Page 10 of Worth the Ruin
And finally, a lightbulb goes off.
I narrow my eyes and ask, “What’s your name?”
“Wynn,” he answers easily and my eyes widen.
I fucking knew that I knew him! Wynn Landry. I want to smile, but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to do that again.Maybe never.Even so, something about seeing this man here makes something inside me relax a fraction. It’s like having a piece ofmy old life back again somehow, as strange as it sounds. It’s not like we were friends or anything, but still. He’s a part of home in a way.
“You were one hell of a running back, Wynn Landry,” I say a bit smugly. I cast him a sidelong look and my lips actually do tilt up slightly when he jerks in surprise.
“How…”
“I’m originally from Houma, and I graduated a few years ahead of you at LSU. Go Tigers,” I add with a wink. He grins at that, the wide smile splitting his face and making his brown eyes sparkle. He’s a handsome guy, that’s for sure.
“Christ, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard that,” he says with a laugh, running his hand over his short hair. He eyes me. “Not much of an accent being from Houma.” His own accent is still fairly thick and it makes a pang of homesickness go through me that I haven’t felt in decades.
“That is a long story,” I huff out. He doesn’t press for more, just nods, as if he knows I’ll tell him at some point, like he knows we’re going to be friends or something. Hell, maybe it could happen. If I’m stuck in hell, at least I’ll have a fellow Tiger there with me. We talk football for a bit, reliving the glory days of Saban and Miles.
“You were about to start playing for the Saints when the world went to shit, weren’t you?” I remembered the news of his trade being big excitement for everyone in Louisiana, a verysmall town hero coming homekind of vibe.
“Yep. I was actually there house hunting when…when everything happened,” he finishes quietly. I can tell by the flash of pain in his eyes that he lost people in those early days. I vaguely remember him being married, I think a cheerleader maybe? It was a really cute story…She must not have made it. I want to tell him that I understand, that I’m sorry, but before I can say anything in response, some signal I don’t see has all ofthe men returning to their cars and Traeger heading back our way.
Wynn leans in and says in a low voice, “It isn’t as a bad as you’re thinking, I promise. Everything will be alright.” I arch a brow at that, but Wynn just gives me a smile and nods to Traeger as he walks away. Traeger inclines his head in return and approaches the truck.
“Ready to go?” he asks, holding out a red bandana folded in the shape of a…
I straighten and narrow my eyes at him.
“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”
“Standard procedure I’m afraid. I like my secret hideout to remain secret.” I glare at his outstretched hand. I could argue, but since I’ll know where we’re going even without sight, I decide to let it go. Act like I’mbehavingand all that. I still don’t like it, but I can deal with it.
“Whatever,” I mutter. Traeger takes a step towards me and I inhale sharply as he leans close to tie the bandana into a knot at the back of my head, his big body practically surrounding mine. I drop my arms to my sides and clench my hands into fists while he works. It’s unnerving having him so close, in an almost intimate position. He tenses for a moment, but quickly finishes and steps away.
“There we go,” he says. I grit my teeth but let him guide me to the passenger seat by my elbow.
“Think I can manage from here, thanks,” I spit before the asshole tries to help me up into the cab, most likely with a grip on my ass. He chuckles lightly which only makes me grind my teeth harder. My jaw is already sore from it and I have to force myself to relax. I climb in and he closes my door. A few seconds later he slides into the driver’s side.
“Can we just get this show on the road already?”
“As you wish,” he says and I can hear the smile in his voice.That bastard better not be quoting my favorite movie,I think.Better just be a coincidence.
We drive, and drive…and just for a change of pace, we drive some more. I know for a fact that we’ve doubled back at least three times and seem to be taking as many detours as possible.Shit. Traeger isn’t messing around with the whole secret location thing. By the third hour, I have no hope of being able to backtrack or tell you how far we’ve actually traveled or even in which direction.
Traeger thankfully doesn’t try to make small talk, and instead just puts on music and quietly hums along. His taste in music is eclectic but actually mirrors my own, so at least I have that going for me. Just as Johnny Cash fades into Breaking Benjamin, a voice crackles through Traeger’s walkie.
“Sir, we have Bloodies ahead near checkpoint Echo Fourteen.”
“Take care of them,” he says, that cool authority in his voice. Echo Fourteen? I’m burning with questions about his checkpoint system, how they’re manned, how they’re kept so hidden, all of the security measures in place, but of course I don’t let a single one of them past my lips. Not like he would actually answer any of them anyway.
“Of course sir. I’ll let you know once it’s clear.”
Traeger slows, puts the truck in park, and then, we wait. After a few minutes of silence, he says quietly, “I’m sorry.”
“Save it,” I spit, and he exhales roughly.
“You’ll come to understand.”
I huff out a humorless laugh. “Fat fucking chance, couyon.”
