“Thursday.” That meant it was towel day, and her mom used a two-hour wash cycle for towels. “They have to be asleep by now.”
She exhaled slowly, then turned the knob with excruciating care. The hinge let out the faintest whisper of protest, and she froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. But when the house stayed silent, she eased the door open another inch, then another, until the gap was wide enough to slip through. She cocked her head to one side and listened before stepping out into the hall.
If I see someone. I’ll just say I’m hungry and getting something from the fridge.
She tiptoed through the house, stuffed her feet into the barn boots waiting by the back door, and eased the door open.
Her Jeep was where she’d left it, parked next to the barn. The keys were still in the ignition, just like always, because this was Scott County, and no one in their right mind would attempt to steal a vehicle around here unless they wanted to get up close and personal with a shotgun.
Please start.
Enya slid behind the wheel, gripped the key, the metal biting into her palm, and turned. The engine coughed, sputtered, then roared to life with a shudder that vibrated through the steering wheel. She flinched at the noise, her eyes darting to the house,but no lights flickered on, and the windows stayed dark. She didn’t dare turn on the headlights yet.
Please let Daddy stay asleep.
Please let Daddy stay asleep.
She repeated the silent prayer in her head as she kept the wheel steady, her hands clenched at ten and two, and eased the Jeep down the drive. When the tires hit the smooth surface of the county road, she reached for the headlight switch and flipped it on with a trembling finger.
The sudden glare was blinding, and she squinted against the onslaught. Her vision swam for a heartbeat before her eyes adjusted. According to her phone, she had less than two hours to travel; she’d be there before five AM. She hoped.
I don’t think this was what Daddy was hoping would happen when he sent Rain away.
But she couldn’t worry about that now. She had to focus because if she got in a wreck, she’d be more screwed than she already was.
Two and a half hours later, she was lost. No matter how many times she told herself it was a little further down this road, she was totally and utterly lost. She swung a right at the next junction and tried to talk herself out of everything. She should just give up and go home to bed and pretend tonight had never happened.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
Coming here was stupid.
These people are going to think I’ve lost my mind.
Turn around and go home.
She sobbed, but it emerged as some kind of weird half-laugh. Who was she kidding? Most of the time, it felt like she had lost her mind. What had happened to her had stolen everything from her…her happiness, her drive, her soul.
Beeeeep.
“Oh.” Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she swerved back onto her own side of the road, and into the opening of a ranch gate. She squinted up at the sign. “T-bar-T.”
Wrong one.
A wave of frustration washed over her, so sharp and bitter it made her gasp. She slammed her palm against the steering wheel. The muted thud was unsatisfying. Tears pricked at her eyes, hot and useless. She hit the gas, the engine roaring in protest as the Jeep lurched forward.
She didn’t remember the drive from the main road taking this long. She had been here once before, years ago, a teenager giddy with the prospect of buying the most promising colt her father had ever seen. She and her parents had followed a man in a dusty farm truck down this same road. She remembered her father’s easy confidence, the way he navigated the unfamiliar turns as if he’d been born to them.
Daddy probably didn’t get lost three times.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
The thought was a dull, repetitive thud against the inside of her skull, keeping rhythm with the lonely thump of her tires on the cracked asphalt.
Coming here was stupid.
They’re not going to give me Rain back.
He needs you.
