Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
I wanted to laugh, but breathing hurt too much.
Getting into that beast of a truck felt like scaling a cliff face with no harness. Ira helped as gently as he could, but it was still slow, awkward, and painful. By the time I was in the seat and the door closed behind me, I was sweating through the scrubs.
He climbed in behind the wheel, started the engine, and gave me a quick glance. “We clear?”
I looked around warily. “Looks like it.”
“Good. You owe me a peach cobbler because the nurse was going to bring me one tomorrow, by the way.”
I turned my head carefully. “Wait, what nurse?”
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “Kaitlyn. She’s the granddaughter of my friend Leonard. I gave her two thousand dollars and swore on my collection of Civil War canteens that I wouldn’t mention her name if we got caught. She gave me your meds and some tips on how to make it through the first two days without killing you by accident.”
My heart squeezed.
“That’s a lot to ask of her.”
“I know, but it’s not about her. It’s about you, and you need to be alive.”
I stayed quiet for a long while after that, saying nothing as I stared out the window. The streetlights blurred past, one after another, casting fleeting glows across my face. Pain kept me grounded, a constant throb beneath the surface, while adrenaline pushed me forward, refusing to let me stop.
Eventually, he asked, “Where are we going, exactly?”
“Mississippi,” I sighed, my head against the window. “I need to go back to the bayou cabin. I know some raccoons who’ll be thrilled to see me.”
He chuckled. “Raccoons, huh?”
“They like sardines and wieners,” I drawled, half-conscious. “We’ll need to stop at a store because I also need clothes. Real ones. And underwear.” That last part was vital to me because I didn't want to live for however long without panties and bras. It was awkward enough being naked under the scrubs.
Ira nodded seriously. “Sardines, wieners, and fresh threads. I got it covered.”
I let my eyes close, and despite everything, a small smile tugged at my lips. We were on the run again—but this time, I wasn’t doing it alone.
By the time Ira parked the truck just off the old trail leading to the cabin, the sun was already climbing toward its mid-morning peak. Light streamed through the trees in warm, golden shafts, catching the moss hanging from the branches and setting it aglow. The air was thick and still, humming with the low buzz of insects and the distant call of birds waking to the late morning heat.
That was enough of me feeling poetic. It'd been a long drive. Between avoiding highways, taking backroads, and making a couple of quiet stops for supplies, we’d burned through most of the night. My body felt like one huge bruise stitched together with surgical tape and frustration, but knowing the cabin was close filled me with something like relief.
“I should be the one pushing the wheelchair,” I mumbled as Ira pulled out the folded-up chair, already stacking bags filled with sardines, wieners, some random cans of beans, and clothes I could only hope weren’t tie-dye next to it.
“You can be the one pushing it next time,” he replied, opening the door on my side. “Right now, your job is to stay in one piece.”
I grimaced as he helped me into the chair. “I feel bad making you do this. You’re—”
“Don’t say ‘old,’” he warned.
I grinned up at him. “I was going to say, ‘impossibly spry for a man who claims to be retired.’”
“Much better.”
Ira turned the chair onto the trail, and I immediately cringed at how bumpy the ground was. Branches scraped at our path, and the occasional sharp jolt of uneven dirt reminded me of every bruise I had.
“Just watch out for snakes,” I warned, trying not to let my teeth chatter with the jolts.
“The snakes better watch out for me,” Ira said confidently. “I’ve been wanting a new belt and a matching watch strap.”
The image that conjured made my shoulders shake with a laugh—followed by a sharp twinge in my ribs. “You’re evil,” I groaned, clutching my side.
“Yet you’re smiling.”
The cabin finally came into view, nestled against the edge of the bayou like it had been waiting for me all this time. I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“I should warn you,” I suddenly said as Ira wheeled us closer. “There’s only an outside toilet.”
He didn’t flinch. “You think that bothers me? Reminds me of my childhood and the good ol’ days.”
That made me laugh harder. “You’re actually enjoying this.”
“Gabriella, this might be the most fun I’ve had since my youngest grandkid superglued my shoe to the kitchen floor. And that was a great day.”
I didn’t know what to say to that—so I didn’t say a word. I decided to let myself enjoy the moment. The bizarre comfort of Ira’s presence, the half-wild sounds of frogs and cicadas rising into the dusk, the smell of moss and earth and old wood as he pushed me up the ramp and opened the creaky cabin door like it was his own.