Page 95 of Darlin'

"Let. Me. Go."

"Just let her go," I hear Beau say. "She just needs some time."

Not time.

I need space. A galaxy worth.

Running on survival energy, I jerk away from him despite my desire to stay a little while longer. He doesn't touch me again.

"Thank you," I whisper and walk out of the compound, dialing a number I didn't think would ever again be an emergency contact. She picks up immediately. "Momma? Can you buy me a flight?" I stupidly look over my shoulder and bite my tongue to prevent myself from crying. "Today, please."

"What? Really?" Her excitement sickens me. "You want to come home?"

"Sure," I say lethargically. "Home."

CHAPTER 29

Runaway

"What do you think?"Momma asks, removing a two-inch hot curler from my hair as I stare lifelessly at my reflection in the vanity mirror. "Too big? Should we go for a tighter curl? If you're going to go with the first routine, perhaps a tighter curl will keep better." She pauses, waiting for my reply. "Savannah? Well?"

"What?" I mumble as my phone vibrates for the umpteenth time.

It's Beau again. I told him to stop calling me. I told themallto stop calling me. Jesse's the only one who truly listened. He never listens. He's notorious fornotlistening. Always does whatever he damn well pleases. Except for this time. The one time I wish he'd ignore my wishes. But it's just as well; at least I don't jump every time my phone buzzes anymore.

Maybe I shouldn't have left without saying a proper goodbye to everyone, but I had to leave. Disappear. Remove myself from the situation. I understand why Beau ran away all those years ago. I get it now. Stayingwould've been too difficult. Staying meant talking, staying meant processing, staying meant reliving all the lies again and again. Their lies. And my own. Leaving is always easier. Less effort. Less headache. Less heartache. A clean break. That's what I needed, I'm sure of it.

"Earth to Savannah!" Momma waves her hand in front of my face and sighs. "Listen, I know you're upset about whatever happened in California, but we've only got two days left before Miss USA, and I need you to be present." She smiles at me through the mirror. "Okay?"

"Sure," I mutter, sinking into the lounge chair as she continues to fiddle with my hair. "Whatever you say, Momma."

"Excellent." She claps her hands, delighted. "We've got a lot of catching up to do if we're gonna beat Marla Mayweather and her coach-stealing-worm of a mother. She probably thinks they've got that crown on the tips of their thieving little fingers, but they're in for a rude awakening?—"

Momma drones on about her disdain for Mrs. Mayweather as I nod every few minutes and pretend to listen. It comes as no surprise that my mother never withdrew me as a contestant from the pageant. She said she had a feeling I'd come home just in the nick of time. Motherly intuition, she called it. I can't even be mad. She was right. Maybe she knows me better than I know myself.

"And I was thinking for dinner we could have Lucy whip up a nice big salad." Momma's scrutinizing gaze scans my face. "Somethinglight,so we're in tip-top shape for the bikini competition. Sound good to you?"

"I want burgers," I say, ignoring her judgmental stare. "Double patty."

Momma balks. "Burgers...? But?—"

Sighing, I crane my neck up at my mother. "Listen, I'm doing the stupid pageant. You win, okay? The least you could do is let me eat whatever the hell I want."

Momma's jaw drops. "Do not talk to me like?—"

"Like what?" I ask, crossing my arms. "Like I have a mind of my own?Taste budsof my own? You know, Momma, I've been meaning to tell you this for a while now, but almond milk isnotthe same as normal milk. The consistency is different, the flavor is different, and quite frankly, I think it's idiotic to drink juice from a nut! That's why we have cows!"

Momma blinks rapidly at my outburst. "Savannah, I?—"

"And another thing," I continue my rant, "I think it's completely inappropriate for you to buy me dresses in a size I don't even fit." I point to the baby pink floor-length satin gown that she purchased for the finale. "It's not motivating, it's not healthy, and I don't like it." My eyes harden. "Clothes are supposed to fit your body, Momma, not the other way around."

"I'm..." She swallows, clearing her throat. "I didn't mean to?—"

"But you did," I say, voice dropping to a low level as I banish thoughts of Jesse from my mind. "Most people don't mean to hurt you, or lie to you, or fill in the blank, but they do. So..." I shrug. "Just try and be more intentional with what youdomean, and you might not have to apologize so much for what you don't."

"I'll um..." She glances at the dress, biting her lip. "I'll go back to the store tomorrow."

It's not an apology, but it's a start. Baby steps, I guess. I give my momma a small smile. "Thank you, I would appreciate that."

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