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My life must be cash only, no friends, no services. I couldn’t work after the baby arrives because I would need a babysitter.
So there goes any money.
Shit.
I have about seven months to figure something out.
Hurrying toward my cheap, barely running, thousand-dollar car, I shove my key into the driver’s side lock, turning it before I tug the door open, then sink down into the seat, and slam the lock down before sliding the key into the ignition.
Looking around again, I try to see if I can catch anything out of the ordinary. I can’t find anything out of place, or ratheranybodyout of place. With a heavy sigh, I shift the car into reverse, then head toward my motel where I’ve been living this week… well, where I’ll be staying until I think he’s close to me.
Judging by the way the hairs on the back of my neck are sticking up, I’ll be moving sooner rather than later. Because if he’s not hereyet, he’s close. I can feel it.
Once I arrive at the hotel, I scan the area. The parking lot is empty, save for one small car parked in a dark spot in the corner. I don’t stop. Not with that car parked the way it is. It could be the front desk employee, but it could also behim.
Instead, I drive right past and keep going. I only had toiletries in that hotel room anyway. I learned a long time ago that I don’t need to unpack my car at all when I’m on the run.
Dusk turns to night, and the songs on the radio shift to more commercials than songs, and I catch myself thinking of Agony as the never-ending road in front of me continues on. He was drunk when I last called. Maybe I should try contacting him again and tell him the truth, tell him about the baby—tell him that I love him.
I reach for the phone in the passenger seat, biting the corner of my lip, and suck in a breath. I decide against calling him. I don’t think I can do that again. What if Thunder is there? What if it’s someone else?
What if he’s already moved on?
My heart and head can’t take it. Instead, I call Kiplyn. She’s going to be so hurt and angry that I left the way I did, that I haven’t told her where I am or that I’m even alive. But I decide I can tell her a bit of why I’m running, at least a little anyway.
I’ll never tell her everything.
I’ll never tell anyone everything.
I touch the numbers on the screen, glad that I spent the time to memorize hers and Agony’s and press the send icon, then bring the phone to my ear while I continue driving. I’m on a lonely road, thankful there haven’t been any headlights close behind, but that doesn’t mean shit. I’ve seenhimdrive without them before, just to be undetected.
Just to torture me.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end of the line sounds not only curious but also worried. She knows it’s me, or maybe she’s hopeful that it is. I don’t blame her. I would probably feel the same way if my best friend disappeared for almost two months, and I hadn’t heard a single word about her. In fact, I think I would be pissed off at her, not just worried.
“It’s me,” I say, trying not to burst into tears.
Silence.
Then I hear a hiccup.
“Reese?” she calls out, her voice little more than a squeak.
“Kiplyn. I’m so sorry,” I whisper as tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I wipe them away so the road doesn’t turn blurry in front of me.
There is another long moment of silence before I hear her let out a heavy yet shaky exhale. “Are you safe?”
Safe?
That is a fucking complicated question. I’m not sure how to answer that. I suck in a breath, then let it out slowly. I decide to give her the only answer I can. The only answer that won’t make her send her husband, Roadkill, on a wild-goose chase to find me and bring me back.
“Me leaving was about me, nothing else. I want to come back. I wish I could right now.”
“Then come back,” she snaps.
She has no idea how badly I want that. No idea how badly I want to see her and everybody else. How badly I just want to go back to my life of a few months ago. I want it all, buthefound me.Hemade himself known, and because of that, I could not stay.
