“Harper!” Silas’s voice cuts across the parking lot like a whip.
I freeze. Every instinct screams at me to run, but my feet won’t move. It’s like being twelve again, watchinghim walk away, except this time he’s walking toward me and somehow that’s worse.
They cross the parking lot in long strides, Caleb slightly behind Silas, like always. In the truck stop lighting, Silas looks exhausted—deep circles under his eyes, jaw tight, that vein at his temple that only shows up when he’s barely holding it together.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice is low, controlled, which is somehow scarier than if he were yelling.
“Taking a walk.” The lie is automatic, defensive. “Jesus, I can’t even get snacks from the gas station while I’m staying at a friend’s house without you tracking me down?”
“Marie’s mom called Helen. Said you left two hours ago but never texted that you got home.” Caleb’s voice is quieter than Silas’s but no less intense. “We’ve been driving around looking for you.”
The female trucker comes out of the store, coffee in hand, and takes one look at the situation. She catches my eye, raising an eyebrow in question.
I could run to her and weaponize our bond of womanhood—lie and say Caleb and Dad are abusive and I’m running away from them. I could get in that truck and probably be gone before they could stop me. I mean, they could always follow or call the cops. The Silas I used to know would never involve the police, but this new Silas?
My feet don’t move.
“Harper’s not going anywhere,” Silas says to thewoman, reading the situation instantly. “She’s seventeen and is coming home with us.”
“That true?” the woman asks me directly. “You underage?”
The honest answer—yes—sticks in my throat. Because admitting it means admitting I’m trapped. Admitting that no matter how fast I run, I can’t outrun the fact that I’m still just a kid with no money and no options and no way out.
“Yeah,” I finally say, the word scraping out like broken glass. “It’s true.”
The woman nods, and I can see the sympathy in her eyes. She knows exactly what this is—a runaway getting caught. Story as old as time. “Good luck, kid.”
She climbs into her rig and fires up the engine, and I watch my escape route disappear into the night with red taillights that look like eyes watching me.
“Car. Now.” Silas’s voice leaves no room for argument.
“Fuck you.” But the fight’s already draining out of me, exhaustion settling into my bones like concrete. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was just?—”
“Just what? Just planning to hitchhike back to East Texas in the middle of the night?” His voice cracks slightly. “You have any idea what could’ve happened to you? That asshole who was following you around?—”
“I had it handled?—”
“You had shit handled, Harper!”
And there it is—the yelling I was waiting for.
“You think you’re invincible? You’re seventeen yearsold, and you were about to get in a truck with a complete stranger?—”
“I do it all the time!” The words explode out of me before I can stop them. “You think this is the first time I’ve had to figure shit out on my own? Where the fuck were you when I was learning how to survive, huh? When I was twelve and thirteen and fourteen and?—”
“I know.” His voice drops, and the sudden quiet is worse than the yelling. “I know I wasn’t there. I can’t change that. But I’m here now, and I’m not letting you throw your life away because you’re scared.”
“I have to go back to help a friend. I’m not scared?—”
“Yes, you are.” Caleb’s voice cuts through, soft but certain. “You’re terrified.”
I turn on him, ready to unleash, but the look on his face stops me cold. He’s not angry. He’s not disappointed. He just looks... sad. Worried.
Like I matter.
Fuck.
“I just...” I swallow hard, hating the burn in my eyes that means tears are coming. “Dammit, I bet Marie’s worried. I told her I’d text when I got home.”