Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Sunday found herself genuinely enjoying Kennedy’s company as they wandered through town.
They strolled along the sidewalks, pausing to window shop and laugh at the odd treasures behind the glass.
Even with the hundred dollars she’d quietly taken from what Monday had left her, Sunday had no intention of spending it on something frivolous.
Just having it in her pocket felt like enough.
“Let’s go in here,” Kennedy said, pointing to the general store. It seemed like every small town had one or a Dollar General at the very least.
Sunday leaned in and asked quietly, “Do you think they might have intimates?”
Kennedy shot her a sly look, one brow raised.
“Oh—no! Not those kinds of intimates,” Sunday laughed, cheeks warming with embarrassment. “I mean... I need panties and bras.” “Don’t you have those things Sunday?”
“My situation didn’t allow me to take anything,” Sunday said quietly. “Other than what I’ve got on, I have two shirts, a pair of jeans that don’t fit, and these.”
She glanced down and nudged her worn sneakers. “I need better footwear.”
Kennedy burst out laughing, catching Sunday off guard. “Girl, we’re more alike than you think,” Kennedy said, grinning. “When Cree came for me, I didn’t have anything either. Just the clothes on my back and a head start on the thugs my boss sent after me.”
Kennedy caught the look on Sunday’s face and grinned. “We need a bottle of wine to swap stories. I can already tell we’ve got more in common than I thought.” She slipped her arm through Sunday’s with easy familiarity.
As they reached the entrance, Kennedy pulled open the door to the General Store. “Come on, let’s get you some intimates.”
Just then, Cree appeared nearby. “You ladies heading in for something specific?” he asked, his gaze flicking between them with casual interest.
“Yes, Sunday needs intimates,” Kennedy said, completely straight-faced.
Cree’s eyes fluttered shut like he was trying to unhear the words.
Past him, she spotted Texas turning around, suddenly fascinated by the store window, his shoulders shaking with the effort not to laugh.
“You two are grown-ass men,” Kennedy snapped. “If buying panties embarrasses you, stay out here.”
“Oh, hell no,” Texas shot back. “They’ve got a killer knife shop inside.”
“Knives?” Cree’s head snapped up, a grin spreading across his face. He looked at Kennedy. “Well, get going, woman, you’re holding things up.”
As Kennedy and Cree disappeared inside, Texas reached out and gently caught Sunday’s hand, holding her back a moment. “Do you need some money?”
“I’ve got what I took from Monday,” she said, her voice a little hesitant.
“Will that be enough?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced toward the store. “I’m not sure how much things cost around here.”
Texas pulled out his wallet and peeled off two hundred dollars, holding it out to her. “If that’s not enough, let me know. You need clothes that actually fit and better shoes.”
It took everything in her not to argue. Taking his money felt heavy, like it came with a weight she hadn’t earned. But she would pay him back somehow, someday for everything he’d done for her and everything he still was.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Then, without giving herself time to overthink it, Sunday grabbed him by the shirt collar and tugged him down into a kiss—one meant for the whole town to see.
Texas didn’t mind being kissed by Sunday—not one bit. He liked it. And he didn’t care who saw them together. He knew people were watching too; it was Friday night downtown, and the sidewalks were full.
Families headed toward the park where a movie was playing under the stars, while others lined up at the food trucks parked along the street, the scent of fried dough and grilled meats hanging in the crisp fall air.
Couples strolled hand in hand, kids darted between benches, and laughter floated on the breeze.
But none of it mattered. Not when Sunday kissed him like that.
Texas held the door open for Sunday, letting her step inside first before following her in. He draped an arm around her shoulders, casually pulling her close as they wandered through the store. It didn’t take long to spot Cree and Kennedy near the back.
“Okay, ladies,” Texas said with a teasing smile, “please don’t disappear on us without a heads-up.”
“Same goes for you boys.” Sunday joked as Kennedy dragged her away from Texas.
They weaved through the crowd of locals browsing storefronts, the evening alive with chatter and footsteps. Kennedy suddenly squealed, clapping her hands like a kid on Christmas morning. Grabbing Sunday’s hand, she pulled her into a faster pace.
“Where are you dragging me now, Kennedy?” Sunday asked, struggling to keep up.
Kennedy swung the door open to a second-hand clothing store and grinned over her shoulder. “A second-hand store. Trust me.”
“Oh, this is perfect,” Sunday said, her excitement growing. A second-hand store meant her money would stretch a lot farther than at those other places. You’d think St. Tite was Rodeo Drive with the way some of those stores priced things.
“I need clothes more suitable for riding the bike. And some for work, too.” Sunday paused, trying to think of everything she needed. “Damn, I should’ve made a list.”
Kennedy laughed, caught up in Sunday’s excitement. She was right, they were going to be great friends. Kennedy could definitely use someone like Sunday.
“Just remember,” Kennedy said with a smile, “you can always come back.”
Sunday gave her new bestie a wide grin as they moved deeper into the shop.
Wandering through the aisles, Sunday dug through a rack of jeans, searching for her size or at least something that fit better than what she already owned. After a few moments, she pulled four pairs from the rack and headed toward the dressing rooms.
On her way, she spotted Kennedy deep in another rack, browsing through slacks. Sunday waved to get her attention and pointed toward the dressing rooms. Once Kennedy nodded back, Sunday continued toward the row of small fitting rooms.
She asked for a dressing room and slipped into the last one, closing the door behind her.
It didn’t take long to try on all four pairs of jeans, but none fit right.
Standing barefoot on a small pile of discarded denim, Sunday stared at her thin reflection in the mirror and felt a familiar sting of self-loathing.
A soft knock on the door startled her, pulling her out of the spiral.
“Sunday, how’s it going?” Kennedy called through the door.
“Not great. I need a smaller size.”
“Alright, give me those,” Kennedy said without hesitation. She didn’t ask for specifics, just grabbed two smaller pairs to try. Some girls didn’t like talking about their weight, she reminded herself.
A few minutes later, Kennedy returned and tossed the jeans over the door. Then she waited.
After about five minutes, the door opened. “How’d those fit?”
“They both fit,” Sunday said.
“Awesome. So, what else do you need for now?”
With the spring weather still on the cooler side, Sunday realized she needed something warmer. “Some long-sleeved shirts. Not blouses. Thermals, maybe. And a jacket.”
Kennedy glanced down at Sunday’s worn sneakers. “What about boots?”
“If we can find some that fit me.”
Kennedy smiled. “I bought a pair in a second-hand store in South Dakota that are divine.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” She pointed to the boots she was wearing. “Still rocking these puppies.”
“Oh, those are nice,” Sunday said, genuinely impressed.
“They feel like butter,” Kennedy said, nodding toward the rows of shirts. “You go look for tops while I hit the shoe aisle. What size do you wear?”
“Seven and a half.”
“Me too.”
“It’s the most common size,” Sunday said with a small sigh. Which probably meant they wouldn’t have anything that actually fit her.
As Sunday headed toward the rows of shirts, her eyes caught movement near the front windows and she froze. Her mouth went dry, the spit vanished. Heart pounding, she took a few steps back, then ducked low and slipped quickly through the store.
She needed to find Kennedy. Spotting her near the back, Sunday crouched down, almost crawling between the racks to reach her friend.
Kennedy’s eyes widened as she saw the terror etched on Sunday’s face. She recognized that look; the same one she’d worn when running for her life. “Who? Where?” she asked, her voice low but urgent.
“Someone who attacked me. They just walked past the store window,” Sunday whispered.
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
Kennedy studied her. “Would they recognize you?”
“My hair,” Sunday’s voice dropped to a hush, “It’s unnaturally white—like a beacon in the dark.”
Kennedy glanced toward the front of the store, her mind racing. “Go back to the dressing room and stay there until I come get you.”
“Okay.” Sunday kept her back to the front as she hurried back, silently praying the door would still be unlocked.
Kennedy’s voice followed her, low but steady. “Besides your hair. What about you,would they recognize you?”
Kennedy quickly texted Cree a “911” along with their location—no explanations, knowing he wouldn’t ask questions.
Moving swiftly down a row of accessories, she spotted a dark-colored scarf and grabbed it. On her way to the dressing rooms, she also picked up a dark jacket that should fit Sunday.
The bell over the door rang, pulling Kennedy’s attention to the front of the store. Cree and Texas were stepping inside, their expressions set and determined to find them. Kennedy raised her hand in a quick signal, motioning them over.
“Wow, you must have been close by,” Kennedy said, her eyes scanning the entrance.
“We were already heading here,” Cree replied, his tone sharp. “What’s going on? And where’s Sunday?”
“She recognized someone who attacked her,” Kennedy explained, her eyes shifting between Cree and Texas. When neither man said a word, she added, “I had her go into the dressing room.”
Without hesitation, Cree and Kennedy followed Texas toward the fitting rooms.
“Sunday.” Texas waited patiently as she unlocked the door. When it opened, he stepped inside and pulled her into a gentle hug.
Texas rubbed a comforting hand over her back. “Tell me what happened.”
He hated the fear still lingering in her eyes. “Are you okay now? What startled you?” he whispered softly to Sunday, but his gaze flicked to Kennedy and Cree who were both just as worried.
“I saw a friend of Dalton’s,” she said quietly.
Texas saw the change on Cree’s face—the easy calm gone, replaced by something harder—when Kennedy stepped back, maneuvering herself partially behind him. It riled Texas that he hadn’t been there when Sunday needed him most.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” he said firmly, his voice steady but fierce.
His eyes landed on the items Kennedy held, and he knew she understood the unspoken urgency, even if Sunday was still scared of him.
“What do you have, Kennedy?” he asked.
“I thought we could tie her hair up,” Kennedy said softly. “And I found her a jacket with a hood.”
“Good thinking. Can you buy those, along with anything else Sunday picks out, and bring the scarf and jacket back to me?” Texas instructed.
“I got it,” Cree said, gathering the items. He glanced at Kennedy and told her to stay. He knew she’d give him grief about it later, but she’d get over it.
Fifteen minutes later, Sunday’s hair was wrapped snugly in the scarf, the hood from the jacket pulled up over it.
After leaving the store, Texas hurried them back to the bikes. They’d barely made it down the street to where the bikes were parked when the first heavy drops of rain splattered the pavement.
“Ladies, this is gonna be a fast run,” Texas warned. He caught Kennedy’s thumbs-up in response. Sunday kept her head down, simply nodding, lost in her own thoughts.
Suddenly a cold splash of rain hit his face. “And it’s gonna be wet,” he added with a grim smile.
Cree clapped Texas on the shoulder. “After we get you home, we’re making a run for Montreal.”
“No. You two are staying with us at the house.”
A few more drops of rain fell, and Cree nodded in agreement and they’d stay.
Once their packages were stowed and the two couples were mounted on the bikes, they rolled out of town, heading for the farm.
Texas hadn’t lied, it was a fast, wet ride. By the time they reached the farmhouse, they were all drenched to the bone.