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No response. She’s shutting down on me.
I get us another ten desolate miles down the road before the truth is evident. We passed our last best hope for a pharmacy some thirty miles back.
She makes a token protest, groaning when I pull a U at the next exit.
The hill country we had left behind rises from the horizon, delivering spectacular vistas. Another day, another time, I’d be transfixed, but today, my heart is pounding, probably almost as much as Annalise’s. I can’t let anything happen to her. I owe it—
Do I? Do I really owe loyalty to a guy who betrayed my friendship and ascribed evil intentions to me?
No, but I do owe Annalise. Maybe to atone for the sin I almost committed against her, maybe as penance for another’s malfeasance.
And maybe because I like her and care what happens to her, plain and simple. Besides, it’s the human thing to do.
Almost an hour after our retreat back to civilization, I find a giant discount store with a pharmacy. “Why don’t you give me the scripts and your insurance card. I’ll run in.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll go.”
“There’s no need. Stay here and rest.”
“No, I need some…things.” She looks out the side window.
“Okay, I’ll get those, too. Just tell me what they are.”
“No.”
“Annalise, there’s no need for you to go inside.”
“I can walk, Marco.”
“Barely.”
She whips around and glares.
“Come on. Give me your stuff and tell me what you need.” I stretch out my palm and wiggle my fingers.
“You’re going to regret this.”
“I seriously doubt it. Now give me.”
“Fine. Hand me my bag.”
I do, and she slaps the prescriptions, insurance card, and a fair amount of cash into my waiting hand. “I’ll text you my list.”
Annalise
Serves him right, the arrogant jerk. He asked for it, he got it.
Of course, he’s right. I think a turn through the giant supercenter would do me in, but I can’t wait to see how well his cocky self does buying feminine hygiene products.
Ugh. I press my hands to my face, heating though I’m alone in the truck. I mean, I sent Tripp on a similar errand once when I was a teen and he was home for a rare visit. That was hilarious. This? Not so much.
I curl into the only comfortable position I’ve found, nestled against the door and seat. Any other time, I’d browse my phone, but I’m so, so tired. Besides, I prefer at this moment to pretend the outside world doesn’t exist. Today, denial is my friend. Reality hurts way too much.
The clicking of the locks wakes me from a slumber. Marco is on approach, grinning like a cat, a plastic bag swinging from either hand. He opens his door, leans in, and swings one bag at me. “This is your medication.”
I catch it and bring it down to my lap.
“And this…” The smirk grows. “This is your—.”
