I push through the glass doors into fluorescent brightness and the smell of burned coffee and hot dog water. A bored clerk barely glances up from her phone as I head toward the back, where I can see through the window to the trucker lot.
This is fine. This istotally fine. I’ve talked my way into and out of worse situations.
I meander outside to the truck lot and scan the semis, looking for... I don’t know. Someone who doesn’t look like a serial killer? It feels like a low bar, but it’s all I’ve got.
A guy in his fifties with a beer gut and greasy haircatches my eye and starts walking toward me. “You need a ride, sweetheart?”
Everything about the way he says “sweetheart” makes my skin crawl. The way his eyes travel down my body, the way he’s already moving into my space?—
“Nope. I’m good.” I turn on my heel and head back toward the store.
He follows. “Come on, don’t be like that. Where you headed? I can take you?—”
“I said I’m good.” My voice goes sharp, and I pick up my pace.
His hand reaches for my arm?—
“Hey.” A woman’s voice breaks in, commanding and no-nonsense. “She said no. Move along.”
I turn to see a woman in her forties with short gray hair and a flannel shirt, standing next to a rig with “Long Haul Queen” painted on the mud flaps. She’s giving the creep a look that could strip paint.
He mutters something under his breath and shuffles away.
“Thank you,” I say, and I hate how shaky my voice sounds. Fuck. Ihatebeing afraid.
“No problem.” She studies me for a second. “You running to something or away from something?”
The question is so direct that it catches me off guard. “Does it matter?”
“Depends.” She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and offers me one. I take it. “I’m heading east on I-20 to Shreveport.”
“That’s perfect!” I say quickly. I recognize good luck when I see it. “I won’t be any trouble, swear. If you couldjust drop me at any town before you get to the state line, you’d be a lifesaver.” Then I can catch another ride south to Selbyville.
She lights her cigarette, then mine. “All right.”
Relief floods through me so fast it makes me dizzy. “Really? Thank you. I can pay?—”
“Keep your money.” She takes a long drag. “But I need to grab coffee first. Wait here.”
She heads into the store, and I lean against her truck, smoking and trying not to think about the football game. About Caleb’s smile when I finally admitted it was fun. About Sara’s easy friendship. About how I’d actually felt like I belonged somewhere for the first time in my life.
Stop it.
I’m halfway through my cigarette when the doors to the gas station open and two figures walk out.
Even in the harsh fluorescent light, even from this distance, I’d know that silhouette anywhere.
Silas.
And right behind him, looking around the parking lot with purpose?—
Caleb.
My stomach drops straight through the asphalt.
Fuck.
I drop the cigarette and bolt, but I’m not fast enough. I never am.