I stumble over my own feet and catch myself on the back of a chair. I really need to shift.
But first, I need to get out of here.
I gently grab Noah’s arm and pull him onto his feet.
“Work is over! Time to go!”
“What? Whoa-Mom!” he protests feebly as I practically drag him through the swinging door of the kitchen. I feel bad for being so forceful, but it’s imperative that I get him out of this place before Rowan goes apeshit. Noah doesn’t deserve to meet his father for the first time like this.
Josh glances up at us from his position at the grill, but he thinks nothing of it as I usher Noah down the hall toward the door that leads to the dumpster in the alleyway. It’s not typically how I leave work, but the front door wasn’t really an option.
“What are you doing? Where are we going?”
I squeeze Noah’s hand. “Home, of course!”
“Why are we walking so fast, though?”
“Because I just really want to go home! That’s all!”
I know he can probably see right through the false, chipper tone of my voice.
Sure enough, as I shove open the alleyway door and pull him around the dumpster and toward the parking lot tucked away at the back of The Diner, Noah lets out a huff of impatience.
“It’s because you need to shift, right?”
“Yep! That’s it! Get in the car, sweetheart.”
My hands fumble with the keys as I fling open the back door. It’s an effort not to shove Noah inside, but he’s fast enough on his own. I practically dive into the driver’s seat, but it takes me several tries to get the key in the ignition. I’m shaking like crazy, from panic, adrenaline, and my forcefully postponed shift.
There’s no sign of Rowan on our tail. Yet. There’s only so much that the Whiteroses will be able to do to slow him down-and I’m still surprised that they’d even bother in the first place-but at least they can buy us a few minutes. If I can at least get us home, then I can lock Noah inside, and then maybe I can talk Rowan into some kind of arrangement. I could play nice and ask him to come over tomorrow to meet Noah.
Then, when he’s gone, we’ll leave town and never look back. I’ve run away from him before. I can do it again. I just need to go further this time. Sure, I’ll miss Zahra, and Noah will have to start over at a new school, but he can make new friends easily enough. He’s introverted, but he’s a sweet kid. Naturally likable.
Just like Rowan, as much as it pains me to admit.
“Mom, what’s for dinner tonight?” Noah asks from the backseat as I drive way too fast down Main Street, then take a sharp left turn onto the narrow road that leads to our small house shrouded in the woods.
I take a deep breath to calm myself. I don’t know what kind of car Rowan drives, but there isn’t anyone following in the rearview mirror.
“What do you want for dinner?” I ask.
“Umm, pizza?”
“We had pizza two nights ago.”
“Can we not have it twice a week?”
“Well, it’s just not very nutritious.”
“I’ll eat broccoli on the side if that’ll make you happy.”
Despite my stress levels, I huff out a laugh. “There’s no need to lie, Noah.”
He giggles. “Okay, potatoes, then. That’s a vegetable.”
“That’s a starch.”
“What’s a starch? I thought that’s what you put in the laundry.”
“No, it’s-” I pause, glancing in the mirrors again. I curse loudly, then catch myself. “Sorry. Pardon my French.”
Noah twists in his seat to glance out the back window. There’s a black pickup truck catching up to us, and it’s not hard to identify Rowan behind the wheel.
“Whoa,” Noah murmurs. “That dude is driving fast.”
I step harder on the gas, then take the next turn so recklessly that Noah lets out a startled yelp.
“Sorry, honey!”
Thankfully, turning at the last minute like that seems to have bought us some time. I speed down the dirt road, skid into our driveway, and come to a sharp halt right in front of the garage.
“Let’s get you inside, Noah. Now.”
As I climb out of the car, I can hear the roar of the truck’s engine echoing further down the road.
Noah is frowning in confusion, letting his backpack dangle from one arm as I nudge him up the porch steps. He twists curiously, glancing past me as the growl of tires on gravel reaches my ears, but then I already have the front door unlocked. I push him lightly over the threshold.
“Stay inside,” I tell him firmly. “Go upstairs to your room. Shut the door. Don’t come out until I come and get you, okay?”
“But-“
“Do as I say, Noah. Please.”
He glances past me, but obeys a moment later, shrugging dramatically before scurrying up the stairs toward his room. I lock the door again, shove the keys in my back pocket, and then shut the door behind me as I brace my feet on the front porch and face the scene before me in the front yard. If Rowan wants to get inside, he’ll have to retrieve the keys from my dead body or break a window. Committing either one of those crimes on Whiterose territory will have some unfortunate consequences, which is something I really hope he remembers through the blaze of his fury.
Rowan’s truck tears through the grass as it comes to a jolting stop mere feet from my flowerbeds. He doesn’t even kill the engine before he flings open the door and stalks toward me.
He stops just before the porch steps, glaring up at me, though his height doesn’t allow me much of an advantage in my higher position.
“You tore up my yard-” I begin.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.