Page 50 of You've Got The Love
I let out a shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“See?” Bas murmurs, his hand brushing my back as he steers me toward the door. “Just a car.”
I nod, but my chest still feels tight, like the air doesn’t want to go all the way in.
The van smells faintly of him when we climb back inside, sandalwood and soap and something that makes my stomach flip. I clutch a cold Diet Coke as he starts the engine, the bag of supplies at my feet, and watch the forest swallow the station in seconds.
It’s brighter out here than it should be, the daylight turning the trees into a blur of green and grey. But it doesn’t make me feel safe. Not really.
Bas pulls out onto the road, and we continue our journey to a soundtrack of rustling packets and my moans. That grabs Bas’ attention, making him stare at me like he wants to eat me alive. Lucky me.
Then I see them.
Two men in black leather cuts, standing outside a small market. Even through the rain-streaked glass, I recognise the patches. My blood turns to ice.
“Bas.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“I see them.” His tone is flat, deadly calm.
We keep rolling past, slow and steady. The men don’t move, don’t raise a hand, but I swear I feel their eyes tracking us like laser sights. My heart thunders against my ribs.
“They didn’t follow,” I whisper, looking in my wing mirror.
“Not yet,” he says. “But they know we’re here now.”
We drive in tense silence for miles, the rain swallowing the sound of the engine. I try to keep my breathing steady, but my hands are shaking in my lap.
Finally, Bas pulls onto a side road that winds through a thicker patch of forest. He kills the headlights for a moment, coasting. My heart’s in my throat.
“Are we… hiding?” I ask.
“For now,” he says, scanning the mirrors. “They could’ve called it in. We need to put some distance between us before we get back on the main road.”
I watch his profile in the dim grey light—sharp jaw, soft stubble, the stubborn crease in his brow—and he looks different now. Not just the man I’ve loved quietly for years, not just the devoted father who makes the world feel safe. He looks like someone trying to hold everything together, even when none of this is his burden to carry.
“Bas?” My voice wavers.
He glances at me, softening just enough to make my chest ache. “Yeah,liefje?”
“If we make it through this…” I pause, fighting the lump in my throat. “Do you think we… could be something? Like… really be something?”
He’s quiet for a long time, his hands steady on the wheel even as my heart feels like it’s swinging on a thread.
Finally, he says, “If we make it through this… I don’t think I could let you go. Even if I should.”
It’s not a promise. But it’s enough to make me feel like I can breathe again.
The road stretches ahead, empty and wet, and for now, that’s all that matters.
Chapter 29
Bastiaan
Rain drizzles, mist curling over the slick roads as I grip the steering wheel tighter than feels humanly possible. The van’s tyres hum against the wet asphalt, but my eyes are scanning every mirror, every shadow, every bend in the road.
Amber is silent beside me, but her tension fills the van like a living thing. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the dashboard. I want to tell her it’s going to be okay, to promise her she’s safe with me—but I don’t lie. Not to her.
Then, out of the corner of my eye—headlights. Two motorcycles. Black cuts gleaming in the grey daylight, engines snarling like predators.
