Chapter 14 Emily
EMILY
The rain traced lines across the windshield, soft and steady. Wipers clicked back and forth. I gripped the wheel tighter and focused on the highway ahead.
The suitcase was in the trunk. Packed. Done. Next to it, Jason’s hoodie, balled up like it still held his shape. I had meant to give it back. I hadn’t.
The diner sign vanished first, swallowed by fog and drizzle. Then the lighthouse followed, a distant pulse in the gray. It blinked once. Then again. Then it was gone.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder. I didn’t look. Could’ve been my dad. Could’ve been Marla. Could’ve been Jason. I wasn’t ready to know.
The rain kept falling. Relentless. The kind that settled into your clothes and your ribs. My fingers curled tighter around the wheel.
This was the right choice. It had to be. A real job. A real paycheck. A fresh start in a city that once made sense. I had worked for this. Dreamed of it. I had chased it across internships and unpaid pitches and client meetings that stretched past midnight.
Now I had it.
So why did my chest feel hollow?
The road unspooled ahead. Clean lines. Clear direction. I could drive straight into the next chapter.
But I kept checking the mirror.
The view behind me shimmered through the glass. Just rain. Just sky. No headlights.
No one chasing.
I swallowed. My throat stayed tight.
I wanted him to stop me. I wanted him to say stay. He didn’t.
So I left.
That should have made it easier.
But the town still clung to me. The diner. The squeaky booths. The way the counter hummed when the coffee machine kicked on. The way Jason looked at me like he saw every version of me at once and didn’t flinch.
I kept driving.
Rain tapped the roof like a clock running out of time. The mirror showed nothing but gray.
No headlights.
No reason to turn around.
Except the ache in my chest that wouldn’t quiet.
And the hoodie in the trunk that still smelled like his cologne.