Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I push that thought aside. One crisis at a time. Right now, we need to regroup, find a better hiding spot, and keep me alive. Everything else—my growing feelings for the man who’s supposed to keep me safe—will have to wait.
Chapter 19
Boone
I’m sitting in a booth at a little roadside diner, watching Aubree pick at the corner of her napkin, and the tension coiled in my chest hasn’t loosened an inch since I woke up this morning. My back is to the wall, so I can keep an eye on the entrance and the windows. It’s a habit I picked up in the military and never really lost. I’ve got a direct line of sight on the door and on everyone else in this place.
The diner is one of those small, unassuming joints with red vinyl booths, a checkered floor, and a faint smell of bacon grease that seems permanent. The waitress who seated us gave me a look like she expected me to cause trouble—I guess my scowl isn’t exactly subtle. But with everything that’s happened, I can’t afford to relax.
Aubree notices me tense up and offers a small smile. “You okay?” she asks, her voice barely audible over the low hum of conversation around us.
“Yeah,” I mutter, scanning the patrons again. The lunch counter is occupied by two older men eating pancakes, and a couple in their twenties hovers over a shared plate of waffles. Nothing looks threatening, but I’m on edge anyway.
She wets her lips, then glances at the menu again. We’ve already ordered, but I see her hand tremble slightly as she tries to act like she’s just browsing. Guilt knots in my gut. She shouldn’t have to live like this—scared, on the run, trusting a guy she barely knows to keep her safe.
A moment later, one of the men at the counter stands, dropping some bills onto the table. As he leaves, he passes our booth and flicks a glance in Aubree’s direction—probably just giving her a once-over because she’s pretty, but it’s enough to send my adrenaline spiking. I shoot out a hand, nearly grabbing the guy by his collar.
“Hey!” His startled yelp makes the entire diner pause.
The man stumbles back, eyes wide. He’s wearing a ratty jacket and jeans, and something about him reminds me of an old farmer just looking for a hearty meal. Definitely not a threat. But for a split second, the fear and tension in my body override logic. I’m halfway out of my seat, my fingers curled, ready to slam him against the wall if needed.
“Boone,” Aubree whispers sharply, her hand on my forearm. Her touch is gentle, but the urgency in her voice snaps me out of it.
“Sorry,” I grunt, sitting back down with my heart still pounding like a jackhammer. The man mutters something under his breath and hurries out the door, the bell above it jingling in his wake. A hush lingers before the other diners go back to their meals, though they shoot me the occasional wary glance.
Aubree stares at me, eyes a little wide. “He was just…looking. Like, curious. It’s not like he attacked me.”
I drag a hand down my face. “I know,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “I’m on edge. Sorry.”
Her lips part, and I can see her searching for the right thing to say. She ends up just nodding, her expression a mix of worry and understanding. The tension between us is thick—equal parts fear, adrenaline, and something else I can’t quite name. Maybe it’s the memory of the two of us in that hotel room last night, or the cabin before that, how close we came to crossing a line. But I try to shut that thought out. Right now, I need to keep my focus on keeping her alive.
The waitress arrives at our table with two plates. She sets a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me, and a stack of pancakes in front of Aubree. “Here you go, hon,” she says, clearly directing her kindness at Aubree instead of me. Then she flicks her gaze my way, eyes narrowing. “Anything else I can get for you two?”
Aubree offers a tight smile. “We’re good, thanks.”
I dig into my eggs, though they taste like nothing. My appetite’s shot, but I force the food down because I don’t know when we’ll get another decent meal. I’m about to check my phone for messages when I remember I turned off Aubree’s phone earlier. My phone’s still on, vibrating occasionally with texts from Dean, but hers is a dead brick in my jacket pocket—just another precaution. If the person threatening her somehow tracked her phone’s signal, that’s a risk I won’t take.
She only manages a couple bites of pancake before pushing the plate away. “I’m sorry,” she says, fingers fidgeting with the napkin. “I just… I’m not hungry.”