Bullet whines from somewhere near our feet, the dog shifting restlessly against the canvas camping chairs.
“It’s so dark,” Rue breathes into my shirt, her fingers clutching the fabric of my hoodie. I can feel her heart hammering against my ribs, frantic and irregular. The claustrophobia is getting to her.
Me, too.But I swallow it. For her sake.
“Close your eyes,” I tell her, my voice soft. “It tricks your brain. If your eyes are closed, you aren’t trapped in the dark… You’re just resting.”
She nods against my chest, but her grip on my shirt still tightens. “Do you think he’s going back east?”
“I don't know,” I admit, keeping my tone as level as possible. “We’re on a highway. That's all I can tell. But we aren’t getting out while we’re moving at sixty-five miles an hour, so it doesn’t matter right now.”
“What if he drives for hours?”
“Then we ride for hours.” I bury my nose in the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her vanilla shampoo mixed with the stale, dusty air of the compartment. “As soon as he stops and cuts the engine, we make a break for it…maybe.”
She sighs, nodding but not saying anything.
We sit in silence for a long time, the miles rolling away beneath us. The adrenaline from the near-miss with the Highway Patrol slowly bleeds out of my system, replaced by the acute, agonizing reality of our proximity.
I’m holding the woman I’ve spent the last ten years trying to reconcile the past with. She’s the woman who sent me to hell. But now…
I can’t let go of her for other reasons.
The heat of her body seeps through our clothes, warming the chill of the desert night. Every time the RV sways, her hips press against mine, a brutal reminder of what we did in the stolen SUV just a few hours ago. My body reacts instinctively, betraying the cold, detached act I’ve been trying to force on her.
“Noah?” she murmurs, her voice softer now, the panic giving way to sheer exhaustion.
“Hmm, baby?” The pet name slips out before I can stop it.
She shifts, tilting her head up in the dark. I can’t see her eyes, but I can feel the ghost of her breath against my jaw. “What do you think happens next?”
The question hangs in the cramped, dusty air.
The temptation to lie eats away at me. I want to tell her that there’s this beautiful place we’re going to live out our lives together—that maybe we’ll have a kid or something. Maybe we’ll make a whole ass new life.
But trapped in this metal box, speeding blindly into the night, the lies feel too heavy to carry.
“I don’t know what happens next,” I confess, my voice rough, stripping away the last of my defenses. “We have a very,veryrough plan at this point. I don’t know where this truck is heading. We have no idea what search is happening for me. Or,” I pause, the realization hitting me, “Foryou.”
She goes completely still. And then, slowly, she reaches up. Her hand finds my face in the dark, her soft fingers tracing the line of my jaw, the roughness of my stubble.
“Please just don’t leave me behind,” she whispers, her thumb brushing against my lower lip. “Whatever this is... whateverhappens... I want to be with you, Noah. You’re the only person who’s ever really known me.”
I let out a ragged breath, turning my face to press a kiss into the palm of her hand. The anger, the resentment, the desperate need to protect her by pushing her away—it all dissolves in the pitch-black underbelly of the RV.
I fuckingneedher.
But I don’t give her the promise that I’ll never leave her, because I don’t know if it’s one I can make. There’s still a plan, and if there’s still a safer future for her, then I’ll choose it. So, I just tighten my arm around her waist, pulling her as close as the compartment will allow.
The RV hums around us, carrying us toward an unknown destination. I lose track of time, and Bullet lightly snores. The temperature outside plummets, turning the metal floor of the storage bay to ice. Rue shivers against me, her breathing eventually evening out as sheer exhaustion drags her into a fitful sleep.
But I don’t find the same solace.
My own body is fucking screaming. The circulation in my legs is completely gone, replaced by a painful, buzzing numbness. My left arm throbs relentlessly, a deep, sickening pulse that warns me the stitches might be tearing under the strain of this cramped position. I need to take those antibiotics.
But I don’t move. I just hold her, letting my mind race through the logistics of our nightmare.
We lost the Pathfinder in a crash thatwilleventually point to Rue. We lost Christopher Banderra’s SUV to the Highway Patrol, which could lead to me being charged. We have five hundred dollars in stolen cash, a half-empty duffel bag of clothes, some antibiotics, and a geriatric beagle. Whenever this RV stops, we will be on foot.
