Accountable

I’m halfway through strapping my saddlebags to the motorcycle when I realize I don’t really have anything left to pack.

That’s a strange feeling.

Not broke.

Not lost.

Not hunted.

Just—

Done.

Thirty-nine hours have passed since John started the clock.

Rachel spends most of them upstairs in Kristy Lee’s apartment, sleeping like the dead.

Advent goes home an hour ago after making me promise—through several threatening signs and one universally understood gesture—not to leave Rachel alone again.

Kristy Lee is—

Honestly?

At this moment, I have no idea where Kristy Lee is.

That bothers me more than a woman from another dimension sleeping twenty feet above my head.

I tighten the final strap.

My broken pinky complains.

Everything else stays quiet.

Sometimes finishing the motion is all a man’s got.

Headlights sweep across the parking lot.

A blue Prius comes sliding in too fast, tires chirping as it parks crooked across two spaces.

The driver’s door flies open.

Kristy Lee climbs out looking like she hasn’t slept in a year and has decided that’s everybody else’s problem now.

Mascara half gone.

Hair a disaster.

Still the prettiest thing I’ve seen all week.

She spots me.

Points.

“You know who took my spot?”

I blink.

“What?”

“My timeslot.”

She slams the door.

“At work.”

I stay quiet.

Seems safest.

“They didn’t just fire me. They gave my timeslot to that loudmouth from sales.”

She starts marching toward me.

“They’re calling her Downtown Dana now.”

Kristy Lee stops three feet away with her hands on her hips.

“Should be Loudmouth Bitch Better Get Her Crusty Lips Off My Microphone Dana.”

I try not to smile.

Fail.

“Tell me how you really feel.”

She steps closer.

Eyes wet.

Voice sharp.

“How do I really feel?”

A beat.

“I really feel like you’re a jerk for choosing someone else over me.”

That lands harder than anything said with a gun.

I open my mouth.

Nothing comes out.

Kristy nods.

“Yeah.”

She folds her arms and looks away.

“I spent all night driving around Paradise.”

A beat.

“Tried staying with a friend.”

Another.

“Couldn’t do it.”

She looks back at me.

“Spent most of the night thinking about punching you.”

“Just punching?”

That earns me a glare.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That stupid smile.”

Her voice softens.

“Makes me forgive things.”

That hits deeper than I’m ready for.

Before I can answer—

The apartment door opens.

Rachel steps outside.

Every good feeling in the parking lot dies.

She looks fresh.

Not groggy.

Not confused.

Not weak.

Not like someone who slept almost forty hours.

She looks composed.

Focused.

Like sleep charged her.

Like she’s been somewhere important and simply decided to come back.

Her eyes settle on me.

“It is time.”

Kristy laughs once.

Sharp.

“Oh, hell no.”

Rachel ignores her.

Completely.

She looks only at me.

“She cannot come.”

Kristy steps forward.

“Excuse me?”

Rachel’s expression doesn’t move.

“If she comes…”

A pause.

“She dies.”

Nobody moves.

Nobody breathes.

Kristy doesn’t look at Rachel.

She looks at me.

“She told you I’d die because she knew that was the one thing guaranteed to make you leave me behind.”

Rachel remains perfectly still.

Kristy waits.

Then asks the worst question in the world.

“Well?”

I hate that question.

Because I already know my answer.

And I hate that too.

I look at Kristy Lee.

Then nod.

That’s all it takes.

Her face tightens.

“You chose her.”

“I’m not choosing her.”

“Sure looks like it.”

“I’m choosing you alive.”

“By believing her instead of me.”

“Kris—”

“Don’t.”

She backs away.

Eyes shining.

I move toward her.

“Not whatever,” I say before she can say it.

She stops.

Looks at me.

I swallow.

“I’ve got fifty-two ways to disappear.”

She frowns.

“What?”

“Cash. Guns. Fake names. Backup plans.”

I step closer.

“Fifty-two ways from Sunday.”

Her eyes search mine.

I take another step.

“You’re the first reason I’ve ever had to stay.”

Her lip trembles.

“And the first person I’ve ever wanted to come back to.”

For a moment, she doesn’t speak.

Then:

“Say it again.”

“I can’t.”

“Coward.”

“Probably.”

That earns me the smallest smile.

Then she grabs my shirt and kisses me hard enough to erase every other woman I’ve ever met.

Every other mistake.

Every excuse.

Everything but her.

When she pulls away, she keeps both fists twisted in my shirt.

“Don’t die.”

I touch her face.

“I’ll be right back.”

Kristy shakes her head.

“Men always say that.”

“This one means it.”

She looks like she doesn’t believe me.

But she lets me go.

Rachel climbs onto the back of my motorcycle.

Her arms slide around my waist.

I hate how natural they feel there.

I look at Kristy one last time.

Then kick the bike to life.

And leave.

I make it exactly six blocks before everything I think I’ve settled gets blown straight to hell.

One minute I’m sitting at a red light with Rachel wrapped around my waist like she belongs there.

The next—

A horn blasts hard enough to rattle my mirrors.

Headlights come screaming around the corner.

A red Jeep shoots through the intersection like the driver made peace with death somewhere back around second gear.

Tires shriek.

Rubber burns.

The Jeep slides sideways across all four lanes and stops dead in the middle of the intersection.

Cars slam on their brakes.

Horns explode from every direction.

A delivery van misses the rear bumper by inches.

I’m grinning before I see who’s driving.

Behind me, Rachel’s arms tighten.

Hard.

“Gene.”

Not fear.

Warning.

I shut off the motorcycle.

Rachel’s grip tightens again.

“This is not the way.”

I smile.

“Kinda feels like my way.”

I kick down the stand.

But I don’t get off immediately.

I sit there.

Watching.

Watching Kristy Lee climb out of that Jeep like she was born to make bad decisions.

Her hair is wild.

Her eyes are red.

Her shirt is inside out.

I swear—

I’ve never loved anybody more.

She slams the Jeep door and points directly at me.

“You.”

I climb off the bike.

Traffic keeps honking.

Nobody moves.

Nobody wants to be the idiot who drives around whatever this is.

I start toward her.

“What happened to your car?”

She throws both hands into the air.

“Out of gas.”

I stop.

“You’re kidding.”

“I make it halfway down the block and the engine dies.”

She points toward a side street.

“I coast into a damn fire hydrant.”

A laugh escapes me.

She does not laugh.

“You think this is funny?”

“A little.”

She shoves me in the chest.

Hard.

“I watched you leave.”

Her voice cracks.

“I stood there like some idiot…”

A beat.

“…and watched you ride away with another woman.”

That kills my smile.

Traffic horns blare behind us.

Neither of us notices.

Kristy wipes angrily at her eyes.

“My neighbor picks the worst possible time to come home.”

I blink.

“What?”

She points at the Jeep.

“He gets out carrying groceries.”

A beat.

“He says, ‘Evening, Kristy.’”

Another beat.

“I say, ‘This is an emergency.’”

I look at the Jeep.

Then at her.

“You stole your neighbor’s Jeep?”

She leans close.

“I borrowed it.”

A beat.

“Without permission.”

Fair.

She grabs the front of my shirt.

Eyes locked on mine.

Voice shaking.

“I don’t care what she says.”

Her grip tightens.

“I’m going.”

Behind me, Rachel climbs off the motorcycle.

Kristy doesn’t look at her.

“You are not leaving me here.”

Something in my chest shifts.

Hard.

Because for the first time in my life—

Someone isn’t running from me.

Someone isn’t using me.

Someone isn’t hiding from what comes with me.

She’s choosing me.

Full speed.

Consequences be damned.

Rachel’s voice turns colder.

Sharper.

“There are rules.”

Kristy keeps her eyes on mine.

Waiting.

I’m not smiling anymore.

I’m done pretending this isn’t the easiest decision of my life.

I turn and walk back toward the motorcycle.

Rachel watches me.

Kristy watches me.

I unhook the saddlebags and throw them into the back of the Jeep.

Then I push the Harley toward the curb.

One more piece of my old life.

Not gone.

Just not what carries me forward.

Malachi will find it.

Malachi always finds everything.

Rachel’s voice sharpens.

“You cannot break the rules.”

I look at her.

Smile wide.

“Woman…”

A beat.

“Breaking rules is kind of my defining characteristic.”

Kristy’s grin returns instantly.

“Damn straight.”

The parking-lot lights along the intersection flicker.

Every bulb.

All at once.

Rachel’s face changes.

Not much.

Just enough.

Something dark moves behind her eyes.

Something that doesn’t belong inside a human being.

Then it’s gone.

Her expression settles back into calm.

Purposeful.

Human.

Almost.

Kristy climbs into the passenger seat.

Beside me.

I slide behind the wheel.

Rachel remains in the middle of the intersection while traffic screams around her.

Hands folded.

Eyes unreadable.

Like she’s deciding whether we’re worth saving—

Or simply still useful.

I look back at her.

“You coming?”

She doesn’t answer.

Just opens the rear door and climbs into the back seat.

No emotion.

No complaint.

No smile.

Exactly where I want her.

Behind us.

I slam the Jeep into gear.

Cars honk louder.

Kristy leans out her window and gives one of them the finger.

I laugh—

And join her.

For one stupid, beautiful second—

Everything feels right.

The dashboard clock changes as we reach the edge of town.

The sign rises ahead of us.

WELCOME TO PARADISE.

I pass it doing seventy.

By my count—

Thirty-nine hours.

Fifty-eight minutes.

Two minutes to spare.

Never doubted it.

The sign disappears behind us.

The highway opens ahead.

Dark pavement.

White lines.

California waiting somewhere west.

Then a blue Subaru blows past us on the shoulder.

Enough bumper stickers on the back to start a commune.

Same woman.

Same phone.

Same belief that traffic laws are suggestions for other people.

She swerves in front of us so sharply I have to hit the brakes.

Kristy catches herself against the dashboard.

Rachel doesn’t move.

The Subaru woman raises one hand.

Middle finger high.

Never looks away from her phone.

I stare through the windshield.

“You know her?” Kristy asks.

“We’ve met.”

I pull alongside the Subaru and give the woman the finger.

She doesn’t notice.

Again.

Figures.

The guy behind us leans on his horn.

I give him one through the rear window.

A pickup pulls alongside and the driver shouts something about my mother.

He gets one too.

Then a semi sounds its air horn.

Might as well be fair.

I salute the whole damn highway.

Kristy stares at me.

“What are you doing?”

“Growing.”

“That’s growth?”

“I didn’t blow anybody up.”

She laughs.

Rachel doesn’t.

I point the Jeep west and press the gas.

California waits somewhere ahead.

Kristy Lee sits beside me.

Rachel watches from the back.

And the whole highway can kiss my ass.

I didn’t blow anybody up.

That’s growth.

Take it where you can get it.

The End