Running Away With Him

“I know what you’re thinking. There was a witness. Me. So why didn’t I go to some other police station and tell them my story? That’s what everybody thinks, right? Like when you’re watching a horror movie and yelling at the main character not to open a door. Only this time you’re asking why I never did. The reason is that while there are definitely good cops out there, it’s not like they’re wearing signs. I knew that if I talked to the wrong guy, he might somehow know Trevor. And I wouldn’t get beaten for betraying him; no, he’d kill me. He said so.” She grabs at my right hand with both of hers, ringing my palm, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I wanted to get that poor kid justice, but I couldn’t do anything. You have to believe me.”

While I might not be able to put myself in her shoes—and no one who hasn’t lived through a similar situation should judge—I can at least acknowledge that she’s no murderer. She’s not even an accomplice. Kate is a victim who, while not chained up in a basement somewhere, has been wearing mental shackles for far too long.

I might not be able to do much, but I can at least let her know that I’m on her side.

“You’re wrong,” I say and she recoils, but I immediately reach for her hands again. My touch is gentle, but her eyes shake nonetheless. “There’s something you could have done. And you did it. You escaped. And now we can actually begin to fix this.”

Her nod is short and followed by a sniffle. “You’re not going to leave me here, are you?”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do next, but we’ll figure it out together. So that’s at least one less thing for you to worry about.” My stomach growls then, and I rub at it like I’m taming a cat. “I lied. I know what we’re going to do next. I hope you like greasy-ass diner food, because that looks to be about our only choice.”

This stupid remark earns me a weary smile. And a kiss on the cheek this time. I don’t know if that means she regrets the earlier one, but I’ll take it. And see where it takes me.

Chapter 7

Kate

We pick up two Reuben sandwiches coupled with iced tea and fries and then drive down the road to a little beach that’s out of the way. Here we spread out a flannel blanket Brad says that he forgot he even had in the trunk and have a meal on the beach. The sun is hidden behind a thick layer of smudgy clouds, so it’s far from romantic or even hopeful. But no one is going to find us here. Not even my psycho ex.

Halfway through my sandwich, I swipe at an errant bit of sour kraut on my chin. I don’t mean to be suc

h a messy eater, but the moment the rye bread hits my lips, I remember that I skipped breakfast in my hurry this morning. I look over at Brad, blink once after he matches my gaze, and say, “I think an apology is overdue. I’ve been so caught up in my own thing that I never thought to ask more about you. So what’s your story?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know my deal. Abusive ex-boyfriend who won’t stop stalking me. So what’s yours?”

He only shakes his head. “I don’t have a deal.”

“Everyone has a deal,” I say as I pop a thick, greasy fry in my mouth. “I showed you mine, so it's time for you to show me yours.”

Brad shrugs his shoulders. “Nothing quite as dramatic as your story. Just the normal life. Went to college but didn’t take it seriously enough. Moved back in with my parents and mooched off them for two years before they gave me an ultimatum: get a job or get out. It took me three months of sending my resume around, but I finally got this entry-level position at a tech start-up. That’s my major. Computer science. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was going to be enough to finally get a place of my own.

“Today was my first day, but my boss is apparently pretty anal and didn’t like the fact that I wore jeans into the office. But I figured that since I was just going to be stuck in a cubicle, it wouldn’t matter. Well, apparently it does. That’s why I was at the department store today. I was supposed to head right back to the office, but instead I’m eating lunch here with you. Can’t say that I mind, though my parents are going to go ballistic when they find out I got fired on my first day.

“My dad’s been uptight ever since this guy backed into him on the road for some insurance scam a couple months ago. He lost a lot of money. Even got us all these black boxes for our cars so it could never happen again. I guess what I’m trying to say is that my home life is far from relaxed at the moment, and I’m not exactly looking forward to going back and telling them I have to start the whole job search thing over again.”

I can’t help but cringe when he gets to the end of his story and realize I’m the reason he’ll be facing consequences—not congratulations—when he eventually makes it home. But as much as I probably should be feeling nothing but sorry for the guy I dragged into this mess, I can’t help but drift over to my own side of the coin. Which is more varnished and worn down that its counterpart. The sad truth is that I don’t have anywhere to return to. Trevor knows all my friends; he spent the first half of our relationship extricating them from my life. Now that I’ve alienated everyone I know, there’s no one left to stay with. One could argue that I might return home to Maine, where my parents have both lived since they wore born in the same hospital only a day apart. But that would mean forgiving them for kicking me out when they found me smoking pot with my very first boyfriend.

At seventeen, I was on my own. And not much has changed since then. The only difference is that instead of being on a Greyhound, with only a twenty in my pocket and a backpack stuffed to the brim with clothes that would be stolen at the first hostel I stayed in, I’m instead on a lovely beach with a guy who’s actively losing out by helping me. It’s not like he’s doing what anyone would do in his situation, like holding a door for a pregnant woman; no, he’s put his future in peril by helping me.

And he’s acting like it’s no big deal.

So, I push aside my anxiety. Stop thinking of what comes next in my story and instead focus on Brad’s. Because thanks to his chivalry, they’re entwined for the time being. And while I can’t predict what comes next, I can at least decide what happens now.

My body moves on its own. This next kiss is more curiosity than anything else. But more than needing to know what it feels like, there’s a deeper seeded selfishness to run away from my current predicament by running toward another. So when Brad begins to pull away, I push forward with all the more fervor. And when Brad relents, coming closer to lean over me as I lie back on the blanket and breathe deeply as his tongue lashes at my own, I finally feel the outside world fade away.

And less of everything else is exactly what I need right now.

Chapter 8

Brad

Nothing about today has been the way I would have predicted.

I didn’t expect my new boss to care about my wearing jeans. Then I found myself running away from this girl’s ex, literally watching him grow smaller in my rearview mirror. It would be a lie to say that I never thought of our little escape bringing us together in the exact way it’s happening right now, but I never would have believed it might actually happen.

These sorts of things just don’t happen to me.