Something Like Redemption (Something Like Normal #2) by Monica James

Author:Monica James [James, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00NLXQ5AM
Publisher: Limitless Publishing, LLC
Published: 2014-10-13T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Passengers

We drive through Louisiana, taking remote backroads used only by the locals, and hopefully not patrolled by the police. Thankfully the lonesome dirt roads link back up to the highways, so we know which direction we are traveling in.

We drive nonstop, only stopping for gas and the occasional bathroom break, but Quinn is right, we need to give ourselves a big head start now that the police are onto our location.

Quinn has driven all of the way, but after nearly running us off the road because he fell asleep at the wheel, I demanded he pull over. He’s driven for way too many hours without a break. He insisted he was fine, but when I told him this wasn’t negotiable, he agreed and was out like a light.

So now it’s just me and the open road, as Lucky has also crashed, snuggled into Quinn, who is using the window as a pillow. He’s going to be sore when he wakes, but I don’t have the heart to wake him up.

I’m not sure of the exact time, but judging by the coyotes and raccoons, and whatever other wildlife wants to jump out in front of me, scaring the bejesus outta me, I’d say its well after midnight.

We’re headed for Arkansas, and I’m aching for a bed and shower, and to eat something that isn’t defrosted in the microwave. But I’d never tell Quinn, as he feels bad enough.

Even though we almost got caught, I’m not freaking out or on edge, and that’s because I’m with Quinn. My feelings are growing every single minute of every single day, and that’s what’s getting me through this. If I was doing this on my own, or with someone other than him, I doubt I would be this composed or sane. But with Quinn, I feel like I can pull through anything.

Lost in Quinn thoughts, I fail to hear a small whimper until it becomes a steady, panicked moan. I look over, in belief that it’s Lucky having a doggy nightmare. But the distraught whimpers are coming from Quinn, and becoming increasingly worse.

I try and reach out to comfort him, but he’s too far away, and even with one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching for him, I can’t touch him.

My eyes dart between the road and Quinn, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, especially when his whimpers turn into spoken, hushed words.

“Mom… I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Quinn cries, whipping his head from side to side. “I’m sorry I made you choose. I didn’t know… and it’s too late.”

What’s too late? Oh God, I feel I should wake Quinn, as his face is contorting in pain, but I also feel as if I’m intruding on a private memory, one Quinn wishes to keep to himself.

“Don’t tell Tristan, please don’t tell him. If he ever found out, he’d never forgive me.” A sob tears out of his throat, jerking me with its intensity.

I can’t stand to hear him in such pain, so I quickly pull over at a rest stop and am by Quinn’s side in seconds.

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