2. Mira

2

MIRA

It takes everything in me not to run to him.

Zane's golden hair is glowing in the moonlight. He looks like some mythical creature who crash-landed in this depressing reality. No one like him should be here .

The first few nights I spent on musty motel mattresses and showering in cloudy motel water, I thought the same thing about myself: I shouldn't be here. I spent months in a fairy tale with Zane and Aiden and it made me soft, made me forget the rules of running.

But two incredibly long weeks later, I'm almost back to form. I can now brush a roach off the motel pillow and still sleep like a baby.

A baby who startles at every sound and wakes up screaming from nightmares, that is.

If it's not roaches and mysterious stains testing my sleep, it's dreams of blood and knives and mindless screaming. Every night, I wake up panting and gasping for air. I can never remember if I was the person with the knife or the person running.

Just like in real life, I'm probably both.

Zane cuts across the dark parking lot and jogs up the stairs. Twenty seconds later, I see him on the second floor walkway.

I have no idea how he found me. I thought I was being careful. But here he is.

Again.

The first time he caught up to me was at a truck stop just outside of Albuquerque. I thought I was seeing things. It had been over twenty-four hours since I'd eaten anything and I was standing in line to pay a quarter for a Styrofoam cup I could fill with water from the soda fountain. When I saw him walk past the windows, heading for the bathrooms around back, I thought I was delirious.

But it was really Zane.

It was Zane in Albuquerque and again in Flagstaff. He even picked up my trail in Mesa Verde.

It makes no sense. I use public libraries to read my email, I haven't used my card since I cashed the final check Zane handed me, and I don't stay anywhere for longer than a day.

So I have no idea how Zane is following me so closely.

All I know is I'm grateful Dante isn't as resourceful as Zane. If he was, I'd already be dead.

And if Zane would finally give up, maybe I could bring myself to run farther away. I could put this part of the country and my name in my rearview mirror and never look back. I could forget about my brother's crusade for revenge—for a little while, at least.

As it is, I live for these little glimpses of Zane. Even though I know he's running himself ragged chasing after me. Even though I know I should want him to move on and find some nice, normal girl without a literal skeleton in her closet.

I don't know what I'll do when he stops chasing me.

Zane disappears around the side of the building and I sink deeper into the driver's seat of the clunker I bought with the little bit of cash I still have. I'm parked in a used car lot across the street from the motel. I was on my way out of town when I saw Zane's Ferrari roar past me. I should have kept going, but I couldn't help myself.

Especially after the night I had.

I've taken to sleeping during the day and driving at night. Fewer eyes on me means fewer chances of being recognized. But today, I overslept. I should've checked out of the room a little after five. Instead, I woke up at one in the morning to pounding on my door.

Before I could wake up enough to be terrified, they announced themselves. "I'm with the front desk. You missed check-out. If you don't come out, I'll call the cops."

I must have slept for twelve hours. Maybe more.

It was nice…

Until it wasn't.

I stumbled to the door and the man from the front desk sighed with relief. "You didn't kill yourself. Great. I did not want to deal with that kind of mess again. This room has a history."

When I grabbed my single duffel bag and left, a balding man with a big gut and a redhead in a polyester dress were waiting nearby. They shuffled in right after me, apparently not worried about a change of sheets.

It's probably their door Zane is banging down right now. It doesn't take much imagination to figure out what they're doing in there.

If it wasn't so fucking depressing, I could almost smile at the full circleness of them being interrupted by aggressive knocking. If Zane knocks, that is. Somehow, I doubt it. It's not really his style.

My eyes snap to the corner of the building as a woman ambles towards the main office. She sways back and forth as she walks like she's in imminent danger of falling over. Under the yellow light, she leans against the wall and lights a cigarette.

She's only been there a few seconds when Zane comes tearing around the building where she just came from. He's running like his life depends on it.

I jolt up, hand poised on my keys in the ignition.

Is he being chased? Is he in trouble?

Fuck my cover. I'd blow it in a second if it meant mowing down anyone trying to hurt Zane.

But he's not running from anyone.

He's running towards someone.

More specifically, towards the woman with long, dark hair standing under the only light on the entire street.

My stomach drops. I realize what's happening a second before Zane grabs the woman and spins her around. She screams and Zane stumbles back, hands raised and the look on his face says it all.

He thought she was me.

He was running like his life depended on it because he thought he'd found me .

Guilt slices through me as Zane walks back to his car, head hung low. I live for these little glimpses of Zane, but I don't need to be any closer than I am right now to see the truth: this is killing him.

While he's been chasing me all around the southwestern US, who has been watching Aiden? I sprang for the premium TV package in a motel room the other night to catch the Angels game, but Zane was benched. He didn't play a single minute.

How much longer can this go on before it breaks him?

How many more almost run-ins can we have before our paths finally cross? And then what?

I drop my face into my hands, taking deep, even breaths to keep the tears at bay. Because I know the truth. I've known it since the moment I laid eyes on Zane Whitaker. Since the moment I felt that magnetic draw towards him.

No matter what happens, I can never be with him.

Even if he catches up to me, I'll still have to leave him.

After a few minutes, his car starts.

A few minutes later, he drives away.

I watch until his tail lights disappear behind the horizon.

Then I start my engine and drive in the opposite direction.