My mind scrambles for an alternative solution. I don’t know Ben, and I sure as Hell don’t trust him. But I’m not stupid. There is no way out.
“And if I say no?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“For now,” Ben says gently, “you don’t have that option.”
I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, exhaling through my nose.
“Fine,” I relent. “Where’s home, Ben?”
“Tennessee.”
My eyes snap open. “You seriously expect me to leave everything and everyone I know and move across the country?”
“If you want to stay alive,” he replies evenly.
I sit in silence, stewing.
God, this feels like a punishment.
But when they put it like that…
What choice do I really have?
Chapter 5
Ben and I have been on the road for two days, and I’m in a mood. This trip hasn’t exactly been what you’d call a bonding experience.
“Are we there yet?” I whine like a child.
I know I’m being obnoxious, but I can’t help myself. My life, as I knew it, is over, and I’m nowhere near ready to forgive or forget Ben’s disappearing act.
“We’re close,” he clips back.
What can I say? I haven’t been the ideal passenger princess.
I turn toward the window and watch trees blur past. Tennessee is so…green. Compared to Arizona, it’s like landing on a different planet.
Ben told me he lives with his wife, Maryanne, and her two sons from a previous marriage. They’ve been together for twelve years and never had kids of their own. The boys, Axel and Johnny, are eighteen and twenty. Axel, the younger one, is a senior like me. Johnny’s a full-time student at the local college.
Ben says he called ahead to let them know I’m coming. I’d kill to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.
Hey, honey! I’m on my way home. Oh, and surprise! I brought my seventeen-year-old daughter I never told you about!
Yeah. This should go great.
The houses thin out and disappear the further we head into rural Tennessee. Finally, we turn down a gravel road linedwith thick trees and wild underbrush. The crunch beneath the tires is deafening in the silence.
Five minutes later, we hit a clearing, and their house comes into view. It’s beautiful. Two stories, white siding with black shutters and a wraparound porch that looks straight out of a Southern Living magazine. Red door. Rocking chairs. Hanging ferns. If it had a white picket fence it would be the whole package.
I whistle under my breath. “Doing well for yourself, huh?”
Ben glances at me, trying to gauge whether or not I’m being a smartness. The fact that he can’t tell gives me a tiny thrill.
“Maryanne’s parents left us the property,” he says. “We built the house eight years ago.”
He parks, and I practically fall out of the car. When I stretch, I swear every joint in my body cracks. My legs and back ache. If I never ride in a car again, it’ll be too soon.
The front door opens, grabbing my attention.
