Page 42 of Worth the Heat
I swivel around to look at Trace, ten yards behind us. “You can lose him?”
“Oh, easily,” she laughs. “You don’t get carsick, do you?”
“Uh, no? Wow!” I shout as Ava hits the gas and we take off. Trace is momentarily shocked, and it takes a moment for his big truck to pop into gear before he tears after us. Ava whips into a neighborhood, tires squealing as she shouts with glee.
I grab the door handle and the seatbelt, close my eyes, and pray for survival.
“Dang! I thought he was a goner that time,” Ava says. I peek my left eye open to see her frowning at her rearview mirror, while we’re still traveling top speed down a residential street.
“Ava, focus,” I finally hiss.
“Oh. Sorry. Let me think. What road should I take? Oh, I got it!” Tires squealing again as we whip back onto the main road. I hear her put her window down.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh. Listening.”
“For what?”
“Isabella, be quiet!”
I sit silently, eyes tightly closed, until Ava says, “Yes! There we go!”
“What?”
“I heard a train. Sounds like it’s coming across the Aspen View Trail crossing, which means it’ll be to the Oakwood Lane crossing in about two minutes. And if I time it perfectly --”
“We can lose him because of the crossing signals,” I finish. “That might work. Unless he barrels through anyway. Can he fit between the crossing poles?”
“Doubtful. Plus that crossing is only two lanes, whereas the other crossings are four. More space to work with.” More tires squeal as we turn onto Oakwood Lane. She speeds up as we approach, and I hear a train horn signaling its approach.
“There are the lights,” I tell her, turning around to see Trace a football field length behind us. “We should be good.”
“Better safe than sorry. Hold on!” Ava shouts as she pushes the gas pedal again, crossing the tracks right as the poles come down. We both scream as the car goes completely airborne, slamming down on the other side with a rattle. “Shit. Hope that didn’t hurt Darla too much.”
“Darla?”
She smiles sweetly, like we didn’t just break multiple city and county laws. “My car. Her name is Darla. She’s perfect.”
“Okay,” I murmur, suddenly a little wary of Ava.
“So you wanna give me directions to Sebastian’s place? I just know he lives outside of town,” Ava says.
“No. I think I’m going to stay at my apartment tonight. I’m not ready to confront Sebastian. A night away will help clear my mind. I should probably move back anyway. No reason to still be at his house if my apartment is good as new.”
“I thought you were there because of the scary guys your ex-boyfriend was associated with,” Ava says with a worried look. “You should keep staying with him, Isabella. That’s more important than some stupid fight about a bakery order.”
I don’t answer her. It’s dumb. I know it is. But I feel like every man I’ve ever cared for has lied to me about one thing or another. Yes, a bakery order seems trivial. But it always starts small like this. Then he’ll lie about who he met for lunch, or what that text message is about that he just deleted. Then he’ll come home late from something. And suddenly, I’ll find him in bed with another woman.
Even angrier now, I look down as my phone rings. Sebastian. I decline the call, and it immediately rings again. Fucking Trace, the damn tattletale. Five texts come through simultaneously, letting me know Sebastian is furious. Great.
I decide to power down my phone. Juvenile? Yeah, a little. ButI need a break from all these men deciding my life for me. Lord knows as soon as my brothers hear about this, they’ll be full of opinions as well.
Sighing, I resign myself to the fact that I’m probably never going to fully trust another man, and will end up a spinster with eighty-seven cats.
My apartment looks different.
It doesn’t look like me anymore, and I don’t know how to process that.
