His eyes dance, and for the first time since this whole thing happened, I feel like there might be a way out.
8
WILLOW
Tall pines line the road that winds through the mountains, their tops so high they seem to be almost touching.
We drive in silence as I try to process the events of the last few hours. It’s not even midday, but so much has changed.
This morning, I felt my only option was to run. Now, I have Hudson running with me, protecting me.
I peek over at him to see him staring at the road ahead. His clean-shaven, chiseled jaw twitches, and he turns to glance at me.
“Are you okay?” There’s real concern in his expression, no longer the harsh taskmaster I’ve known him as for the past few days.
“Yeah.” I let out a long breath. “I will be.”
I still don’t know why he’s here, why he walked out of the center to help me. I’m just grateful he did. I move to grab my phone to check my email before remembering I don’t have it. So instead, I wipe my hands on my thighs.
“You been into the mountains before?” Hudson asks.
I glance at the scenery surrounding us. The road has opened up to a mountain vista of rugged peaks and evergreen trees, so different from the concrete and grayness I’m used to.
“Never. I’m from the city.”
“Charlotte.” He names the city I grew up in, the city where, until recently, I lived in a rented apartment above a vape shop.
“How do you know so much about me?”
He flicks me a glance that makes my insides flutter.
“It’s my job to know.”
“As an ex-Navy Seal?”
“As a concerned citizen.” He keeps looking straight ahead, focused on the road. “I wanted to know who was coming to my town.”
He doesn’t say the rest; he doesn’t have to. In his mind, I’m still an offender. I broke the law, and that’s all that matters.
I shift in my seat so I’m angled toward the passenger window. It was stupid of me to think otherwise. I broke the law, and for some people, that will be all they see.
We drive in silence for another hour as the road winds deeper into the mountains. Eventually, we take a turn onto a narrow gravel road, and a few minutes later, the road ends in a clearing. Hudson stops the pickup, and I peer out the window at the wooden cabin in front of us.
It’s nestled among tall pine trees, and the mountains are visible through a clearing behind. Logs are woven together into a classicA-frame shape, and a deck runs around the perimeter. It looks more like a romantic getaway than a safe house.
“This is the safe house?”
Hudson checks his GPS. “This is the place.”
He slides out of the car, and I follow. My boots crunch over dead leaves and an icy crust that’s formed over a puddle. The air’s cooler up here, coming straight off the snow-capped mountains, and I pull my jacket around myself for warmth.
“I hope there’s a fire.”
The wood creaks as we go up the stairs to the narrow deck. A single chair sits outside, heavy with leaves and cobwebs. The place looks as if it’s been vacant for months.
After Hudson unlocks the door, I follow him inside to see it’s a one-room cabin with a ladder leading to a loft floor. A fireplace sits against one wall with a shag pile rug before it. A wooden coffee table and loveseat fill the living room space. A kitchenette is to the left, and a small table and two chairs are under the loft.
I drop my bag on the floor as I look around the small but cozy space. Everything has a layer of dust and needs a good shake out, but it’s cute.
