Page 24 of The Way Back Home
CHAPTER TWELVE
TEAGAN
Teagan’s stomach tightened as Noah took the exit ramp toward bright lights. The truck stop was like an oasis in the middle of a black desert, bustling and welcoming. Flashy signs advertised gas, food, bathrooms, and even a budget motel offering soft beds and hot showers for road-weary travelers. Teagan had used similar places over the years. They were cheap, quick, accepted cash, and didn’t ask a lot of questions.
The place was surprisingly busy, given the late hour. Big rigs dominated the parking lot, but the car area held its share of vehicles as well.
“Must be a good place if this many truckers stop here,” Noah commented as he scanned the packed lot.
“Or the only place for a hundred miles,” Teagan muttered.
She scanned the periphery as they made their wayto the chrome-and-neon diner. Beyond the halogen lot lights, dark, leafless trees reached toward a moonless sky, sentinels in a landscape worthy of the winter solstice. Slipping away would be easy.
Her stomach cramped again.
In a gentlemanly move, Noah held the door open for a couple exiting the diner, returned their cheerful, “Happy holidays,” then swept his hand in front of him. “Ladies first.”
Teagan snorted. She was no lady. But it was nice that he was treating her like one.
Scanning the interior, Teagan cataloged the space. The eatery was dated but clean, with chrome-edged, laminated-top booths and bench seats in red vinyl. Green plastic garland and twinkle lights gave the space a holiday vibe, as did the classic Christmas carols playing over the speakers.
Her gaze swept the patrons next. Truckers, with their flannel shirts, down vests, and caps. Bleary-eyed drivers with shadowed jaws and messyI’ve been in the car for hourshair. College students with tired but happy faces, wearing oversized hoodies sporting state university logos.
Nothing that set off her internal alarms.
Noah’s fingers touched her arm, guiding her toward the booth the server had indicated. It was a light touch, one meant to subtly suggest direction, yet it zapped through her just the same.
The contact ended as soon as they reached the table, its absence more noticeable than the touch itself.Teagan gave herself a mental shake. Clearly, she was worse off than she’d thought if she was waxing poetic about such an innocuous touch.
“How are you folks this evening?” the woman asked as she reset the table with fresh placemats and silverware.
“Good, thanks,” Noah replied.
“Coffee?”
“Please.”
The server handed them each a menu, ran down the specials, and then left to grab a fresh carafe.
Teagan spared a cursory glance, then set the laminated sheet face down.
“You’re not hungry?” Noah asked.
“No.”
He frowned. “How can that be? You barely ate anything for dinner.”
“I ate,” she countered. Granted, not a lot, but as much as she could. Pain and anxiety were effective appetite suppressants.
“How’s your pain level?”
“Manageable.”
His frown deepened, as if he could sense the lie.
“I can give you something stronger.”
The over-the-counter meds were barely scratching the surface, but she dared not take anything stronger. She needed to stay awake and alert.
