Page 82 of Riptide
But the truth was, she could barely think straight. Every time the bell above the door chimed, she flinched, expecting Blaire. Every time her phone buzzed, her heart stopped.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Thank you."
She untied her apron and headed for the stairs, feeling Diane's worried gaze on her back the whole way.
Her apartment felt smaller than usual. Quieter. The afternoon light slanted through the windows, catching dust motes in the air, making everything look fragile and temporary.
Because it was temporary. All of it.
Cara sat at her kitchen table and stared at the wall.
No amount of money would fix this—she knew that better than anyone. Even if she somehow scraped together fifty thousand dollars, Blaire would only come back for more. That's how blackmail worked. That's how people like Blaire worked.
Paying wasn't an option. It never had been.
Which left only one real choice.
She could run.
Cara stood and walked to her closet. Pushed aside hanging clothes until she found it—the go-bag she'd packed her first week in Haven Cove. The one she'd told herself she'd never need.
She pulled it out. Unzipped it. Checked the contents mechanically.
Cash—two thousand dollars in twenties and fifties. A burner phone, still in its packaging. A change of clothes. A baseball cap and cheap sunglasses. A bus schedule for routes heading south.
Everything she needed to disappear again.
She could be gone in an hour. Out of Haven Cove before dinner. Ditch the Subaru and board a bus to California by midnight. New town, new name, new life. She'd done it before. She could do it again.
Cara sat on the edge of her bed, the go-bag in her lap, and stared at the wall.
Six months ago, running would have been automatic. Instinctive. The only logical choice.
But six months ago, she hadn't had Diane covering her shifts without being asked. Hadn't had Reagan showing up with soup at midnight. Hadn't had Wade appearing out of nowhere at three AM because he was worried about her.
Hadn't had a team willing to break laws for her. A found family that had somehow become more real than any blood relation she'd ever known.
Hadn't had Gabe.
Gabe, who looked at her like she was worth something. Who'd crossed lines he shouldn't have crossed to protect her. Who still didn't know the truth but had chosen to trust her anyway.
If she ran, she'd lose all of that. Forever.
And she'd spend the rest of her life being Carly Reid again. Running. Hiding. Alone.
Cara zipped the bag closed and shoved it back into the closet.
She wasn't running. Not this time.
Whatever happened next, she was going to face it. Here. With the people who'd chosen to stand beside her.
She didn't remember deciding to pray. One moment she was sitting on her bed, staring at nothing. The next, she was on her knees, forehead pressed against the mattress, words spilling out of her in a desperate whisper.
"I don't know what to do. I've tried everything I know how to try and none of it's working. I'm out of moves. Out of plans. Out of time."
The silence of the apartment pressed in around her.
"I know I don't deserve help. I know I've done terrible things. I know this whole life is built on lies and fraud and I have no right to ask for anything."
