Chapter Twenty-Two
T anner had chosen seats near the boarding lane because he could see the entrance and most of the room without moving much.
It also meant he could get to the bus fast when it came in.
That had seemed smart twenty minutes ago.
Now it just meant he was stuck with nowhere to hide and too many people passing close by.
Savannah sat on his lap with her rabbit pinned under one arm and one hand twisted in the front of his hoodie. She’d cried on and off the whole walk there, had gone quiet for ten minutes once he bought her a juice she barely drank, then started up again when she realized they weren’t going home.
“Home,” she whispered into his neck.
Tanner rubbed her back. “Soon.” The word came out too rough.
Savannah pulled back and looked at him with wet lashes and a blotchy little face. “Now.”
“Not now.”
“Want home.”
His swallowed hard. “I know.”
She didn’t, though. That was the problem.
She didn’t know anything except that he’d packed bags, put her shoes on her, and marched her out of the house before dinner.
She didn’t know what follow-up assessment meant.
Didn’t know the difference between standard wording and a threat.
Didn’t know why his body still remembered sixteen better than nineteen.
She just wanted home.
Tanner looked up at the departure board again. Seven minutes until their bus came.
He shifted Savannah higher on his lap and checked the room.
Entrance doors. Ticket desk. Man in a work jacket with a duffel.
Old guy asleep against the wall. Nobody looked at them for more than a second.
That should have helped but it didn’t. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing no matter how much he tried to stop it.
Savannah followed his gaze to the doors. “Miles coming?”
Tanner swallowed. “No.” He couldn’t think about him. Not now that they were leaving.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s not.”
“Want Miles.”
He could still picture how Miles would have looked if he’d been there when the letter came.
Calm and steady. He would have taken the paper from Tanner’s hand, read it, looked up, and said something reasonable.
Something careful. He would have been right.
That was the worst part. He probably would have been right.
Tanner didn’t need right. He needed Savannah where no one could assess her or take her away.
“Drink,” he said, pulling the bottle from the side pocket of the bag.
Savannah took two sips and pushed it away. “Home.”
He put the bottle back harder than he meant to. He’d done the right thing. He’d had to.
Four days was enough time for him to pack properly, but it also meant four days to think himself into staying. Four days to let people talk him around. Four days for someone to smile at him and say assessment didn’t mean anything bad. Better to move now and to get ahead of it.
He looked at Savannah’s face and felt something sink inside. Then why does this feel so bad? He shut that thought down fast.
A bus station was a step between places. He’d figure out where to stay for a night or two. Then another if he had to. Somewhere cheap. Somewhere no one knew them. Long enough for him to work out the next move.
He checked his cash again even though he already knew what was there. He didn’t have enough, but it was enough to start.
“Tanny.”
He looked at Savannah. She’d gone still in his lap in the way she did right before another round of tears. Her mouth trembled. “I don’t like it.”
His hand went to the back of her head at once. “It’s alright.”
“No.”
People moved around them. The board flicked and updated with a clicking sound that made Tanner’s whole body tense before he even looked.
Bay three. On time. Five minutes.
Savannah’s fingers tightened in his hoodie. “Home.”
Tanner could hear the plea in her voice now.
A man passed close enough that Tanner shifted immediately, turning Savannah’s body inward and pulling the bags tighter under his legs.
Tanner’s eyes kept moving. Who had looked too long.
Who might be staff. Who might know him from town even if he didn’t know them.
He kept picturing someone from the preschool coming in for a bus and stopping dead when they saw him with bags and Savannah crying.
He pictured a phone lifted. A call made.
Questions he couldn’t answer without sounding guilty.
He stood and adjusted Savannah who made a distressed sound. “No.”
“We’re getting ready.”
“For what?”
“The bus.”
She stared at him, then twisted to look out toward the bays.
The bus rolled up outside with a hiss of brakes and Tanner’s pulse raced.
People around him were moving to get on the bus.
A line formed to get on the bus. Tanner picked up the bags in one hand, kept Savannah on his hip, and stared at the bus doors folding open.
Savannah started crying properly now. She buried her face in his neck and clung. “Home,” she sobbed.
Tanner swallowed so hard it hurt. “We can’t.”
“Why?”
A bus driver shouted something about boarding and the line moved forward. Somebody bumped Tanner’s elbow and apologized. He barely heard it. His eyes were locked on the open door of the bus. One step and they were on. One step and this part was done.
But he couldn’t move.
The panic that had driven him out of the house had changed. Back there it had hit hard and he’d reacted. Here it felt stupid while Savannah cried for the thing he’d taken her away from.
He turned slightly, like maybe he could sit back down. Like maybe he could—
Someone came in through the side entrance. Tanner saw him without meaning to. Dark jacket. Jeans. Steady walk. Hands empty. Eyes already on him.
Miles.
Everything in Tanner froze.
Not because Miles had done anything wrong, but because he was there. Some part of Tanner had hoped nobody would find them until he had enough time to make this feel like a plan instead of him running.
Savannah hiccupped against his shoulder and clung harder.
Miles didn’t rush him and he didn’t call out. He came close enough into the room that Tanner couldn’t miss him, then slowed.
Tanner’s grip tightened on the bag straps until it bit into his fingers.
He had to run.
The thought hit hard. But run where? Onto the bus? Back through the entrance? Past him? Through a station full of strangers while carrying Savannah and two bags and not enough cash?
Miles came closer, angling in from the side where Tanner could see him, and that detail caught his attention.
“Home,” Savannah whispered again, but this time it sounded worn out, almost defeated.
Tanner could feel Miles getting closer without looking. Could feel the pressure of his presence in the room.
When Tanner finally looked at him fully, Miles stopped. Tanner looked him over. No badge out, no radio clipped where Tanner could see it. He hadn’t come here as a deputy. He’d come as Miles, and Tanner wanted to go to him but—
“Boarding now,” the bus driver called. Tanner looked at the open doors then back at Miles.
He could hear his own breathing. Too fast and too loud to his own ears. He shifted Savannah higher and felt how badly his arms were shaking.
Miles took one more careful step and then stopped.
Tanner stared at him and knew that this was either where he got on the bus or where everything he had been holding together started to break.