Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Lara

The sound of the car door closing clears my head.

Shit . . . what was that?

Movement next to me reminds me that I'm not alone.

"Hi. Samantha, right?" I ask with a small, awkward smile.

"Whatever." She barely looks at me but kicks the seat again.

A large hand slaps down on the car window, startling us both. "Behave," Michael orders, pointing at Samantha. "Or it won't be Kaleb you deal with this time, Sam." His voice might be muffled, but it takes nothing away from the threat, and I swallow, anxiety fluttering in my chest.

He's not even mad at me, and I feel bad .

Has he really been following me? Or do we just run the same route? I see some runners but not many. I like running early because everyone's still in bed. That and it gets my daily exercise out of the way.

Once he's happy with her nod, Michael turns his pointed finger to me. "Stay in the car until I come fetch you."

It's not a question, but I nod anyway, happy when his scowl turns into a grin. With a solid nod of his own, Michael turns and walks toward the other two men.

His jacket pulls firm along his broad shoulders. The man's built. His features are similar to the larger man, but his hair is slightly longer and perfectly in place. Had he been out before the fire alarm?

Kaleb's blond hair stands out among the group of brunettes.

A sudden thought hits me.

"Michael's not your boyfriend, is he?"

Sam's face scrunches. "Eww, no."

Why does that make me happy? I can't even get into that thought right now.

"One of the others?" I check.

"No! They're my brothers . . . kind of. It's complicated," she snaps.

Sniffing, I wiggle my warming fingers. Michael was right. It is much warmer in here than out there.

Together, we watch as the three brothers talk to a firefighter. His face is drawn into a stern frown and is as red as his hat .

Cooking accident, again. I roll my eyes.

Sam fidgets beside me, but I stay quiet, not wanting to upset her more. Hopefully, I can return to my dorm soon and sleep the rest of the night away.

First, I got fired from my waitressing job at Lowe's because I wouldn't sleep with my boss—like a married, forty-four-year-old is on the list of things I need. Then I couldn't even sulk in peace because someone can't cook, and to top off my day, I somehow managed to sprain my ankle, only for the hottest guy I've ever met to see.

And, oh yeah, he might be my stalker.

I shiver again, but I'm no longer cold. I try to think back if I've ever seen them running in the morning, but I haven't. Michael's not the type of man you forget seeing.

"Kaleb was joking about following me, right?" My words trail off into a breathy laugh.

Sam tears her attention away from the four men, her eyes piercing me with a glare.

Shit.

I quickly swallow the saliva filling my mouth.

"Of course, he fucking was," she huffs, slumping back into her seat. "Why would he follow a plain Jane like you?" Her eyes drift back to where the brothers stand.

Plain Jane.

Her words hit their mark.

Why would he want a plain Jane like me?

The sound of my mother's voice echoes around inside my head. " No one wants a plain Jane, Lara. Should you be eating that? Have you done your run today? You look like you put a few inches on your waist. Get on the scale." The nickname mocks me, and I suddenly feel twelve again.

My eyes fill with water, and my stomach roils.

Can't this day just fucking end?

Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to extinguish the past. I will myself not to cry, but the corners of my mouth tug down, and tears creep out, wetting my lashes.

My chest rises, and a sob chokes me. I try not to make a sound; it always made my mother worse.

Not that Sam would hear. She's too busy kicking the back of the front passenger seat.

The breath finally escapes through my mouth, leaving only exhaustion behind.

Can we go back in yet?

My teeth sink into my bottom lip to stop the way the corner of my mouth quivers down, but it's no good. Instead, I twist my lips left, then right.

I will not sob in this car! Pushing up, I sit straighter, ignoring the pain that pierces my ankle.

Michael is blurry as I look out, but it's not hard to see the way his face drops. Something in my chest blooms at his obvious concern, but then the car roars to life beneath me, and I realize he wasn't frowning at me.

No, the reason he and Kaleb are sprinting toward the car is the nutty woman sitting in the driver's seat, throwing the vehicle into drive !

Lost in the past, I completely missed Sam climbing into the front.

My body is thrown back into the seat a little as she peels out of the parking lot.

"Uh, Sam?"

The petite blond startles, like she forgot I was even in the car.

I really am forgettable.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, she rolls her eyes but stays silent as the car leaves the parking lot and joins the main road.

I grip the door like my life depends on it because I honestly think it does. Who the fuck taught this girl to drive, Kyle Larson?

I grapple quickly with my seat belt because I don't have a death wish, which is more than I can say for the other woman in this car.

We fly down Ellis Road at what must be twice the legal limit. My stomach roils for an entirely different reason than it did earlier, and as we pass Duke's station, the lights all melting together, I think I might get car sickness for the first time in my twenty-one-year-old life.

Vomiting all over myself and the back seat will definitely push the night over the edge and officially into the "worst night of my life" category.

The tires scream, or was that me? As we take a left so fast that the back of the car swings out, it sways this way and that as Sam tries to regain control before we finally collide with a tree .

A fucking tree!

I look at the passenger's side, where the door curves inward as if the metal is reaching out to me. Thankfully, she managed to slow down a little before we collided. Who knows what would have happened if she hadn't. The popping sound of metal hitting wood plays over and over in my head as I take a mental note of my limbs.

Head— check . Arms— check . Legs—my ankle now feels like it's on fire, but it's still attached, so check .

Gently, I pull at the seat belt where it digs into my shoulder, prying it away slowly. My ribs scream when I breathe in deep.

Better a bruised shoulder and sore chest than a cracked head, I remind myself.

Speaking of brain damage, a loud, obnoxious laugh bursts out of Sam. I can't see her face, but I do see the red on her fingers when she pulls them back from her forehead.

Shit.

"Oh, he's going to love that." She chuckles to herself.

Still stunned at what just happened, I stay quiet in the back seat. Sam starts the car again and continues down the private drive like nothing happened.

I think she's forgotten she's not alone again. But after that show, I'm not about to remind her.

Somehow, this last stretch of road feels longer than the entire drive. That's probably because we're only doing thirty, and there are not many things I wouldn't do right now to get out of this car.

I eye the door handle but shake it off quickly. There's no point in breaking my neck as well as my ankle.

The throbbing gets worse the more I think about it, and I breathe out a shaky breath. God, I hope Michael was right, and it's not actually broken. That will definitely set me back. Even just twisted, I know I will need to be careful for the next few days, but the thought of missing more than one morning run spikes my anxiety.

The idea of falling back into old habits causes a few more tears to fall, and I try to push out the voice telling me I'll get fat and that no one will love me.

Closing my eyes, I take deep, steady breaths, letting my mind fall empty just like Doc Jane taught me in high school. And as my thoughts retreat, I make a note to email her for a chat this week.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Be in this moment , I remind myself.

The voice with harsh words that sounds remarkably like my mother fades further and further away until I'm left with peace. My body slumps back into the seat beneath me, and my muscles feel loose from exhaustion.

With one last heavy breath, I open my eyes, only to immediately scowl .

We've stopped. And I'm alone.

All of my newfound peace quickly leaves me. I'm in the middle of nowhere, injured, just been in a car crash, and now I've been abandoned to die alone.

Panicked, I sit up quickly. It's still dark out, too dark to really see where I am.

The smell of the water says I'm near the town lake. A large wooden cabin on my right is the kind you see in romance films. I know it's cozy and warm without even going inside. There's only one large house on this side of the lake. They really are the Cromwells.

The top floors are dark, while light spills from the ground-floor windows onto the front porch.

The large wooden steps tempt me. Can I knock? Force my way inside and demand she take me home? No, definitely not that. I'm never getting in a car with her again.

Twisting in my seat, I peer out of the back window, but the light only reaches so far, and other than the start of the dirt road we came down, the only things visible are a handful of huge trees. The darkness reaches out, trying to engulf that too.

The blackness beyond the first few trees is starting to creep me out. The stillness of the night is a stark reminder that I'm out here alone. Anything could happen, and no one would know.

Decision made.

Shifting in my seat, I tug the door handle and step out of the car .

Big mistake.

My leg crumples beneath me, and pain ricochets from my ankle up my leg and back down again, where it settles.

I cry out as my weight falls forward, but I refuse to end this awful night by face-planting on the ground. Twisting, I grab the doorframe to save myself, but it just reminds me of the damage the seat belt did to my shoulder.

Pain.

That's all I feel. My ankle, my shoulder, my ribs, my pride.

Can this night just fucking end?