5. Brea
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The drive from Bloomington to Dallas is relatively smooth. We opted not to grab a hotel for the night. Instead, Keira and I took turns behind the wheel. Now, as we close in on her aunt’s place just outside the city limits, my stomach flips at an alarming rate.
“Are you sure your aunt won’t mind us crashing here?” I ask again, glancing over at Keira as she takes a bite of the apple she picked up a few hours ago when we switched drivers.
“Nah,” she replies quickly, plastering a reassuring smile on her face. “Aunt Lisa barely stays in Dallas anymore. She prefers to roam these days. She’s actually glad someone will be there to check on it.”
I nod, trying to quell the unease that churns deep inside me. I haven’t slept a wink since we put Indiana behind us. Every roar of an engine sends me spiraling with the thought Tank has found us already. While Keira seems impervious to the fear of my stepdad, I'm waging war against images of Tank's hulking frame looming through the window like some kind of unwanted specter ready to snatch me back into his world. The only solace I am clinging to is that he doesn’t know where I am, and he can’t track me without my phone.
As the towering skyline of Dallas glints in the late afternoon sun, my grip tightens on the wheel. Keira hums softly to a song that blares from the car’s speakers, her carefree nature somehow alleviating some of my anxiety.
“Just think of it as a pit stop,” she says, tossing her empty apple core out of the window like it’s a mundane part of our adventure. “We’ll stay at Aunt Lisa’s for a while to regroup, maybe grab some good Tex-Mex, and then we’ll hit the road again until we know you’re safe from Tank.”
I nod in half-hearted agreement, but doubts creep in. What if it's not that simple? What if Tank had his people watching every exit from town? The scars he left on my soul feel fresh no matter how many miles I clock away from him.
“I don’t know that I will ever be safe from him,” I admit.
“You really think he’s going to waste his time tracking you down, B? His club has bigger fish to fry than chasing you down. Trust me, this is not like one of our books. Tank doesn’t come off as someone who would obsess over you running away. It’s not like he’s made a deal for your hand or something like that.”
I let out a short laugh, though it doesn't reach my eyes. “Trust me, Keira, it felt like a deal half the time. Tank has his ways of making you feel like you’re in this unbreakable contract that doesn’t even require ink.”
“You’re free now, and that’s all that matters, B.” Keira reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Now, you sit back and relax. Enjoy the view. We should be at my aunt’s in less than an hour.”
I focus on the road ahead, but Keira's words linger stubbornly in my mind like a wheel stuck in mud. Free. The word beats in my chest, stirring memories of chains I believed I had escaped.
As we veer off the highway, the streets narrow, lined with swaying palm trees and quaint houses that seem frozen. Each mile draws me deeper into Dallas and closer to the unknown awaiting us at Aunt Lisa's place. Keira's presence offers some stability, yet I still feel like a live wire. The idea of settling down anywhere other than home feels foreign.
"There it is!" Keira's voice cuts through my swirling thoughts, redirecting my gaze to a charming two-story bungalow nestled between towering magnolias. Its weathered mint-green walls exude a faded yet inviting aura, a nostalgic beacon from days long past. It doesn't whisper danger. Instead, it whispers of refuge.
I guide the car into the gravel driveway, turning off the engine as Keira jumps out and stretches her arms wide. A soft chuckle escapes me and her vitality brings a slight lift to my spirits. She possesses a talent for painting over horrible situations with her laughter and unwavering hope.
Stepping out and scanning our surroundings, an instinct honed by years within Tank's world pricks at me. It's too quiet here. The silence speaks volumes, the kind of quiet that...makes you hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Keira notices my hesitation and turns back, her smile unwavering. "Come on! Let’s go inside already." She bounds up the porch steps, leaving me lingering by the car as if tethered by some invisible thread. Keira leans down, pulling something small from under the front door mat, and waves it at me. “Ta-da!”
With a resigned sigh, I follow her onto the creaky wooden steps. My foot hesitates just above the threshold. I steal a glance over my shoulder, half-expecting Tank to loom behind me. Nothing but the safety of the setting sun kisses the horizon.
Keira unlocks the door before flinging it open and steps into an inviting foyer adorned with pictures of family members and abstract artwork that clash wonderfully against the soft beige walls.
“It’s like stepping into a time capsule,” Keira remarks. “I don’t think she’s redecorated since the last time I was here.”
“And when was that?”
“2008, I think. Mom dumped me on Aunt Lisa for a summer when she decided to follow her then boyfriend’s fledgling band around the country.”
I chuckle lightly at the image, picturing a much younger Keira, weaving her way through dusty motel rooms and smoke-filled bars. “Guess she didn’t mind being the rock ‘n’ roll babysitter.”
“Not at all! She loved it,” Keira replies, stepping further inside, unleashing a familiar scent of lavender and old books that wafts towards me like a warm hug.
“I just can’t shake this feeling,” I murmur, fingers trailing along the wall’s texture, which is cool to the touch. “Like we’re walking into a trap.”
Keira pauses mid-step. “No one knows where you are, B. It’s not like a ‘Brea is here’ signal is waving in the sky like the Bat Signal,” she quips with playful sarcasm.
“That would be my luck,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?” She tilts her head, her expression shifting from amusement to concern.
“Nothing.” I take a deep breath, resolving to push away the darkness creeping into my thoughts.
“Let’s just… explore.”
We wander through the cozy living space. The walls are lined with mismatched furniture that tells stories of years gone by. An old record player sits proudly in one corner beside stacks of vinyl albums while the last of the evening sunlight peeks through wide windows adorned with lace curtains.
“Come on,” Keira declares. “I’ll show you to the bedrooms upstairs.”
I follow her up the staircase, each step creaking beneath us. The air thickens and I think about how simple this place feels compared to my chaotic past.
Keira pushes open a door at the end of the hallway, revealing a small room painted a soft sky blue. “This was my old room,” she says, glancing around fondly. “It’s pretty much untouched since I left.”
I step inside, taking in the worn bedspread and the bookshelf crammed with dog-eared novels.
“Is this where I am staying?”
“Oh god, no. You can take the Master bedroom.”
“I can’t stay in your aunt’s room.”
“You can, and you will. The other two rooms on this floor are a painting studio and Aunt Lisa’s craft room, aka where half-finished craft projects go to gather dust and die,” she laughs. “Come on, I’ll show you where it is, and then we can go down and get our stuff out of the car before I head into town to grab some groceries while you settle in.”
“Lead the way.”
Keira steps out of the room with purpose, her energy infectious as she guides me down the hall. My thoughts swirl uninvited, grappling with my past and the fear of what might be lurking around corners. I catch a glimpse of the framed photographs lining the walls. Keira in pigtails, arms thrown wide in excitement, her aunt with an arm around her shoulder, both laughing into the camera.
“Here it is!” Keira announces as we reach the end of the corridor. She swings open the door to a spacious room painted in soothing earth tones. The large bed beckons from one corner, draped in a quilt that looks as though it has been lovingly patched over decades. An expansive bookshelf lines one wall filled with a hodgepodge of books, everything from gardening manuals to steamy romances.
“This is nice,” I concede, taking a step inside and rubbing my thumb along the edge of the quilt almost absently.
“Told you you’d like this room better. There’s an attached bathroom over there,” she points towards a door to my left. “Over there is the door to the balcony, but that thing was rickety when I was here the last time, and I doubt my aunt has had any work done to it so step at your own risk.”
“Stay off the balcony, noted.”
“Alright, let’s go down and grab our stuff. I know I am tired from the drive, and I know you have to be since you didn’t sleep. You can get the trip washed off you while I grab groceries and whip up a quick dinner before we both pass out.”
I force a smile, but something deeper churns within me, a whirlwind of apprehension that I can’t quite place. “Sounds good,” I agree, not wanting to disrupt the light mood hanging in the air like a cherished secret.
We retrace our steps down the hallway and into the foyer. Keira bursts through the front door, and I follow close behind, lost in thoughts of what lies ahead. The car sits quiet in the driveway, its metallic exterior reflecting the fading light.
I bend down to pop open the trunk while Keira scurries around to her side. She pulls out oversized bags filled with clothes and essentials.
“Not everything is as bad as you think, B. Trust me,” she says as she hefts a bag over her shoulder with an ease.
“Yeah? Then why do I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Because you’re too used to looking over your shoulder,” she replies softly, taking a step closer as if her presence could shield me from the demons in my mind. “But this is different. We’re safe here.”
“Safe,” I repeat skeptically.
I can’t help but wonder if it will last.