Easier to Run (24 page)

“Hey,” Paige said, catching my arm as we walked out. “I apologize profusely for my insane and perverted boyfriend, and you have my condolences for having to put up with him.”

“Thanks,” I said slowly. “I think.”

“If you ever need anything, tell Ben to give you my number. I’m at work half the time, but I’ve also been the new girl in town, and trucker girlfriends should stick together.”

“Not sure it counts as new s-since I used to live here.”

“Oh, don’t argue.” She playfully shoved me with her shoulder.

“You should go h-home and sleep,” I said, smiling as she swayed and leaned against Brantley’s car like someone who’d had a few too many drinks.

“As if Bed-Breaker will let me,” she scoffed and glanced over the car at Brantley.

“Now who’s being shrewd?” He asked smacking the top of his car. “Get it up and get movin’, shorty.”

Paige shook her head, stood up and walked around to climb into the passenger seat, but Ben caught her arm, and whispered something. I recognized that look and could only imagine what he’d just said.

I remembered seeing that look once when we were kids—we’d all been grounded for two weeks afterward.

We climbed into the cab of his truck and he winked, waiting for Brantley to pull out of the lot first. Then, Ben pulled up behind him and we waited at the light.

“What did you say to Paige?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me—especially considering the mischievous smile he still wore.

He frowned and shook his head.

“Ben?”

“Just sit back and enjoy,” he said.

I had no idea what he was talking about so I leaned against the door and enjoyed the hot, dry breeze. “Is Brantley always like that in public?” I asked.

“That? That was practically tame. Get him with a bunch of other truckers and it never ends. You’d have to bleach your brain at the end of the night.”

“You and your dad never seemed that bad”

Ben smirked. “That’s only because Dad won’t talk that way around women.”

“And you?”

He shrugged.

“I’m not allowed to avoid questions by shrugging,” I reminded him. If it applied to me, it should apply to him. But for whatever reason, he was far more concerned with staring down Brantley’s car. We moved through the intersection, and as soon as Brantley’s car hesitated with the gear change, a horrible grinding sound filled the air. And Brantley stuck his arm out the window, flipping us off.

My jaw dropped. “You f-fight dirty. What the hell did you tell her to do?”

“Just… distract him a bit,” he snorted, then sped around Brantley when the road split into double lanes.

Brantley yelled something out his window but I ducked down. These people were embarrassing to go anywhere with. “You all have issues,” I said. “I lived with people who shot porn and they didn’t act half as dirty minded.”

“That’s because they were acting it out. We’re deprived truckers,” he winked. “We have to get our kicks.”

I pressed my head into the back of the seat and watched the passing city. Just a week ago, I thought I still knew this place. But I didn’t know anything about it, or the people I’d left behind. All of my assumptions, everything I’d been terrified of facing… it seemed more like a dream now. Even more ridiculous and faint than a distant memory.

“Sorry I got cold feet again.”

“Stop apologizin’, Cas. If you didn’t get cold feet, I’d worry. You can’t make the long haul in one day—it takes time, and a lot of work. There will always be days that you’re not sure you’re doing the right thing, or you’re in the right place, or even on the right road, but eventually you get there.”

Ben

We dragged Dad out of the dispatch office and walked two blocks to the cell phone store. Cassie stood at the far end of the counter, staring at one of the displays while Dad and I got her information added to the account.

“Want anything special, Cas?”

“Uh.” She shrugged. “C-cheap. I don’t really care.”

I doubted it was that she didn’t care as much as she didn’t want to talk. “As long as it plays music?”

“Yeah, music is n-necessary.” She finally moved to stand beside me and took a hold of my arm.

“What do you have now?” the customer service rep asked.

“iPhone. Pre-p-paid plan.” She slid her hand in her front pocket where she kept her old phone.

He nodded and pulled out a couple of iPhones—a few in bright colors—laying them out across the counter.

“Pink,” Cassie said.

“I can also transfer all of your data for you.”

Cassie shook her head, starting to fidget and bounce slightly on the balls of her feet. I knew there was no way she was handing her old phone over to anyone.

“How about any other accessories?”

“We’ll come back if we do,” I said, smiling and handing the phone to Cassie. Then, I picked up the charger pack, and nudged her toward the exit.

“Don’t we need to pay?” she whispered as I pushed the door open.

“It’s taken care of.”

She waited until the door closed behind us, then turned to face me with her hands on her hips. “Are you ever going to let me pay for anything unless I go alone?”

I smiled and pointed my thumb over my shoulder at Dad. “Besides, with the plan, it was barely over a buck. Activation fees will be on the next bill so take it up with him.”

“Don’t complain, Cassie,” Dad said, nudging her shoulder. “It’s impolite.”

“You….” She scrunched her lips and crossed her arms. “You Murray men….”

“Are you saying we raised him wrong?” Dad took her by the neck, pulling her close.

“No, sir,” Cassie’s gaze flicked up to mine. “I’d say you did a pretty good job.”

Dad’s eyebrows drew together. “Only pretty good?”

“Well.” She pinched her lips together. “I still haven’t g-gotten homemade waffles.”

Dad glared at me as if I’d refused to feed her at all.

“It wasn’t
technically
my fault.” I went on to give him an update on Liz as we walked him back to work. Cassie walked quietly next to me, refusing to tear herself away from her new phone. A few times, she fell behind, taking pictures of small trees or buildings along the way. I could only half concentrate on the words coming out of my mouth because I enjoyed watching her.

“How’s Brantley taking it?” Dad asked, as we stopped in front of the office, while Cassie wandered near the field by the lot, still taking pictures.

“About the same as Brantley ever takes anything,” I said. It was hard to see beyond his jokes to judge how he really felt. And he purposefully kept it that way. Even when his dad had died, it was nearly impossible to get any kind of serious response from him.

“So for sure, no baby?” Dad asked.

I nodded. “That’s what the doctor says. I’d assume he’d be the authority on the subject. We’re still not entirely sure what’s going on.”

Dad shoved the door partway open. Aside from the secretary who spent the day filing paperwork and updates, the office was dead during the day. “Don’t get yourself in that mess again.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“
Yes, Dad
,” he said sarcastically. “You always say ‘yes, Dad’ and how often do you listen?”

“Anytime stupidity doesn’t get in the way.”

He snorted and nodded his head slowly. “Good enough answer I guess.”

Cassie finally wandered up to join us and Dad nodded to her. “Bring your girlfriend to dinner. Tonight. Mom wants to see her.”

Cassie pressed into my side, trying to bite back a smile as we waved goodbye to Dad.

“So, I g-guess that cat is way out of the bag?”

“Oh yeah,” I sighed, taking her hand and leading her back to the truck.

“No escaping now.”

“Oh, there’s always an escape,” I smirked down at her. “There’s a big blue and white truck waiting out back. All you have to do is say two little words.”

She spun around in front of me, cutting off my path. “Take me.”

I caught her face between my hands, and she rose on her tiptoes to kiss me.

“Although now that could have a different connotation,” I said.

Cassie rolled her eyes and pulled open the passenger door on my truck. “I’m sure it could. You spend too much time with Brantley.”

I climbed inside next to her and started the engine. Turning on the air conditioner to cool off after the long walk. “To the lawyer?”

She stared down at her new phone and slumped down in the seat. “Can’t I just…. Call him?”

“I guess.” I grunted and pointed down at her phone. “Get it over with and then you don’t have to dread it anymore.”

She huffed and pulled out her old phone to dial the number. While she waited, she tapped her fingers against the door, and I assumed she was listening to some insanely long call answering service message. “They’re closed,” she said slowly. “Like out of business closed. So, who has all the information?”

“Maybe they just moved, or he’s at a different practice.”

“It said to contact whoever I was referred to, but I didn’t get a referral—” She dropped her had against the back of the seat. “Unless it was sent to my grandparents’ house.”

“You sure that’s the address they have?”

“I uh,” she shook her head, and pressed her hands to her temples. “Yeah, it was changed back while I was in the hospital. My grandparents had legal…
whatever
while I was there.”

“And you haven’t talked to the lawyer since before that?”

“When he called about Mitchel.” She closed her eyes, but kept fidgeting in her seat.

“Cas?”

“I’m here,” she said. “I’m just, you know, envisioning the train wreck that’s about to happen.”

“Why? Why does there have to be a train wreck? It’s a little more complicated, but we can figure it out. One step at a time.”

She took a deep breath and stilled—albeit slightly. “Okay, so the next step is calling my grandparents. The ones who’ve been threatening to call the cops on me. What are the chances they’re going to give me the information even if I ask super nicely?”

“Only one way to find out.”

She pressed a button on her old phone and put it to her ear. Then, she winced and pulled it away from her ear—I assumed it wasn’t pretty.

Cassie

I shook my head and put the phone on speaker. I was tired of having their voices in my head.

“When are you coming home?”

“I’m not,” I said slowly. “Or rather, I am home, and I’m staying here.”

“Then, we have nothing to discuss.” There was some kind of loud racket in the background and I wondered for a second if my grandma had slammed the phone down.

My phone still showed that it was connected, so I continued. “I need to know if I have any mail from my lawyer there.”

“Why would you? You just said this isn’t your home.”

“It’s the address they had on file. The firm shut down and I need to know what happened. Who’s handling the case now?”

“There is no case. It’s over.”

And this was why I preferred dentists to my grandmother. “You know what I mean. The lawyer was keeping me up to date.”

“Apparently not well if you don’t even know they closed.”

Next to me, Ben groaned and pressed his hand to his forehead.

I shrugged. I was at a loss for what to do. Like him and Liz, there was no talking between us. Then, I leaned my head back and smiled. I wasn’t a stuttering mess. Even talking to my grandparents. I
wasn’t
a stuttering mess. I’d even spent all morning talking with people I barely knew. I almost wanted to laugh.

“If you have the information, I really need it,” I said. “I don’t want to fight.”

“We don’t have any mail for you.” My grandma didn’t even notice that I could speak. The line went dead.

“Now what?” I asked.

“There has to be a paper trail somewhere,” Ben suggested. “We can call around tonight.

“Yeah,” I tapped the back of my phone. “Guess I don’t need this anymore.”

“Should we run it over?”

“With the semi.” I stretched out and yawned. “Can we just go home? Or check on Liz, whichever you’d like to do first.”

Home, hospital, anywhere I didn’t have to face the very real possibility that my worst nightmare was already out of prison and I had missed the memo. All I wanted was spend one day not looking over my shoulder. Spending the afternoon locked in Ben’s apartment, was a good alternative to that.

***

I dropped my phones on the kitchen counter. My old phone was turned off and staying that way until I got all of my information wiped off it and got rid of the damn thing. “So, what would you like to do?”

Before I finished the question, Ben’s hands were on my hips, and his lips were pressed against the side of my neck. “I have a few ideas.”

He could read my mind.

I pressed back against him, and stretched my neck to grant him access. His fingers slid down the front of my jeans and pulled me back against his hips.

With his touch only one thing mattered—being his.

He spun me around and lifted me into one of the tall bar chairs. His fingers inched up my sides pulling up my shirt. He tugged it over my head and dropped it to the floor, then pulled my open hips against his.

I wrapped my legs around him, hooking my ankles behind his hips. Then, I pulled his shirt up, over his head, to join mine on the floor.

“I like this answer,” I said, but he covered my mouth with his before I could say anything else.

I arched my back, rubbing against his hardening erection. Even through the material of our jeans, his touch ignited my senses.

Ben pulled me off the chair, and let me gently slide against him down to the floor. “Let’s move to the bedroom.”

He took my hand and led me across the living room to his bedroom. But when I saw the mess on the floor, sex was the last thing on my mind.

I’d been the last one in the bedroom before we all left this morning. We’d left the bed unmade and clothes all over the floor, but now, all of the sheets and pillows were ripped off the bed. “Brantley?” I asked, hoping that there was some crazy chance he decided to prank us after Ben’s little show with Paige, but Ben shook his head.

“He wouldn’t do anything like this. What would be the point?”

I walked around the floor and nudged the pile of sheets with my foot, then I flipped it all over. “Ben,” I couldn’t catch my breath. “My clothes are gone. The ones I was wearing last night.”

I saw something sticking out from underneath the pillow and pulled out a yellow piece of paper. “She’s mine. Stay away,” I read the words out loud and handed the paper to Ben.

Ben pulled me away from the bed, and back into the living room faster than my feet could move. “We’re calling the police.”

“What if it’s a stupid prank?” I was still holding on to that tiny hope that this was all a game.

“It’s not,” he said.

I collected my shirt and dragged it over my head. I watched him send off a quick message on his phone, then dial the police.

I grabbed my phone off the counter, then took several steps backward to lean against the couch. My fingers shook as I opened the internet browser.

Ben’s words turned to garbled mush while I slowly typed the letters on the keypad,
Mitchel Gibson,
and pressed search. I scrolled though the first page of results. Nothing. Maybe I was just over thinking it.

Jumping to insane conclusions.

I slid to the floor, and Ben sat next to me just as the news article hit the bottom of my screen.

“Oh, God,” I choked on the words.