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“Thank you,” I whisper.
37
Wynn
Lanston tossesmy black duffle bag in his trunk. His smile is loose and hopeful.
Mine is as well, oddly enough.
Our bags don’t hold much, but there’s something exciting about that.
We can start new lives in Boston. It’s so far away and different from here. Buying new clothes and furniture, starting fresh—it’s like a token to a new world.
Liam stands behind us with a blank expression.
He’s been so broken up preparing himself for our departure this last week, but it’s more than that. It feels like he’s pulling away emotionally for our sake. So we don’t see how much it hurts him.
We begged him to reconsider, to just come with us to Boston. Liam, in all his stubbornness, declined.
There’s no way Crosby can be all-knowing. He wouldn’t be able to find us that far away, would he?
I’m not so sure anymore.
“You two drive safely. No racing or any of that shit,” Liam mutters like a father would to his children. “Don’t text me the address until you hear from me that it’s okay. We can’t be too careful.”
Lanston stretches his hand out and Liam clasps it. “We’ll be careful. And we’ll see you soon.” They pull each other into a brotherly hug and my heart aches with the way Liam’s brows pull together in anguish.
None of this was ever fair.
Liam holds me so fiercely it makes me think he’s changed his mind, but he loosens his hug, kisses me softly, and lets me go.
Lanston leans forward in the driver’s seat and looks at the rearview mirror with excitement and anxiety flashing in his eyes. The windows are rolled down halfway; the chill in the air skips across my forearm and raises goosebumps.
“I feel like shit for lying to him,” Lanston says reluctantly, glancing over at me. I nod. Lying makes me feel like a traitor. Even if it’s to help the man I love.
What else were we supposed to do though? We couldn’t just let him face Crosby alone. He refused to let us stay. So we had to sneak behind his back and make plans without him. Plans that don’t include Boston and being on the East Coast.
“So do I. But it’s only temporary,” I say, more to reassure myself than him but it seems to work by the way Lanston’s shoulders relax.
We drive into Bakersville and park in the alley behind the studio house we were able to rent last-minute.
It’s not like everything we told Liam was a lie. We do have the apartment in Boston ready. Our motorcycles are on their way there, along with all our things from our storage units. My brother is seeing to it that our apartment is furnished with a bed for our arrival, which James is under the impression is this week. We had to lie to more people than I’d like, but if Crosby is truly keeping an eye on us, we need everyone fooled.
Lanston puts his Mercedes in park and frowns at the small space allotted for his car in the alley. I pat his shoulder as I walk past him to retrieve my bag from the trunk.
“It will be fine out here.”
“Says you.” He pouts, but the hint of a smile hides behind his lips.
I grin and toss his bag to him. He barely catches it. “Says me.” I laugh and brush past him.
The studio is more like a garage that’s been converted into a rental space. Actually, I’m positive that’s what it is. Not a shroud of a doubt. The walls are bare, tanned with years of someone chain-smoking cigarettes. Pretty gross, given that this is a furnished rental. The curtains are stained and the carpet has burn holes riddled throughout.
Lanston drops his bag on the couch and looks around with a frown. “Change of plans. Let’s go to Boston,” he quips and walks back toward the door.
I laugh, setting my bag down next to his. “And let Liam deal with his brother alone?”
He groans dramatically before winking at me.
