Chapter 5
Max
Itold her to take her time, and I meant it, but now I’m standing here at Layover Latte, trying not to look like the kind of guy who expects anything from anyone.
I ordered a coffee just to keep my hands busy but haven’t taken a sip. It’s probably cold now but throwing it away would be admitting defeat, and I’m not ready to call this yet.
She said five minutes. It’s been seven.
I shouldn’t care. She’s a stranger. A beautiful, tired, deeply stressed stranger with a voice that cracked when she asked about flights, and a mouth that almost smiled when she grilled me like I was applying to date her while driving her across the country.
Something about her got to me.
Not in the obvious way—though she is beautiful, but it’s quieter than that. The way she carries herself like she’s holding something heavy. The way her eyes stay sharp even when she’s unraveling.
I shift my weight from foot to foot, scanning the terminal again. She’s not there. Maybe she changed her mind. Decided to stay safe, stay grounded, stay away from people who throw insane offers at her and ask her to trust them blindly.
I wouldn’t blame her for deciding against it, but then… she appears.
Coming from across the walkway toward me, she has her backpack slung over her shoulder, and her jaw is tight with determination.
My heart is beating way too loudly for a guy who’s trying to remain calm and collected. Keeping my face neutral, I tighten my grip on the paper cup. Her brows are still drawn, but her chin lifts slightly, and there’s a steadiness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
“I have an interview at two tomorrow. Do you think we can make it?”
I glance at my watch.
“It’s nine fifteen. LA’s about twenty-two hours out, give or take. Add in a few stops for gas and food…”
I look back at her.
“If we leave now, we’ll get there by noon.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“You’re willing to drive nonstop just to help out a stranger?”
I give her a half smile.
“Let’s call it my good deed for the year.”
She smiles, and just like that, I know she’s coming with me.
With her walking a half step behind me, we stay silent. Her hands are deep in her sleeves, and I’m trying to think of something casual to say that won’t come off weird.
Nothing comes.
We step out through the automatic doors and into the early morning heat. The parking garage is full of people trying to escape the airport, and I’m hyperaware of how quiet she is beside me.
I finally ask.
“You okay with the A/C on blast? It’s supposed to be ninety-five today.”
She nods.
“I’m from Florida. I’ve sweated through worse.”
I smile at that. Quiet but genuine.
When we turn the corner, I pause at the car waiting in one of the reserved spots. A clean, polished, brand new bright-blue Mercedes-Benz G Class.
Her brows raised, she asks.
“Rental’s a little...presidential, isn’t it?”
I glance at the chrome trim.
“Yeah. Guess my job splurged.”
“Must be nice,”
she says, giving the car one more glance before turning back to me.
“How’d you even get one? All the rental companies are wiped out.”
“My job hooked me up,”
I repeat, keeping it vague and as close to the truth as possible.
I walk around to unlock the doors and pop the back.
She hesitates for half a second, then climbs into the passenger seat with her backpack held between her knees.
Before buckling in, she takes in the space, cataloging every detail as if she plans to file a full report with the FBI the second she escapes from this voluntary kidnapping.
“You can get comfortable,”
I say, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Put your bag in the back if you want.”
She shakes her head.
“No, I’m good.”
Then she reaches into the front pocket of her backpack and pulls out a charger.
“Can I connect my phone? I’m gonna need directions, music, proof of life…”
“Yeah, of course.”
I point to the USB port and screen. She plugs in, and her playlist appears on the touchscreen.
Taylor Swift. Adele. Lizzo. A few playlists titled things like Sad Girl Energy and Don’t Text Him.
She makes a face.
“I swear I listen to normal music too.”
“No judgment,”
I say, easing out of the parking spot.
“Honestly, this might be exactly what we need.”
As soon as we exit the parking garage, we hit a wall of traffic. Flashing signs, temporary barriers, and construction cones stretching as far as the eye can see.
I sigh under my breath.
She glances at me.
“Welcome to Houston.”
“This is going to be a long drive, isn’t it?”
She nods. “Very.”
And just like that, we merge into the mess. Side by side, two strangers trying to outrun everything behind us.