Page 3 of Loving Hard on the Highway (Love Along Route 14)

Gabbie

There was a good chance I was about to be murdered by a serial killer.

I mean, no way a guy that good-looking was going to offer to take a complete stranger across the country with him.

I leaned against the car door, creating a huge gulf between us, just in case I had to jump out if I got serial killer vibes.

At least he smelled nice. The soft sandalwood with a hint of light musk was dreamy. I remembered that scent from our dance the night before. For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“You have any music preference?” he asked.

I shook my head and kept my focus on the view outside my window.

He clicked through a few radio stations, which was weird. I thought he’d put on a playlist from his Lyrix app.

“ 99.6 coast to coast hits ,” chimed from the speaker.

“Let’s give this a try,” he said in an overly friendly voice.

I ignored him.

I was content to pay him no mind all the way to our first stop when I noticed he was staying on I-475.

“Take the Route 14 exit. It goes right to Cali,” I said flatly.

“What?” he scoffed. “Route 14 takes forever. We can hit I-20 in Atlanta.”

“I need to be in Saddleback, Tennessee, tonight, or my friends are going to send the cavalry out for me,” I snapped. “They have a room booked and everything. After that, I can figure out my next move, and you can go on without me.”

“Fine, I’ll drop you off in Saddleback if that’s what you want. But like I said, I’m going to Cali anyway.” He sighed. “Can you relax? You’re going to break the door if you hold on to the armrest any tighter.”

“It’s hard to relax when you might be a psycho serial killer,” I grumbled. “I feel like this is exactly how a slasher film begins. I have no idea who you are.”

“Well, I’m not a serial killer,” he said, looking me right in the eyes for a second before focusing back on the road. “I’m just a guy who works for a tech company in Silicon Valley.”

I peered suspiciously at him. “Last night, you said you were from Miami.”

“No, I said I was up from Miami.” Driving with one hand and waving the other with each word, he explained, “I was…on vacation. I had planned to ride my motorcycle, Reba, back to California, but some drunk had other plans.”

I frowned. “You named your bike Reba?”

“Yes. Which is a perfectly normal thing to do, by the way,” he continued.

“And if anything, I should be the one worried about picking you up. It’s a little odd that you have no cell phone, and you have rendezvous in random towns.

You won’t use your name or credit cards.

Are you running from the law or something? ”

He half laughed, but I sat frozen. In a way, that was exactly what I was doing. And I think my silence freaked him out.

“Oh, shit,” he gasped. “Are you running from the law?”

“I’m not a criminal, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m running from my asshole ex, who has been a cop on the force for almost 20 years.” I turned my gaze back to the road outside my window. As I expected, a slew of questions came.

“Hold up. If he’s been a cop for twenty years, he’s like forty. How old are you?”

“He’s thirty-eight and I’m twenty-four. Don’t judge. I was going through some things when we got together. I didn’t know he would be a toxic, narcissistic, controlling jerk.”

“No judgment from me,” he said. “It’s just that a girl as fine as you could have any guy. Why a cop? And an old cop at that? I hate cops.”

“Um, my dad was a cop, and an amazing one at that.” I rolled my eyes. He probably thought I had daddy issues, which I probably did. I’d heard it before.

“Sorry, my bad. I meant to say I hate bad cops.”

“Better,” I huffed, folding my arms and relaxing a little.

“Not judging, but I have to ask, why don’t you have a phone or a credit card? It’s a little odd to be making a cross-country trek with no means of communication or way to pay. I mean, you’d have to stop for gas, right?”

“I have a phone, or I had one, and a credit card, but…” I paused, feeling unsure if I wanted to get into this with someone I didn’t know. But it was better to get it out of the way.

“My ex, Rick, doesn’t know I’ve left. If he knew, he’d try to stop me.

He did the last time I tried to leave. It was a total shit show.

He was basically stalking me this past year.

I turned off my location on my phone, but he still always seemed to know where I was.

So, when I decided to try to leave again, I ditched my phone.

I can’t catch a flight because I have to use my name, and he’d find out.

And the same with using a credit card. I don’t want him to be able to track me down.

He’s done some really messed-up stuff and uses his badge. ”

“Oh, wow.” He seemed to take a moment to let it sink in. “So, when the car rental got messed up…”

“I felt completely defeated,” I sighed. “This was months of planning, and I just can’t turn back now.”

“You won’t have to.” His brow furrowed, like he was working through something he wasn’t sure he had the right to say. “We’ll take Route 14, stick to your plan, and get you home.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, turning back. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he said. “Not if you think I’d just walk away from this.”

I hesitated. “It’s not about walking away. I just… I’ve had guys say things they didn’t mean. I’ve believed them.”

He leaned closer, close enough that I could see the way the sun light hit his face, soft shadows under his eyes, a muscle tensing in his jaw.

“I’m not those guys, Gabbie,” he said. “If you need me to get you to California, I can do that. Let me help you.”

I blinked, my chest tightening as if something inside me had shifted just slightly and wasn’t quite ready to shift back.

His voice softened.

“I give you my word.”

I looked at him fully. He wasn’t trying to convince me with charm, nor with empty promises. He was just being honest, steady, and real.

I wanted to trust him, his words… I just wasn’t sure if I could.

“You have my word.”

I let his words sink in for a while and quietly listened to the low music and constant whizzing of traffic. Staring out the window, I tried to believe I was actually getting away.

As we were passing a semi, Sean signaled for the driver to honk the horn. The truck driver obliged, and I chuckled at the innocent childishness of it.

“Man, I love road trips,” he said after giving the truck driver a friendly wave.

I wasn’t sure what it would be like to make this trip with a total stranger. A drop-dead gorgeous stranger. Even so, I did not know this man. And I didn’t want to do it in complete silence.

“So do I,” I admitted, and he seemed relieved.

“They are some of my favorite memories from being a kid. Mom would pack my brother and me in the car, and we’d drive all over California, sometimes to Nevada and even Texas. My dad wasn’t always the greatest. So, when she’d need a break, we would hit the road.”

“My parents did the same, but not because they needed a break from each other. I think my dad sometimes just needed a break from the job. He saw and dealt with a lot. Our road trips were special.”

We spent the rest of the drive to Saddleback reminiscing about our favorite childhood trips and laughing at the travel mishaps along the way.

I breathed easier, feeling like this wouldn’t be so bad.