Chapter 3
AVERY
"You have to pay for gas," I mutter at the infuriating man behind the wheel as he steers us out of my apartment complex.
His truck probably gets a quarter of the gas mileage my little hybrid hatchback does. It's one thing to be stuck with the man but there was no reason we couldn't have taken my car.
Booker laughs without looking at me. The sound is natural and genuine and when I look over at him, the smile that remains has transformed his features into a new kind of handsome. Something less intimidating than the perma-scowl he's been wearing since I opened my apartment door.
For a moment, my imagination latches onto an image of what it might be like if we really were a couple; heading back to my hometown to spend Christmas with my family, excited to announce our engagement.
The thought sends a thrill through my body that quickly goes cold when I remind myself how ridiculous the idea of me and Booker as a couple is.
"I'll bill your brother for the gas," he tells me, pulling onto the freeway headed north.
"Valid," I agree with a smirk before helping myself to the truck's stereo system to pair the Bluetooth to my phone so we can listen to some decent music.
Booker stares at me while I follow the prompts, that scowl back on his face, but he doesn't say anything.
Then I lean back in the luxurious leather seat and adjust it to my liking.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice I get another scowl but this time there's something softer behind it.
Booker doesn't seem to be much for conversation, so I hit play on the playlist I'd expected to be enjoying in the privacy of my own car for this road trip, pull my feet up under me, and open up my social media feeds.
After updating my posts, I shoot a series of texts at Caspian.
me: You suck.
me: I hate you.
me:
me: You promised you were coming to Christmas this year.
me: I can't believe you're making me ride all the way back with your grumpy friend.
Surprisingly, Cap responds almost right away.
Cap: Book's not grumpy. Must be something you did.
Cap: Be nice to him, he's keeping you safe...I love you, Avy. Do what he says.
It's not like my brother to type out a full-on I love you in a text. He tells me all the time if we're just talking but spelling it out isn't his style.
Either someone else has his phone, or things are worse than I think they are.
Booker
Avery doesn't ask permission to pair her phone to my truck's Bluetooth. It should irritate the fuck out of me to see the new user added to the system, and I tell myself it does.
By the time we've gotten out of the city traffic, and the strip malls and car dealerships give way to desert scenery outside the windows, Avery's managed to completely screw with the passenger seat positioning until I'm not sure I'll ever get it back to normal.
Now she's curled up over there, with her feet tucked up under her like she's at home on the sofa watching a movie.
Taylor Swift is blasting from my sound system-- because of course she is-- but Avery's stopped singing along, her attention focused on her phone.
Our trip started off with Avy's voice bouncing off my ear drums in every conceivable way; from the barrage of questions about my personal life, my friendship with her brother, and how long she's stuck with me, to the singing along with every damn song on her playlist, to requests to pull over every half hour when she saw something she thought was interesting enough to take a picture of.
Now she's gone quiet, leaving me alone with Taylor.
Lowing the volume, I glance over at my passenger. She doesn't seem to notice the music going quiet around us, or my attention shifting onto her.
Avery chews the pad of her thumb, her brows knitted together in worry as she scrolls through her phone with an expression that's a lot less cheerful than it was earlier.
"Everything okay?"
With a mind of its own, my hand reaches toward her. My fingertips brush her knee before I remember she's not mine to touch.
Playing fiancé is just a cover so no one questions why I won't let her out of my sight, and that cover isn't really needed while we're just driving up the highway.
"Mm? Oh. I was just getting caught up."
Avery doesn't flinch at my touch, but I don't allow it to linger either.
With both my hands back on the wheel, Avery shifts in the passenger seat, extending her legs and stretching her body, catlike, with her arms over her head, hands pressed against the roof of the cab before they fall back to her lap.
"He really got out." She finally says, her voice barely loud enough to hear over the noise of tires on the road, her unfocused gaze aimed out the window beside her. "They don't even know where he is."
"You scared?"
I turn my head to look at her as fully as I can without taking my eyes off the road too long. I need to see her micro-expressions-- watch the unconscious reactions registering in her body language while she plasters on that sunshine smile and insist she's not worried.
"That's why you're here, right? To keep me safe?"
But her fingers fiddle with the phone on her lap, her head tilted downward while the real question lingers under the light tone of her teasing.
Avy's scared, all right, and she doesn't know how far I'll go to make sure she stays safe.
"You're safe, Ave," I assure her, my eyes back on the road stretching out ahead of us. "I promised your brother I wouldn't let you out of my sight till they catch that asshole. I told you, I keep my promises. That's how you ended up with a fiancé for the holiday, remember?"
Reaching to give her hand a squeeze, I ignore the way the sound of her laugh lights up something inside me that I thought was dead.
I swear, making Avery feel safe is the only reason I pick up the conversation, sharing my life story with her while the Nevada desert yawns past us and listening to hers as Nevada grays turn to Utah reds in the rocky landscape.
I blame the off key, karaoke through Idaho on too many hours of driving and letting Avery talk me into stopping at the third drive thru coffee shop because "it's so cute, we have to try it."
We're in the Montana mountains, it's late, there's ice on the road, and a storm threatening to leave us stranded.
"We need to get off the road."
I steer toward the motel with the vacancy sign lit in flashing neon under the words "Last Hope Inn."
I'm expecting an argument from Avery, but she seems just as eager to get off the road. I think losing traction on the ice a few miles back was enough to dull her eternal sunshine. Or maybe the long day is catching up to her.
The first text comes in while I'm holding the office door open for her.