Page 28 of Fated Love with You
I was foolishly planning a life of adventure with Nate, and he was supposed to meet me, but his flight was delayed.
When the knock came on my door a little past midnight, hours before my performance, it wasn’t him. Instead, there were customs agents and four Canadian police officers with handcuffs.
There was no use in denying what I’d done; I was guilty as all hell.
The second chair violinist played my solo that afternoon.
A dignitary said a few kind words on my behalf while I languished in custody, and the justice sealed my record as soon as I went home.
The government labeled me “persona non grata,” and deemed me unwelcome to ever return.
The highway continues to lead me down memory lane until I return to the neighborhood that holds my Airbnb. I circle the familiar streets several times to see if Ryder’s men will appear, but I’m still alone.
Parking, I rush inside and immediately undress before stepping into the shower.
I turn the water to the hottest setting, letting the streams punish me for what feels like forever.
When I’ve served my sentence, I step out and notice my phone buzzing against the vanity with a call from an unknown number.
“Look,” I say, “I was serious about not wanting to?—”
“I only have two minutes.” It’s Kylie. “I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t let you have this stuff, but I couldn’t bear to drop it off at your address because?—”
“I am so sorry.” I can’t help but interrupt. “I should’ve heard you out and done what you asked.”
“I left it at the closest Walmart instead.” She doesn’t accept my apology. “It’s in the pet food aisle, under the brand of bags that we used to buy for my Aunt Sarah. Do you remember the name of it?”
“Yes.”
“Good, go get it now.” Her voice is firm. “Oh, and Autumn?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep a bag packed in your car for whenever you come to your senses and leave him.”
She hangs up without another word, and I dress quickly.
Heeding her warning, I stuff a few outfits into a duffle bag and step outside to head to Walmart.
Shit…
Two cars that weren’t there before are sitting at the back of the lot. Their lights aren’t on, but their engines are softly humming.
Nothing has changed.
Ignoring them, I toss my bag into the trunk and speed away.
Several minutes later,I slide my hand under a bag of Paw Paw’s Puppy Chow.
Feeling the edges of a thickly bound binder, I place my bag on the shelf and subtly slide it inside.
Then, I push an empty cart toward the wine aisle. I need to buy enough to keep my mind buzzed for at least a week.
I grab four of their strongest reds and two premixed sangria blends. As I’m placing a box of cheap Merlot into the cart, another unknown number calls.
“I just picked it up, Kylie,” I say. “I’ll be sure to?—”
“Hello, Autumn.” Ryder’s voice ends my sentence, and I suck in a breath.
