Page 4 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

“I still can’t believe this is the same car.” Gemma smiled from her position at the door.

“Remember that time when we sat in the back and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes?”

“Don’t remind me.” She grimaced. “I still can’t stand the smell of smoke. I think I puked that entire night.”

“We thought we were so tough at sixteen.”

“We were.”

We were. Along the years, we’d gotten soft. Maybe we’d used up all our tough to survive. Or maybe we’d forgotten how harsh the world could truly be.

“I wish I were tougher in here.” I tapped my heart.

Her lip curled. “I hate him for this.”

“Me too.” I swallowed hard, not letting the emotions overwhelm me. Thomas had gotten all the tears he was going to get. “More than anything, I’m mad at myself. I should have known better. I should have seen him for who he truly was.”

Loyalty wasn’t a common theme in my life. I hadn’t had it from my parents or the many strangers who’d drifted in and out over the years as temporary friends. I’d expected it from my husband.

“Fuck him.”

“Fuck him.” Gemma walked to the other side, helping me peel the tarp off the back and fold it into a square. Maybe the gardener could use it for something.

I opened the trunk of the car, the smell of metal and new upholstery wafting into the air. I smiled, taking in the wide space. I’d stowed a lot of things in the trunk once. I’d had it organized and sectioned to perfection. Food on the left side. Clothes and shoes on the right.

I retrieved my suitcase, wheeling it over and loading it in the trunk. “I guess I’ve come full circle. This was my closet once. Now it is again.”

Gemma didn’t laugh. “Please, be careful.”

“It’s only a road trip, Gemma.” I slammed the trunk closed. “I’ll be fine.”

I walked to the driver’s side, opened the door and slid into my seat. The leather scent chased away the stale air. The dash was fairly dust-free given how long this had been sitting unused. I ran my fingers over the smooth white steering wheel.

A 1964 Cadillac DeVille convertible. My pride and joy.

The passenger door opened with a pop and Gemma took her seat.

“Smells good, right?”

She smiled as she shut the door. “A lot better than when you and Karson lived here.”

“Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“It was.” She ran her hand across the white leather seat—smooth as butter and smelling like money.

A lot of money. This car had been no more than rusted scrap when I’d paid to have it hauled from California to Boston. But I’d paid. Every dime put into this car was a dime I’d earned.

Thomas had made me sign a prenup when we’d gotten married. I’d been young and foolish. I hadn’t countered a single term. What the hell had I known about contracts and legal documents?

I’d learned though. Working for his company had taught me a lot. As much as I hated how our marriage had ended, Thomas had given me something invaluable.

An education.

He’d helped me get my GED. Then he’d put me to work. And damn it, I’d worked my ass off. As his assistant, I didn’t run to get his coffee or pick up dry cleaning. I proofread contracts. I built financial projections. I put together presentations for stakeholders and schmoozed potential investors with the best of them.

Thomas gave me rough ideas and projects. I added the polish.

Just like I’d done to this car.