Page 72 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

“Because.” My heart hurt. The fears were working themselves free, the feelings I’d buried for so, so long. “Because what if he leaves me before I can leave him?”

That was the reason I ran, wasn’t it? To get away from the big hurt. Maybe the reason I’d been able to stay with Thomas all these years was because I hadn’t expected the end to hurt. It hadn’t much.

Maybe the reason I’d felt trapped in Boston wasn’t because I’d stayed in one place, but because that one place hadn’t been the right place.

That goddamn Pottery Barn picnic basket flashed in my mind. Another woman didn’t get to use that basket. It was mine.

So was Brooks.

“Turn the car around, Londyn,” she said. “I’d give it all up—the company, the money, the power—to just feel something.”

Feelings for other people wasn’t my problem. Sure, I ran from those feelings, but they were there, right on the surface. Not Gemma. As far as I knew, she’d never been in love.

“Don’t waste it,” she whispered.

I was throwing it away. I was driving away from a man who just might turn out to be the love of my life. I was driving away from a home.

“I kept having this feeling when I was walking around Summers—that’s the town where I was. I felt . . . settled. Like things were calm in my soul. Do you think that’s what it feels like to be home?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt at home. But if I had to guess, I’d say yes.”

Yes. Summers was home.

Brooks was home.

“I need to go.”

Gemma laughed. “Is this a real number now? Can I call you?”

“Yeah.” I smiled. “This is my number.”

“Bye.”

“Wait,” I called before she could hang up. “Thanks.”

“I miss you. Maybe I’ll come visit you in—where are you?”

“West Virginia.”

“West Virginia,” she repeated. “Call me later.”

“I will.” I tossed the phone aside, sitting straighter in my seat. With both hands on the wheel, I eased off the gas pedal, searching the road ahead for a place to turn around. Of course, when I needed to flip a U-turn, there was nothing but a steep ditch and trees lining the road.

My eyes were on the shoulder when the car lurched. I gasped, snapping my gaze to the road. What the hell? Had I hit something?

I looked in the rearview mirror, jerking when my eyes landed on a large truck riding my bumper.

While I’d been on the phone with Gemma, I hadn’t noticed it creep up on me.

“What the hell?” I muttered to the mirror, alternating my eyes on the road and the truck behind me.

Had he bumped me? Why would he hit my car? I was going ten miles an hour under the speed limit. Ten. Was contact necessary? Why not just pass me and be done with it?

I lifted my arm, waving him around, but as I watched through the mirror, the grill of the truck inched closer. My arms tensed and my grip on the wheel hardened. I braced for another bump.

It was no bump.

“Ah!” I screamed as he rammed me. The Cadillac lurched again, twice as hard as the first time.