“Hannah!”
Shit. That’s Craig. I’d know that nasally, irritated tone anywhere.
I start panic-sweating. Before I can decide what to do, the engine starts.
And I’m whisked away.
I just ran away from my own wedding.
And even though my entire life is now completely screwed up, I can’t stop a smile from spreading across my face. The wind whips my cheeks as we pick up speed, and I have no clue where my getaway driver is taking me.
But for the first time in my life, I relaxed and feel free.
Chapter Seven
Maverick
I pull away from the curb and honk the horn as I wave to Colt, Dylan, and Chance standing on the sidewalk. Saying goodbye is always tough. But, as I press down on the gas, I start to whistle. Because I am now officially on my way to the beginning of a—hopefully long—professional football career.
And this week, I get to be on the road. To think, to clear my head, and to do a whole lot of nothing. No commitments and no drama. I’ve got a two-thousand-mile drive ahead of me, and I couldn’t be happier to be all alone with just my truck for company.
I drive for the next hour. It’s dark by the time I reach the edge of the city, and the rain is starting. I’d heard it was going to pour buckets tonight and that there could be flooding. That’s what you get sometimes in California. But the forecast predicted it wouldn’t start until much later, so I thought I’d be well out of the city congestion in plenty of time.
* * *
Hannah
What started out as a little rain shower turns into lots of rain. Pouring rain. Just the kind of day I’m having.
I sink further underneath the tarp to stay dry. But…
“Shit!”
With a large gust of wind, the section of the tarp that’s protecting me blows off.
It takes me a few minutes to grab at it and pull it back over me. And I can’t cover up completely.
Soon, I’m soaked through. And freezing.
I pull my knees up into my chest and try to stop my teeth from chattering.
I can’t wait for this guy to pull over so I can jump out. I have no idea where I’m going to go, but anywhere will be better than the back of a pickup truck in a rainstorm.
* * *
Maverick
The rain is really coming down hard as I take my time getting through the outskirts of L.A. The wind has picked up so much I need both hands on the wheel to keep the truck in check. I turn off the freeway at a lonely exit with a sign for food, gas, and lodging. I can barely see through the windshield, which makes it tough going.
I let out a breath of relief when I see the lights of a gas station up ahead. I park underneath the overhang, hop out, and head for the convenience store to grab a coffee.
I’ve made it about ten steps when I stop and turn around.
I should probably make sure all my stuff stayed dry.
As I head for the back of the truck, a hand appears, and then a figure in white flashes into sight.
Someone’s inside my truck.
