Page 22 of The Way Back Home
She’d lain in bed, staring at the ceiling, second-guessing herself. Why couldn’t she take Noah up on his offer to stay in the cabin for a few more nights? He wasn’t going to be around. Mona would be busy with her family and probably wouldn’t even know she was there. Hot water, heat, a soft bed, food, plus a chance to rest and recover? She’d be a fool not to.
Yet here she was, on her way out the door.
She’d made up her mind to put an end to the madness. A few days wasn’t going to make much of a difference in her healing. Even mild sprains took a week or more to heal. Dislocations could take weeks, and with the damage she’d sustained, probably months.
Even if she stayed for a week, she’d still be traveling injured.
Putting it off was only going to weaken her resolve. Her self-preservation instinct would rationalize that a life on the run was still a life, as opposed to what was probably going to happen when she went back home.
Padding softly to the bathroom, she closed the door, stuffed a towel along the bottom of the door to block sound and light, and donned her all-black ensemble. Sore and tender as she was and with her limited range of motion, it was a challenge, but Teagan was no stranger to functioning with injuries.
She paused when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. A pale face painted with resignation stared back at her, devoid of innocence, hope, or anticipation. She knew what was coming.
Closing her eyes, she steeled her resolve and locked away anything that might get in the way. Pain. Fear. Hurt. Cold. Hunger. It was a necessary skill for survival, and hers had been honed to near perfection.
Inch by inch, she coaxed the small window open. The snap of brisk, cold air was a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of the cabin and a timely reminder that the momentary comfort of the last twenty-four hours was over.
Next, she popped out the screen with practiced ease. The opening wasn’t big, but luckily, neither was she. She was petite, like her mom, and her transient, spartan lifestyle kept her on the slim side.
She held her pack over the sill and dropped it,hearing the muted thud on the other side in the silence of the still night.
Teagan lifted a knee up and eased herself onto the vanity, then extended one foot to the sill and took a deep breath.
Under normal circumstances, slipping through a small bathroom window would be child’s play. She’d been doing it since she was old enough to recognize the warning signs of one of her stepfather’s impending tirades. Limited use of one shoulder, bruised ribs, and a wonky ankle complicated things, and her landing was less than graceful. She swallowed the grunt of pain and took a moment to catch her breath through the knife-like stabs shooting up her leg.
“It’s about time,” said a familiar masculine voice. “I was starting to wonder if you’d changed your mind.”
Teagan spun around, forgetting about her ankle and doubling the pain. “Noah!”
One arm slipped behind her back, another beneath her knees. He lifted her as if she weighed no more than her backpack and carried her to where his big black pickup truck was waiting. He opened the door and gently placed her inside, where the cab was already pleasantly warm.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Win-win,” he said with the smug arrogance of a man who had solved a difficult problem. “You’ve got to leave town, and I have to head out to visit my family for the holidays. We can keep each other company while putting a couple of states between you and Sheriff Jackson.”
Teagan gaped at him, annoyed and a little impressed.
“Stay here while I go in and secure the window you left open,” he said. “Try not to put weight on that ankle. I’ll be right back.”
Noah stepped away before she could respond, strode confidently to his door, and disappeared inside. She briefly considered making a run for it, but she wouldn’t get far. Thanks to her poorly executed landing, her ankle was throbbing again. Plus, she had no doubt that Noah would only come after her. The man seemed determined to look after her. The question was, why?
She sighed, her innate combativeness fading. She hated to admit it, but Noah was right. His truck would get her farther than she could limp, and she didn’t have to worry about her safety if she was riding with him. Besides, he’d have to stop for gas at some point. If things weren’t working to her advantage, she could reevaluate her escape plan and adjust then.
Assuming she stayed strong, that was. Noah Ziegler had a way of weakening her defenses.
Noah reappeared a few minutes later, whistling softly and tossing her an ice pack for her ankle. As if he hadn’t just caught her trying to leave him in the middle of the night. As if he had counted on her doingexactlythat, in fact.
“I thought you weren’t going to stand in my way,” she reminded him.
“I’m not. I’m helping. Here.” He handed her a sweatshirt.
“What’s this for?”
“To put between your ribs and the seat belt. Need help buckling up?”
“No, I got it. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
