After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

After She's Gone (West Coast #3) Page 87

“Already took back the rental and took a cab back. I’m good to go.”

“What? Why? Did you think you were staying here? With me?” She looked at him as if he were stark, raving mad.

“I came for you, Cass. I told you that.”

They stared at each other. He could almost see her calculating, trying to figure out how to ditch him again. But then she just made a sound of exasperation and said, “Come on, then. Let’s get out of here.”

With that she finished packing quickly and together they hauled the things she wanted to take with her to Oregon to her car. She locked the door of the apartment as he folded himself into the passenger seat and within ten minutes they were on the freeway, heading north.

Neither said a word.

Cassie wondered why she had ever agreed to let Trent ride with her to Oregon. It had been a mistake; she hadn’t been thinking, she’d just reacted. So here she was, hands gripped on the steering wheel as if she thought the car was going to run away from her, nerves strung tight as bowstrings, heading ever northward on the Five. They were out of Los Angeles, traffic on the freeway moving along at a good clip. The engine was purring, the wheels humming on the pavement, the scenery of Southern California flying by the windows, and Trent was way too close to her for comfort, his shoulder nearly touching hers, the familiar smell of him teasing her.

Big mistake.

“So, the way I figure it,” he said, “we’ve got fifteen hours or so to sort things out.” He slid a glance her way and her heart did a hard little flip. God, she was a moron where he was concerned. “Unless of course you’re a lead-foot. Then the trip will be shorter. We’ll have to work faster.”

“You mean about what happened to Holly and Allie.”

“You know what I mean.” He focused on the windshield again.

Her chest tightened. She wasn’t ready for this. He was too near and there was nowhere she could run or get away from him. “I don’t think I want to talk about us on a road trip.”

“No better time,” he said. “No distractions. No way to run away from each other. Just you and me and the miles rolling by.”

“Sounds like lyrics for a bad country song.”

He smiled faintly. “Isn’t that what we’ve been living?”

She winced. He was right. But the thought of hashing out all of their history right here in the warm car scared her a little. Too many emotions were involved, too much drama. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Got a better one?”

“Another time.”

“Nope.” He was firm. “I’m tired of living in limbo. Married, but not married. Having a wife who avoids me at all costs. Thinking I’ll be served with divorce papers at any inconvenient minute. It’s time to resolve this,” he said, turning to stare straight at her. “Either we stay married and try like hell to work things out, go to counseling, the whole nine yards, or we throw in the towel now. But we make a damned decision. Together.”

“Don’t you think it would be better if I wasn’t driving?”

“It’ll never happen.”

He had her there. No way would she have ever agreed to meet with him to talk things out over dinner or coffee or drinks. Nor would she text, e-mail, or take his phone calls. But still . . . this could get messy, they would surely argue. She might even break down. She thought of the long hours in the car ahead. She was tense already, her shoulders tight, her stomach in knots. “No.”

“Cass—”

“Listen. I’m not ready.” She shot him a look. “Let’s get to Oregon first.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Hell, yes, I’m stalling. I said, ‘Not now!’ ” She let out a sigh, realized she was being unreasonable, but she didn’t care.

“You can do this. You’re a lot tougher than you know.”

She flexed her hands on the wheel. No, she wasn’t.

“So listen, I’m going to tell you about what happened with Allie, and you’re not going to run us off the road or try to kill me or anything. You’re just going to keep driving and more importantly, keep calm.”