t feel that way about you.”

She met my gaze, her own screaming why?

“I’m with someone.”

Her forehead furrowed, then her eyes went to the door and the space where Gemma’s Cadillac had been parked. “Oh, it’s Gemma, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we forget this happened? Please?” she pleaded.

I nodded. “Sure.”

“Thanks, Easton.” She took another step away. “See you around.”

“See ya, Liz.” We both knew I wouldn’t be in to play dice. Even if Gemma wasn’t in the picture, even if Gemma hadn’t captured my heart, Liz would only ever be a friend. I wouldn’t lead her on. Hell, maybe I’d been leading her on.

Once again, Mom was right.

When it came to women, I was thick as a brick wall. Someday, I’d remember that my mother was always right.

I slipped outside without saying goodbye to the others. Tomorrow, I’d run into town and get Mom and Grandma flowers for all their work, but tonight, my gut was yelling that something was wrong with Gemma and it wasn’t a headache.