Page 62 of Chasing Wildflowers
I slide across the seat, wary, the soft leather squeaking beneath me. My muscles coil tight, nerves humming under my skin.
He turns toward me, extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Lane,” he says, giving me a grin, dimples popping out on both sides of his full mouth.
His hair is a tousled mess of light brown. Thick brows, a few shades darker, shadow his hazel eyes. A sharp jawline, covered in stubble, gives him a hard look. I can’t see much of his build, but judging by his broad shoulders, he’s almost as big as Jameson.
Jameson slides behind the wheel, slamming the door a little harder than necessarily. The sound echoing through the cab like a gunshot. “Don’t fucking smile at her like that dickhead,” he grumbles, turning the key, the engine roaring to life.
Miles releases my hand and smirks at Jameson as he pulls onto the road. “I was just saying hi, don’t be such a caveman.”
My eyes dart around the truck, bouncing between everyone, as panic quickly overtakes my body. “Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” I demand, voice trembling. “I’m putting a lot of trust in everyone right now, and I don’t even know who’s after me. Did his family hire you? Was it the police?”
“No, it’s not his family or the police. We don’t know who it is,” Jameson answers, meeting my eyes in the rear-view mirror momentarily, before focusing back on the road. “I know you have questions, and I will answer them. I promise. Just let me get you somewhere safe first.”
Too bad I no longer believe his promises.
“Why are you helping me? Why not just turn me over?” I ask, letting the questions hang in the air.
Not that his answer matters. I can’t forgive him for this.
His eyes meet mine again, steady and certain. “Because I love you, Wildflower.” His voice is low and steady, carrying a weight that makes me want to believe him. Makes me want to trust him.
I tear my eyes away, jaw tight. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
The ache in my chest builds, slow and steady, as I stare out the window, watching the town I love blur past in streaks of neon and streetlight. The rest of the car ride passes in silence, the hum of the engine drowning out the sound of my heart breaking.
Half an hour later, Jameson pulls beside a small jet and kills the engine. The airfield is quiet except the low rumble of the jet's turbines. Bright lights line the short runway, cutting through the night sky.
Jameson twists in his seat, the leather creaking behind his weight, too loud in the heavy silence. “You two go ahead and board. We are going to grab our bags and will be right behind you.”
I hesitate, hand hovering over the door handle. What if this is all a set up? My gut screams at me to be cautious, but what choice do I have but to trust Jameson?
Reluctantly, I step out, the cool night air ruffling my hair. Kam follows close behind, her body pressed to mine as we walk across the tarmac to the jet. I still don’t know if I should be putting my life fully in his hands.
Each step feels heavier as my legs carry me up the short set of stairs. The cabin is compact, but comfortable,with soft lighting that gives everything a warm glow. Cream leather seats line the aisle; eight of them, arranged in pairs that face each other, divided by a narrow strip of dark carpet.
Kam and I take our seats, sitting side by side, her hand latching onto mine, holding it tight. “We will get through this.” Her eyes hold mine, full of confidence I don’t feel.
I give her a small smile and nod.
Moments later, boots thud against the metal stairs. My hand tightens on the armrest as Jameson and Miles duck into the cabin. Jameson’s eyes lock with mine, and my heart squeezes, just once, at the pain I see there.
I look away, staring out the window instead. His steady footsteps echo through the small cabin, growing closer. He drops into the seat across from me, the soft leather creaking under him.
“Lane.” His voice is soft, cautious.
A tear runs down my face, but I don’t meet his gaze.
“Give her some god damn space. She will talk to you when she’s ready,” Kam spits, voice fierce.
I hear the sigh of leather as he stands, then footsteps as he moves to a seat across the aisle.
“Just give her some time.” Miles whispers.
I’m well aware that I can’t ignore him forever. Him and I definitely need to have a conversation, but I’m not ready. It’s all too fresh, too painful. The life I’ve worked so hard to build is in danger because of him.
My eyes slowly peel open, squinting against the bright morning sun. “Where are we?” I murmur, voice raw with sleep. How the hell did I end up in a car? Did I fall asleep on the jet?
I rub my eyes and peer out the window. A blue, two-story farmhouse with a wide white wraparound porch comes into view. The rising sun casts everything in a warm, golden-orange glow. To the right, a brown barn stands, its weathered wood scarred by time yet clearly still in use. Trees encircle the property, giving it a sense of seclusion and privacy.
