Page 85 of Wrecked

I drum my fingers on the leather steering wheel. The pickup is still behind me. Maybe a few more minutes of this monotony will make him give up and speed into the distance.

I reach into my bag and pull out my phone. With my eyes on the road—okay, I take a quick glance—I tap on my Audible app and open the book I started listening to with Adam. I downloaded it and have been listening sporadically.

The girl narrator is speaking.

“Everything about us, our childhood, our relationship—it’s all coming into focus. My role in his life then and now. I’ve always loved him, and I always will, but maybe my purpose was to be his gravity and not his lover.”

I hit the stop button and toss my phone in the backseat. I officially hate this book.

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel again. My nails are a pretty shade of hot pink. I sneak a look at them just as the yellow light indicating that I’m running low on gas pops on.

“Damn it, Luke,” I call out.

It’s really not his fault. I’ve been driving this hot rod just as much as he has lately. I should have noticed I was low on gas this morning.

I drive for a few more miles until I reach the town just a few exits away from Cedar Ridge. Of course, Stalker McStalkerton is following me off the exit ramp. I glide up the road to the first gas station just off the highway and pull up to a self-service pump. I turn the car off, pop the gas tank, and hop out of the car. Adam’s truck is parked by the air pump.

I select the gas grade and insert the nozzle into the tank. I’m watching the price tick up when a police cruiser pulls up next to the pump on the other side of me.

The front door opens, and Officer Harper steps out. He’s fixing his pants, pulling them up around the waist, when he sees me standing there.

I offer him a closed mouth smirk. Nothing more, nothing less. I mean, he’s the reason I’m stuck to Adam for half of a year. If he’d just done his job like he was supposed to and really investigated the crash, I wouldn’t be going through any of this nonsense.

“Hi there,” he says, quite cordial for someone who arrested me for drunk-driving. “Paige, right?”

“Leah Paige,” I confirm. “And don’t worry; I’m on my way home from my community service.”

He places two hands on his belt just above his holster and walkie-talkie—a comfortable resting spot, I’m sure. Leaning his head to the side, he narrows his eyes at me. “You in trouble?”

I blink at him. My gas counter ticks and clicks off. “Not in any more than you put me in.”

“Where are you doing community service?” he asks.

I look to the side, dumbfounded, and then back to him to answer, “Homes for All Souls.”

Light registers in his eyes. “Reingold’s charity. Great organization. Glad you’re helping out.”

“Me, too,” I answer.

I put the gas nozzle back in the holster. I’m closing the door to the gas tank when I see Adam exit his truck. He starts to move toward us but stops. Then, he turns and heads back toward the side of his truck. He punches in the air but stays by his truck.

I look back to Harper. “You sound surprised.”

He looks up at me. “Excuse me?”

“I’m only volunteering because of you.” I can’t believe I’m explaining the details to him.

Harper squints. “Do I need to issue a field sobriety test on you?”

I wave my hand at him. “No, no, no.”

He puts his gas nozzle in the holster and opens the front door. “We found that friend of yours. She was in a bad state a few weeks ago. She was sent to rehab, but word is, she checked herself out. You need to stay away from people like her if you want to stay clean yourself.”

I should be annoyed that he thinks I’m a drug addict, but I’m more confused by what I heard. “Victoria was in rehab?”

He tsks, a disappointed expression on his face. “Why anyone would refuse help is beyond me.”

My brain is revving at a million miles an hour. Victoria was found and sent to rehab. I saw her at the bar, so her checking herself out of rehab makes sense. But, if she was discovered and Harper recognized her name from my story, then…