“He… plane… as soon—”
I knitted my brows and prompted, “Say again?”
“Ready… he’s… there—”
Everything went dead then, and I looked down at the screen to see the call had been disconnected and I had zero bars.
Of course. I shoved my cell back in my purse and stared down at the cinnamon rolls. “Screw the carb overload,” I muttered and grabbed a pack of apple turnovers while I was at it.
This was an adventure, right? I was meant to enjoy myself and not worry about anything while I learned about everything… right? So fuck the carbs and screw the thought that some supernatural man—who was too sexy for his own good—declared me as his and said he was coming for me.
He wouldn’t find me, not when I didn’t even know where to find myself. I was as lost in my own body and surroundings as I would be to him. A ghost, a shadow.
That should have given me some kind of solace, so why did I feel this gaping hole in my chest at the thought of him not catching me?
11
Evelyn
Two hours later and I was sitting on a full-size bed in an out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere motel I’d seen from the road I’d been on. It seemed like something out of a horror movie, one of those that promised a creepy front desk attendant probably peeping through a hole in the shower. But I’d just been freaking myself out.
The front desk attendant had been the little old lady who’d been there to greet and check me in and had even given me pamphlets on tourist traps along the way, ones that promised the biggest ball of yarn or the largest and longest snakeskin.
So here I was, sitting on the bed with my legs crossed, the comforter under me a horrendous floral print. I was feeling off, had been since I’d gotten off the phone with Darragh, and I just couldn’t place why.
I idly thought what stains I’d come up with if I had a blacklight with me, then promptly pushed those thoughts aside before I got too grossed out. I stared down at the prepackaged sandwich, bag of chips, and bottle of water I picked up at the last gas station I stopped at before checking into the motel for the night. I regretted not grabbing my food from the Amish store, where instead I focused on the sugary goodness instead.
There was a weird flavor to my sandwich, and I was pretty sure the cheese wasn’t real. I picked up the square yellow piece, shaking it in my hand a little bit, watching it jiggle, the shiny texture and rubbery consistency making my lip curl in disgust. I dropped it into the plastic bag that my food had come in and picked up my sandwich, taking another bite, my teeth going through the lettuce and making a fresh, crisp sound echo throughout the room.
I tried calling Darragh back with the landline once I checked in, but it was late—or too early—in Scotland, so there hadn't been an answer. I kept thinking about what she’d said and her broken-up words. I tried to piece them together, to try to figure out what she’d been saying, because it seemed important. And although I hadn’t been able to figure it out, a part of me knew it had something to do with Cian.
Just thinking his name had a flutter of something strong moving through me.
I’d never experienced whatever this was before, so I couldn’t explain it, but it filled every part of me with this dark awakening, as if I was missing something monumental by not giving in. But I pushed those thoughts away, refusing to let them live rent-free in my head.
I took another bite of my sandwich, staring at the boxy TV that had the sound turned all the way down, the news station talking about the county fair that was happening in the next week.
So of course with nothing else to do, my mind immediately went back to Cian and what I remembered during our one and only interaction. I remembered how he looked as I stared at him through the phone. It seemed so long ago, not just days having passed since my entire life had changed.
I ended up eating half the sandwich, all the chips, drinking a quarter of the water, and shamelessly ate a cinnamon roll and an apple turnover.
Belly full and sugar and carbs making me lethargic, I decided I was tired enough to call it a night. But first I spread out the road map I’d been smart enough to grab at the gas station once I realized Internet maps and Wi-Fi were nonexistent so far on my trip.
I smoothed my palms over the thick paper, the swish of my skin sliding over it almost relaxing in a sense. I liked to think of myself as an intelligent, independent woman, but I relied too heavily on technology, and map reading just wasn’t in my skill set. And that was evidently clearer the longer I stared at the roads and highways, the landmarks and street names. It was like another language to me.