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The fact that I’m even speaking to her about this is a mixture of my poor people skills and anxiety over everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours or so.
I ask to pay, and she leads the way to the cash register where she keeps shooting me pitying glances as she fills two large shopping bags with the stuff I bought. I already got him a pair of boots at another store, so I grab the bags as soon as my card payment goes through and rush out of the store.
The bags are very heavy and a sticky heat has risen now that the wind has stopped blowing, so I’m sweaty and out of breath by the time I reach my car that’s parked as far from the mall entrance as possible and across the entire parking lot.
He comes towards me as soon as he sees me coming, relieving me of most of the bags. He’s managed to button up the red plaid shirt, but the buttons are straining so badly I’m sure it’s only a matter of seconds before they start popping off.
“Is all this for me?” he asks in an exasperated but happy voice while I massage my fingers which are bright red and numb from the weight of the bags.
“Yes,” I say and leave it at that.
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever owned this much clothes at one time,” he says, peering into the bags happily.
I can’t help but smile at him and say, “Yes, well, don’t ever say I don’t treat you right.”
Even though I should just be saying goodbye.
He stops dead and looks at me very seriously, the bright white parking lot lights creating stars in his eyes. “I would never say that Harper. I hope you know that. You’re the only person in my life who has always treated me right. Even though I never deserved it. Not with the way I treated you.”
We’re in plain sight under the bright light in the nearly empty parking lot, the tacos we stopped to get from a sidewalk truck feel like a boulder in my stomach and I was supposed to be back at my first motel two hours ago to meet the men my father sent. He’s called six times already and I’ve been letting it go to voice mail, which means he might very well be on his way here with the cavalry as we speak.
“We can’t have this conversation now,” I say and stalk to the car. “You’re a fugitive and I’m late starting for my next tour stop in Idaho.”
I haven’t told him that I cancelled my next two performances because of my voice and my broken guitar, and that I might have to cancel a few more. He doesn’t have to know that.
I reach into my purse and pull out a stack of cash. “That’s two thousand dollars, the most I could withdraw from my account. And I also got you a burner phone. It’s in the bag with the shoes. There’s a train station just over there.”
I point in the direction of a copse of pine trees gleaming menacingly just beyond the edge of this parking lot.
He turns slowly to see where I’m pointing. “Well, you really dotted all your i’s and crossed all your t’s. But how about we sleep on this plan of yours to see me gone before the sun comes up?”
“My heart wants to say yes, Jax,” I tell him even though I probably shouldn’t. “But it’s not possible. Everything’s just always been stacked against us, hasn’t it?”
It’s hard to say these words in a calm, cold voice. They feel more painful than cramps.
“Yes, it has,” he says. “So that’s it?”
“That’s it,” I say and walk to the car.
But I don’t make it more than a two steps before I turn back and run to him, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him before he even has time to react.
He does react though, drops all the bags he’s holding to lift me up in the air and kisses me back like his life depended on it. Sometimes when he kisses me, I think it does. Or maybe that’s just me.
This kiss makes a lie of all those cold words of goodbye I just spoke. But that’s all right, I never should have spoken them.
Neither that nor this kiss changes the fact that they were necessary.
The men my father sent will grab him first and ask questions later. There’s no guarantee they’ll believe me when I tell them he’d never hurt me. It doesn’t look good that he escaped with the two Riders and I’m sure word of him threatening Hunter when we visited him in prison has gotten back to the MC by now. I know he’d never harm Hunter, but they wouldn’t take my word for that either. Everyone thinks he’s the enemy. For all I know, the men my father sent have orders to kill him on sight.
And there’s no denying the fact that he’s a fugitive now. He will have to spend his whole life hiding and looking over his shoulder. And he can’t do that if he’s with me.
Tears I hope he can’t see are streaming down my face once he finally sets me down and I’m running to my car. Because in another minute, I would’ve saidyesto spending the rest of my life hiding with him. Andnoto my dreams.
And for once he’s right.
I do deserve more than that.
* * *
