I stood in the middle of the chaos as movers swarmed in and had everything loaded into a box truck in the blink of an eye. Joel’s car—the new one he got after insurance finally agreed that having your car blown up meant it was totaled—was hitched up to be towed to Rhode Island.
Jude and I helped Joel down the stairs and said our goodbyes in the parking lot. Joel even hugged Jude.
When the hideous orange moving truck disappeared from the parking lot, I turned to Jude. “I can’t believe you did this for him. I know how messy his room was. Packing up couldn’t have been easy.”
He cupped my cheeks, brushing the lingering tears away. “Scale of one to ten. How mad are you?”
“Zero,” I croaked. “I think he and I need a break.” I looked back at the apartment building. “And the idea of leaving this place is growing on me.”
“I’d chase you to the ends of the earth, Dr. Hawthorne. You’re the only person I’d run to and run for.”
The kiss we shared was soft and sweet, like a gentle sunrise full of hope and possibilities.
“Did you actually have things to do in Newark? Or was that a lie so you could pack Joel’s things since he can’t move without crutches again?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I was there last night. Turned in the keys to my apartment. Figured I’d get a place nearby.”
Hope began to bloom inside of me for the first time in months. “Well, since my lease is up in November, maybe we should just get a place together. Or . . .”
“Or?”
I smiled. “Or we could go home.”
Jude smiled as he fished around in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “I just picked up the truck from the airport.”
45
JUDAH
Tuesday, September 2 | 4:32 p.m.
Amelia stirred as the truck slowed to a stop, but she didn’t wake. The leaves surrounding the cabin had begun to change, turning from lush green to olive and ocher. Though it was just a few days after Labor Day, the elevation made it feel as though autumn was impending.
The cabin looked exactly the same. Every time I thought about what people saw on the outside, I chuckled, knowing what was inside. It was a constant lesson on not judging a book by its cover . . . or not judging a cabin by its leaning exterior.
Amelia and I had loaded up the truck with far more than we had brought with us the first time. It somewhat defeated the purpose of an off-grid safe house, but I didn’t mind. Neither did Cole. Especially not after I bought out his half of the cabin. Now, it was all ours.
Amelia was on leave, but I was officially unemployed. Given the circumstances, I walked away with a hefty severance.
I wasn’t entirely sure what life would look like after this, but I knew who I wanted to live it with.
I slipped out from behind the wheel, stretched, and cracked my back as the ache of a long road trip eased out of my muscles. We had taken it slow this time, stopping halfway and spending the night at a hotelusing our real IDs.
I had hoped Amelia’s nightmares would fade once we left the East Coast, but they showed up like clockwork whenever she tried to sleep.
Her nap in the front seat was the most she had consistently slept in days.
I unlocked the cabin, then headed back to the truck, carefully opened her door, and scooped her up like a bride.
Huh. I like the thought of Amelia being a bride.
“You’re smiling,” she murmured lazily as she rubbed her eyes before plonking her head back down on my chest.
“We’re here.”
“Yeah. But you’re smiling. You never smile.”
I kissed her forehead as I carried her over the threshold. The cabin smelled musty but familiar. The dust on the sheets we had used to cover the furniture was our housewarming gift.
