Don’t meddle. You were only the Uber.
If Des said she could do this, I should be respectful and trust his judgment. Even if it was poor judgment.
Though I do have a packed duffle in the back.
Reese would be livid if I sprung this on her too. It would break the fragile alliance we formed today. Not to mention, I’d be stuck sitting next to an angry bear for hours.
And I have time off. I could camp anywhere, even in Texas.
This is insanity. Why am I even considering this? I should be reading my next audiobook or looking for apartments in LA. This is supposed to be a peaceful weekend, and Reese is anything but that.
But I can’t seem to drive away, my eyes still locked on her walking form.
Like she senses me, she glances over her shoulder and nearly stumbles when she spots my truck in the same space. Raising an awkward hand, she waves goodbye... though it looks more like a shooing motion.
Before I start the engine, an older man with an overstuffed hiking backpack approaches her from a side path, saying something that catches her attention.
I scramble across the passenger seat and smash my face against the window. Reese continues to walk toward the station but the man falls in line beside her, laughing at something she says before they both disappear through the entryway doors.
All my rational reasoning goes down the drain as worst-case scenarios play in my head.
I will never forgive myself if something happens to her.
The car behind me lays on the horn. “This isn’t long-term parking.Move.”
Oh, I’m going, all right.
I dig out my phone and navigate to the Greyhound page. The two-hundred-dollar price tag doesn’t even faze me. Every penny would be well spent and offer peace of mind.
“Over my dead body is she going alone,” I mumble and add a one-way bus ticket to my cart.
Chapter Seven
REESE
The strange man follows me all the way underground to the bus concourse, still talking nonstop. In fact, I’m not sure how he’s even alive since he hasn’t taken a breath in the last eight minutes. He appears harmless enough, and based off the length of his beard and overpacked rucksack, like someone who’s craving human interaction after months of roughing it in the great outdoors.
Even with all the subtle cues I’ve given him, he still drones on about his latest hike at Clear Creek Trail. Doesn’t he see I’m in the middle of a crisis? This is not the time for idle chitchat.
Tristen and I had some sort ofmomentoutside, throwing me off-kilter.
My mind continues to spiral, overwhelmed with unexpected emotions. His face invades my thoughts against my will. The man has no right to be this handsome. Like the Brawny man jumped off the paper towel packaging and ditched the plaid for black t-shirts that strained over his muscular chest. Thick black shaggy hair that is always mussed to perfection and soft enough that my fingers itch to run ahand through it. Not that I would admit that last part to anyone.
I press a hand over my chest, hoping to calm my fluttering heart. My precious self-control weakens when he is around—and apparently now when I think about him too. That’s a new development.
It’s confusing why I would feel this way about him at all. He’s Tristen, someone that’s been a staple in my life since I was a child. Yet, over time my attraction to him has grown to the point I can’t ignore it. The way he walks into the room and I know he’s there. Or how I can sense when he’s looking at me like some kind of weird sixth sense. Even though it drives me crazy when he hovers, I know he’d do anything to keep me safe. He’s witty, thoughtful, and accepts me with all my broken pieces.
When he looks at me, it’s not with pity like most people in Rocosa. He challenges me to do better because he knows I can. That’s the frightening part... knowing that eventually I’ll disappoint him just like everyone else. So, I’ve trained myself to stuff those mushy feelings deep down inside me like Pandora’s box and lock it up tight.
But when he dropped me off outside, for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was more than one sided, like Tristen had felt something too. And Pandora’s box rattled at the very thought, desperate to spring open.
No. I’m sure I must have imagined it.
I pick apart each gesture, expression, and phrase. His eyes held mine, more blue than gray, and glittering in the streetlights. It was like we had a physical string tying us together, one neither of us could step away from. Never has anything like that happened between us. The way his eyes kept dipping to my mouth, lingering on them until warmth spread through me, leaving me almost breathless. I wanted him to reach outand touch me, not in his usual gruff way, but gentle like I was something to be treasured.
Goodness.Where are these thoughts coming from? Treasured by Tristen? That sounds like a new shop on Main Street, not an emotional revelation.
I tug my suitcase along with extra force, ignoring the droning voice of the stranger next to me as he describes the benefits of using trekking poles. I scan for gate B3, surprised the underground bus terminal is similar to TV depictions of airport terminals. There’s even a departure and arrival screen on the wall, flashing between the gates and times.
