Paige #3
Where can I go that they won’t find me? Not to my apartment.
My next thought is to Alex’s but he’s left for New York, and I can’t go to the Whitakers’ house because that is the first place Mama would go to hunt me down when she starts her search.
It’s better to keep them out of it, anyway.
I’ll have to call to explain why Mama will inevitably harass Mrs. Whitaker for information on me.
I have very few friends and even fewer options, it seems.
I drive aimlessly along the dark Savannah River sparkling with the reflection of the streetlights before turning inland when it becomes obvious I can’t exactly run from my problems here in Savannah. It’s too small, too familiar, and too easy for Mama to know exactly where to find me.
I turn down a dark street, pull over, and finally look up, shocked to find myself across the street from The Abyss, which is dark and the street empty, probably because it’s closed on Sundays.
I must have driven here without realizing it.
At least I’m across town from Mama and Daddy’s house, in the opposite direction of my apartment, and far enough from The Mansion that I’ve removed any possibilities of running into them should they come for me.
I park on the street and sit with my hands still gripping the steering wheel.
With the engine off, I can hear my phone vibrating from my bag on the seat next to me and I grudgingly fish it out.
Of course, it’s lit up with notifications and missed calls from Mama. I quickly text Alex.
Paige: My parents are crazy fools who want to marry me off to, get this, Garrison Daniels *vomit*. I’m in hiding after fleeing Sunday dinner, but you might wanna let your folks know Mama will be on a warpath and she’ll start with them in her crusade to get me to bend the knee if I know her at all.
A few moments pass before a message from Alex vibrates the phone I’m tightly clutching.
Alex: *whistles* She’s lost it. I knew she was on the edge, but she’s the queen of crazy town, now. I’ll let my mama and daddy know, but don’t you worry. ?? The Whitakers have your back and my mom knows to protect your privacy after all these years of fielding off your mama’s insanity.
Paige: You’re my favorite, and I owe your parents something really nice for Hanukkah. I wish I could squeeze you one more time. I hope New York knows what a special person they have in their hands.
Alex: Roger that, Miss Debutante. You’ll have to come to visit after the holidays. Maybe New Year’s Eve? I think you need a vacation from the South and everything your parents have planned. Sending you hugs and strength. Don’t let her win!
My eyes burn as I turn off my phone and bury it deeper into my bag. I wish I could hide out with Alex like I used to in high school when Mama was on a tear. I look around the deserted street in bewilderment. Now what do I do?
I look up at the tall stone building that houses The Abyss to the glass greenhouse of Elysium. Hayes. The name whispers through my mind seductively, and I want to bat it away like an annoying mosquito.
He is nothing more to me than a brief acquaintance I may have a raging bourbon crush on. He doesn’t owe me sanctuary as I once again run away from something I don’t like. He’s probably back in Atlanta, anyway.
God, what would I even say if he was in residence at The Abyss? Hi, can you hide me from my parents and the arranged marriage they think is a good idea? I laugh bitterly at my thoughts and feel wetness creep into my eyes. I brush away the moisture, refusing to cry over this.
“Paige?”
I jump at the unexpected voice and turn to look over the passenger seat. The Cobra is an open convertible, so I have no shelter to hide from someone who knows me and will inevitably report back to Mama.
“Hayes?” I squeak.
Did I seriously just conjure the man with a thought? If I’m that good at manifesting, how did I end up in this crazy situation with my family wanting to marry me off to freaking Garrison Daniels of all people?
“What are you doing here?”
I look at his sweaty T-shirt and the running shorts he’s wearing—they are short enough to see his beautiful, massive thighs—and deduce exactly what he was doing and also the absurdity of my question when I’m the one sitting outside of his nightclub.
“I thought you would have gone back to Atlanta,” I say in explanation for my dumb question. I press my fingers to my forehead and squeeze my eyes shut. This is so stupid.
“I was planning to go back after my run. Are you okay?” He bends down and plants his hands on the passenger door to lean into the low car, coming so close to me, given the car’s small size, that I can smell his divine scent mingling with the sweat from his run.
I blink to make sure the frustrated tears are gone and swipe under my eyes at any running mascara. “Just peachy.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice taking on a dark tone that has my eyes snapping up to meet his. “Did someone hurt you?”
I shake my head until my wind-tangled hair whips over my shoulders. “No, nothing as simple as that.”
“Then why the tears? A girl like you shouldn’t be crying on a beautiful evening like this.”
“It’s nothing you can help with,” I say rather than begging for his help.
I know this is a problem I have to deal with instead of pushing it off on someone else. I’m no damsel in need of saving, but why does it feel like I can pour my heart out to him?
“Do I need to pull you out of this car, throw you over my shoulder, and march you inside to get you to tell me what’s going on?
” His smooth voice grows gravely, and I feel that weird pull in my belly that zips straight to my lady bits.
He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before with just his voice alone. I shiver involuntarily at the thought.
“Wouldn’t that be considered going caveman on me? This is the post-Me, Too era; you can’t just throw a woman over your shoulder and march her anywhere,“ I joke, which is easier than admitting how messed up my world just became or facing my confusing feelings where he is involved.
“Honey, if caveman gets you to tell me what’s got you crying and lets me fix it, I’ll do it. Besides, there’s a lot I can and will do, even if you think I just can’t.”