Page 30 of Quarter Miles (Runaway 3)

The absentminded, piercing whistle hissed from between his teeth. I’d stopped hiding my cringe.

Not that he’d noticed. Cash was stoically staring down the road.

“How far is it to Heron Beach?” I asked.

Cash entered it into his phone’s GPS. “About ten hours.”

Stupid quarter. Yesterday, the coin had led us backward. We’d gone south, but much

too far east, exactly the opposite direction of where we’d needed to head. The universe was conspiring against me.

We were in Idaho again, having recrossed over from Washington. Last night, we’d stopped before dinner and checked into a hotel on the outskirts of Boise. Rather than force us together for an uncomfortable meal, I’d told Cash I was tired from a long day of driving. We’d picked up sandwiches and eaten alone in our respective rooms.

I’d tried calling Gemma but she hadn’t answered. Neither had Liddy or Carol. So I’d found a movie on TV and gone to bed early.

Why had I thought this trip would be more exciting? Sure, the countryside was pretty. There’d been one stretch of highway that had been so shrouded by trees, it was like we’d driven through a leafy, green tunnel. But besides the occasional gas station break, when we loaded up on sugar and junk food, the repetitive miles had begun to take their toll.

“How was your night?” Cash asked. His sunglasses were on, shielding his eyes.

“Fine. Yours?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Fine. Watched a game. Crashed early.”

What game? Who won? Did you sleep okay? All questions I’d have normally asked before I’d made things weird. Now I was worried that if he made me laugh, if he made me smile, the wall would crack and he’d see the truth shining through.

I don’t love Cash.

Even I wasn’t buying my own lies.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said, taking a deep breath. “When we get home, I’m going to start looking for my own place.”

“What?” Cash shifted and slid his sunglasses into his dark hair. His hazel eyes were so colorful this morning, honey swirled with chocolate and sage. Even with the Cadillac’s top up, sunlight bounced off the golden flecks.

I kept my eyes on the road and my hands glued to the wheel. There was no way I’d get through this if I was looking at those eyes. “You need your own space. So do I. The roommate thing worked for a while but it doesn’t really make sense. We’re adults. We can live alone.”

“Is this about Dany?”

“No.” Partly. When he did find a woman who’d come to his bed, I didn’t want to be on the other side of the house.

Cash put his sunglasses on and his bearded jaw ticked as he stared forward. Mile after mile. Minute after minute. His lack of response made my heart sink, beat after beat. Didn’t he care? Couldn’t he pretend or slightly object or act like he’d enjoyed having me as a roommate for the past five years?

Finally, he said, “Okay.”

Okay. Ouch. His rejection was worse than the time my mother had taken a pinch of my skin between her fingers and twisted it so hard that I’d dropped to my knees and vomited. Then she’d made me clean up my mess.

I fought the urge to cry by biting the inside of my cheek. It was a trick I’d learned early on in life. If I concentrated on my teeth, on how my flesh felt pinched tight between the molars, the tears would disappear.

Crying wouldn’t get me anywhere. If I cried, Cash would take pity on me and pity was far worse than any form of heartache.

This was only a change. A shift in—hopefully—the right direction. Some space from Cash and we’d find a normal routine again. We’d go back to being friends. He’d start dating. Maybe I would too. Though the idea of any other man held no appeal but . . . someday.

I wanted a family. My own family. Kids who’d run around on the ranch through the green grass in spring and pick wildflowers from the meadows. A dog who’d trail behind them, keeping watch. A husband who’d let me curl into his lap on cold winter afternoons and hold me while the snow fell.

That man wasn’t Cash. The sooner I stopped picturing his face in that dream, the sooner I could open my mind and heart to finding love.

“How long?” Cash asked.

“How long, what?” I glanced at him, then back at the road.