Page 2 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

I squeezed her hands tight and shook my head. “I’m going. I need to go. You of all people should understand.”

“Wait just a little longer. Let things settle down here,” she pleaded. “People get divorced every day.”

“They do.” I nodded. “But this isn’t about the divorce. It’s me. I’m sick of this life.”

“So you’re running away?”

I rolled my eyes. “You make it seem so extreme for someone who’s done the same, but yes. I am running away.” Again. “Sometimes it’s for the best.”

She couldn’t argue. She’d run away before and look at her now. Successful. Wealthy. Stunning. No one would suspect that she’d spent her teenage years living in a junkyard outside Temecula, California.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Fine.”

She didn’t like this idea of mine, but she understood. My divorce had been brutal and heartbreaking. It had been the nuclear bomb to my life I’d needed. It was forcing a fresh start. Besides, I was good at starting over. I’d done it countless times in my twenty-nine years.

What was one more?

As of Thursday last week, I was single. I’d already changed my last name back to McCormack, and with my new driver’s license in hand, I was not sticking around Boston any longer.

“I hate that you’re doing this alone.” Gemma sighed. “I’ll worry.”

“I’ll be fine.” I returned to my suitcase, folding a hoodie for the stack.

It was one of the few pieces I’d had in my closet that I’d set out to pack. It was thick and gray, the hems battered by a designer, not from use. The thing had no stretch. I’d worn it only once when Thomas had taken me sailing years ago, when we’d seemed happy.

This sweatshirt was a lot like my marriage. It looked cute but didn’t quite fit.

I took the hoodie out of the suitcase and tossed it on the bed.

“What if you get hurt?” Gemma asked.

“Give me some credit.” I rolled my eyes. “I have money. I have a car. I’m running away in style. It’ll be a breeze.”

“When are you coming back?”

Never. “I don’t know.”

“Will you call me? Check in periodically?”

“Yes, but you have to promise not to tell Thomas where I’m at.”

She scoffed. “That son of a bitch comes anywhere near me, I’ll rip his balls off.”

I laughed. “There’s my best friend. Glad to see some of the polish come off.”

“Just with you.” She smiled. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” I abandoned the suitcase and met her at the foot of the bed for a hug.

We’d been through a lot together over the last thirteen years. Gemma and I had met one night in an alley. She’d saved me from eating half a sandwich I’d dug out of a Dumpster.

There’d been times when she’d gone her way and I’d gone mine, but we’d ended up together in Boston. We’d become closer than ever, serving as each other’s refuge as we’d climbed up the ranks of Boston’s elite and wealthy.

I’d married into my money. Gemma had earned hers.

I finished packing, loading up my purse with the cash I’d taken out yesterday and my wallet. Then I zipped up my suitcase and hefted it down the hallway to the front door.

My keys were on the table in a dish. I took the bundle in my hand and removed only one to take along.