My gut’s heavy when I get out of the truck and head over to the SUV. “Y’all are right on time,” I tell the security people, after they’ve shown me ID. “Let’s get my wife to a safe place, okay?”
They watch her with a little too much interest as she walks over. I give them a hard stare and a split second later remember that I’ve got no claim on this woman—not even a fake one.
They nod through greetings and explanations with Twyla, who appears totally unfazed now. Cool as a goddamn cucumber.
Once she’s slid into the backseat of their car, I put up a hand. “Give us a sec, y’all.”
The two men back away. She flashes me a narrow-eyed look. Of course she resents me. Hates me. It’s not like I don’t deserve that.
“All right,” I lean on the open door, careful not to box her in. “I guess this is it.”
She nods and looks away, probably wishing me gone already.
Regret rushes in to swamp me. “Hey, Twy, listen.” I bend and lower my voice. “I’m sorry. Truly.” A real husband would reach for her hand or something. Goddamnit, I want to, but everything about her body language is telling me to back the hell off.
“Are you?” Her eyes meet mine, huge and dark, her expression shifting somewhere between hurt and accusatory.
“Of course. I didn’t mean for… I’m sorry it happened.”
She snorts. “Sure you’re not just sorry you were caught?” Oh, there’s the anger again, sharp and bright.
“I mean it. I fucked up. Problem is, the shit’s only just hit the fan, it’ll get—”
“Shittier?”
“I’m sorry. Truly.” I want to grab her hand or hug her, but she’s so prickly, she’d probably bite me. Not that I’d mind. “Anything you need, I’ll make sure you get. Anything.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes search my face, maybe looking for something redeemable in my expression. Apparently coming up empty, she turns to the security team. “I’d like to get a rental car, please.” She reaches for the door as if I’m not here.
I close it for her, nod at the driver, and watch them take off.
Minutes later, I’m back in the truck beside Liev, going west on 66, windows wide open, damp early summer wind blowing through my hair, like the first taste of freedom.
Only tonight it’s not like that. I swallow. Tonight, it’s like something’s missing. Like Kink Camp’s not where I’m supposed to be headed, although I know for a fact it is. It’s my escape every single summer. The one place I’m real. Me.
“Want to turn back?” Liev asks, not looking my way.
“What? No. No. Why would I?” I stare out at the quickly changing landscape, where buildings and houses and intersections give way to woods, low rolling hills growing steadily in the distance. “Easier this way.”
He shakes his head and sighs.
“What?”
“Easier’s not always better, man. You know that.”
“It is in this case,” I say. And then, as if I’ve got to convince him—or someone—I go on. “It absolutely is.”
5
Twyla
I’m finally alone.
An hour later, I drive out of the rental car lot, follow the first highway sign I see, and take a random right, which leads me south. Fine. South, north, whatever. I just need space. To cry, maybe yell a little, feel sorry for myself in privacy, and then figure out what comes next.
My phone’s been blessedly silent for a while now. This doesn’t seem like a problem until I reach into my purse and come up empty, check my computer bag. No phone there either. Uh oh.
Panic starts to build.
