I keep my eyes forward.
She hears it land and winces. “Derby.”
“No. Say it.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“You did.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “And you’re right.”
The road hums under the tires.
My hands ache around the wheel.
“The Kings had men watching my house,” I say. “Cameras. Prospects. Locks. Guns. Me sleeping in the living room. Still, somebody got close enough to leave a toy on the porch. Then I did exactly what Jeremy wanted and got myself cuffed outside county services.”
She goes quiet.
I keep going because stopping now would be another lie.
“You ran to women who knew how to make you disappear without turning it into a damn parade. You went somewhere Vale couldn’t touch you. August laughed. You breathed.” I swallow the bitter thing in my throat. “I hate that I wasn’t the one who gave you that.”
She looks down at her hands.
“You gave me keys,” she says.
“I gave you keys and then lost my mind when you used them.”
“Because you were angry?”
“Yes.” I glance at her. “And scared.”
She nods slowly.
“I thought you’d come to drag me back.”
“So did I for part of the ride.”
That gets a broken laugh out of her.
Better than silence.
So I drive.
The road lets me.
For a while.
At the next gas stop, August wakes up grumpy and hungry. We buy terrible sandwiches, chocolate milk, coffee, and a map because August decides phones are not trustworthy since Mama left hers behind and that means paper is more honest. I don’t argue with that logic. Amelia laughs when I let him trace the route with his finger on the hood of the SUV.
“We’re here?” he asks.
“Close enough,” I say.
“And Kentucky is here?”
“Yeah.”
He traces all the space between. “That’s a lot.”