Page 34 of Run Away With Me

‘Well, I think you’re paranoid,’ she snapped back.

‘I’m paranoid because you don’t pay attention,’ I countered.

Brooke slumped down to sit on the grass in one heavy movement, then laid back, crossing her arms over her face. After a second, I got up from the picnic bench and sat down next to her, cross-legged.

The grass was softer than I had expected it to be. I plucked a single blade and ran it between my thumb and finger to smooth it out. Sometimes I was good at smoothing things out, like with my mom. I’d learned how to placate her over the years, and most of the time now I could avoid arguments altogether. But Brooke was different. She bit back, and I actually liked that about her. She wasn’t a pushover, and sometimes being snarky with her was fun … it almost felt like flirting. I had a feeling this argument was about something deeper, though. Something bigger. If we were going to stay together, we needed to trust each other.

I knew the obvious solution to the current problem – it was the same one I’d been sitting on since Brooke had picked me up.

‘I can –’

‘If you’re about to suggest that I drop you off somewhere, just stop now,’ she said, her voice muffled by her arms. ‘I’m not going to ditch you.’

An emotion I didn’t know how to name flared in my chest, and all of a sudden I wanted to scream.

‘You don’t trust me,’ I whined. I could tell I was whining, but I couldn’t stop myself.

‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mouse,’ she said, propping herself up on her elbows to look at me. ‘I don’t think youtrust yourself. Your instincts are good, but you never want to share them with me, and I don’t know why.’

‘Because …’ I sighed.

‘Because?’ she prompted. ‘People haven’t believed you in the past?’

That was a little too close to home.

‘Yeah.’

‘And so now you think it’s better not to say anything at all, rather than say what’s bothering you and have someone tell you you’re being stupid.’

Partly that, and partly wanting to protect her. Brooke saw me in a way no one had before, and that was scary and exhilarating, and I didn’t want to lose it.

‘All right,’ I grumbled. ‘When did you turn into a therapist?’

‘Not a therapist,’ she said easily. ‘But I have been told I’m a pretty good friend.’

That stopped me short. I didn’t really have friends that I could talk to about these kinds of things. Things that worried me.

‘I don’t have a therapist. Or many friends.’

That made her laugh. ‘I’m your friend, Mouse.’

‘Because you’re stuck with me and have no other choice?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, but I could tell she was joking. ‘Obviously.’

We fell into a comfortable silence for a while, watching the clouds float past. Before this week, I’d never have thought Brooke would want to be friends with me. I’d never have thought I’d be friends with her, too. That was … good.It wasreal. Not a wild fantasy about a girl I liked, but something messy and imperfect, and real, and that was so much better.

‘Go on, then,’ Brooke said after a few minutes. ‘Tell me about the van.’

‘There isn’t much to tell,’ I said, still smoothing out the blade of grass. ‘I saw it last night, and then I’ve seen it a few times in the rearview mirror since we’ve been driving.’

‘Is it just a generic black van?’ she asked, and I nodded. ‘So how do you know it’s the same one?’

I didn’t, not 100 percent, but I was certain Chris was trouble and I didn’t want to take a risk. The van was following us, which meant they had some way of keeping track of either us or the Mustang.

‘Because it is,’ I said. ‘If there was a tracker on the car, would you be able to find it?’

‘Good God, Mouse,’ Brooke groaned.