We’d agreed to go radio silent until we met up that night, and I knew it was absolute torture for Cec. I had to admit, it wasn’t real fun for me, either. Not knowing where Olive was, how she was doing, or if the plan would work was really wearing on me. It also didn’t help that our truck was technically the bait truck. Anyone who didn’t know what we’d done would assume both Cecilia and Olive were with me, driving north to the clubhouse in Eugene.
Only our small group knew she was in a box on the passenger seat of Forrest’s SUV. Not the safest way to travel, but we were pretty much beyond that worry.
“Let’s head out,” Casper said, meeting me back at the pump. “Got a lot of road to cover before we get there tonight.”
“You think this’ll work?”
“Pretty damn sure,” Casper replied. “Long as they don’t try to ambush us on the road. Only a few people know about Poet’s place on the coast and the security is prime. Even has safe room.”
“Haven’t felt like I’m being watched since we left the clubhouse,” I said quietly. “It can’t be that easy.”
“It might be,” he said with a shrug. “They think we’re headed to Eugene—and a straight shot up I-5 means we’d have to drive right through the territory they’re controlling. No need to follow if they know we’re headed right for ’em.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
We were on the road again pretty quick after that, and I let myself relax just slightly into my seat. If we could all just get to the house on the coast, we could figure out what to do next.
“What’s wrong?” Farrah asked, turning in her seat to look at Cecilia. “You okay?”
I looked in the mirror to find CeeCee crying silently, shaking her head in dismissal. She’d been in tears most of the drive, but something about those tears were different.
“You need to pump?” Farrah asked, rummaging through the bag at her feet. “I washed everything after you used it this morning, so it’s ready to go.”
Cecilia waved the contraption away.
“Cec,” I said, getting her attention. “Forrest said you need to pump while you guys are apart unless you want to get another clog.”
“Yeah, or have your supply tank,” Farrah said, pushing the hand-pump at Cecilia.
She just stared out the window.
“Should I pull over?” I asked Farrah. It wasn’t a good idea—actually it was a terrible one—but if Cecilia needed to stop, I’d stop.
Silently, CeeCee yanked the pump out of her mom’s hands.
“Threatening to pull the car over never stopped you from being a punk when you were a kid,” Farrah said, still twisted in her seat. “Glad to know it does now.”
Half an hour later, a little bottle of milk was passed to the front of the cab and Farrah stashed it in a cooler at her feet. When I glanced back at Cecilia, her head was resting against the window, her eyes closed.
“Only an hour left before we get to the house,” I said quietly to Farrah in case Cecilia was able to get some rest.
“Yeah, then we’ll have somewhere to pace until everyone else shows up,” she said in frustration, running her hands through her hair. “But at least we know that Rose and Mack are safe back home. Might help my ulcer, some.”
“Can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you and Casper,” I replied.
“Hard’s an understatement,” she said quietly. “Rose is like one of our kids. And we know that she had the whole club up there searching, but it’s been pretty much an impossible situation not knowing whether or not to haul ass north or play it safe.”
“Being pulled in two different directions,” I muttered.
“Yep. This shit is far from over, but it’s a bit of a relief to have one fucked situation to deal with at a time.”
“I bet.”
We were quiet for a few minutes.
“I was sorry to hear about your mom,” Farrah said out of the blue. “Don’t think I ever told you that.”
“You don’t have to say that,” I replied, glancing at her. “I know you weren’t her biggest fan.”
Farrah huffed out a laugh. “Bit of an understatement,” she said ruefully. “But I am sorry you lost her. Losing a parent sucks, doesn’t matter if they were a good one or not—and from what I understand, she did her best with you.”
“She did,” I replied.
“People react differently to shit,” Farrah murmured. “Cam and Trix were different, but I can’t imagine telling him to bail when he told us Trix was pregnant.”
“That’s not exactly how it went down.”
“Close enough,” Farrah said, shooting me a look. “But she’d had a different experience with the club. Couldn’t have been happy that you knocked up some club brat.”
“I think she regretted it later,” I said quietly. “Once she saw how bad it fucked me up.”