I claim the chair closest to him. “Let’s go home.”
The engine hums, the RV rocking and shaking as we navigate back to the street.
Heading back home. Back to impossible plans and a normal that feels like a threat. Glancing around the RV, I’m not the only one feeling fear. It’s written in RJ’s pursed lips, in Trips’ glare out the window, in Clara’s fingers dancing across her thigh, and in Walker’s deep sigh as he turns north.
It’s time. But there will be a price.
Hopefully, we can pay it and get on with our lives. Maybe it’ll be as easy as rescuing Paula’s sister from her husband. So easy, we wonder if we made a mistake and didn’t notice.
I swallow down the fear and lean back, needing to lighten the mood. “I call first dibs on Clara’s bed at home.”
RJ and Walker sputter out a laugh, Clara incredulous. “That’smybed, you thief.”
“I’ll let you join me if you ask nicely,” I tease, knowing if anyone is going to begging, it’ll be me, and we’ll both love every minute.
“Right. We’ll see about that.”
Goal achieved, I plop my cowboy hat on my head, tilting it down to hide the buzz under my skin from everyone.
Because we’re going home. And that’s not a good thing.
Chapter 40
RJ
Pulling up to the house is like time traveling back a year, but arriving as a different person.
Summer acted as our caretaker while we were gone, and seeing the van parked around front, and Jansen and Walker’s cars parked out back, the humidity weighty and uncomfortable, clinging like a wet sweatshirt against my skin, I’m drowning in unknown expectations.
This was the past. This belongs to a time when we were still pretending to be students, pretending we weren’t swimming in deep waters, pretending we could weasel our way into the shadows of the world and not get bitten by the darkness.
And we failed.
Almost eight months ago, we ran in the middle of the night, blood soaked and confused. Wearing trauma inside and out like another layer against the cold. But with the sun high in the sky,the birds whistling familiar songs from the trees, the scent of exhaust and wood duff, freshly cut grass and a pending storm, it feels like a dream.
Or more like a nightmare.
The silence in the rental truck we got in New York, the RV wiped down and abandoned there with its original plates, is weighty.
None of this fits anymore. We’re not the people we were.
I glance at Clara, sitting beside me, her hands fisted in her lap, her dark eyes harder than stone.
These next few months, they’re going to make us or break us. We decided we’re not running again, no matter how hard it gets. And I know a big part of that is because of my situation. I wish I had no attachments. I wish I could disappear and have no one miss me. But it’s been hell to not see Trish and Jade. I miss the quick squeeze Mama gives me when I come in the door, and the rough chuckles of Pops from the other room.
And Jansen’s in the same boat, his green eyes pinched around the edges the closer we got to home.
My family half expects me to not keep them in the loop. I’ve always been working on my own projects, lost in my own plans and worries. But Jansen’s the kind of close with his family that shouldn’t have survived the number of lies he’s had to tell. And this was a big one.
Fluffington pounces into Clara’s lap, and she brushes a slow hand down his back. “Are you guys ready?” she asks, not looking away from the back of the house, the lawn freshly mowed.
“No,” Walker says, his sketchpad open on his lap, his pencil tapping against the page. “We could still run, you know.”
But Trips, of all people, is the first to push to his feet, throwing open his door. “It’s time to end this.”
It breaks the trance, and with varying degrees of conviction, we get out and collect our stuff from the back, Walker shaking Jansen awake in the far back bench seat.
The air in the house tastes stale, but it’s clean, Summer obviously taking her caretaker responsibilities seriously. She probably hired it out, but still, it’s nice to have a clean space.
