Ignited (23 page)

From what I had spied over his shoulder of the directions, the spot on the map where we were headed was an hour or two east of Lexington, which meant we spent most of the morning backtracking halfway across Tennessee, before slipping north into Kentucky. Shortly thereafter, the Appalachian Mountains appeared ahead and, as we passed over the rolling hills, I almost felt like I was coming home to Boone.

One look at the sign off the interstate shattered that dream.
Morehead, Kentucky, Hardwood Capitol of the World
. It was a small blink-and-you-miss-it kind of town, apparently well-known for their hardwood making abilities, and not much else. They, at least, had a sandwich shop, rolled into a convenience store, rolled into a gas station, where we got gas and food. Sitting at a rusty picnic table overlooking the pumps, we ate in silence. I felt Nathan’s eyes on me, but I kept mine downturned to avoid meeting them. I was that pissed off.

That and I feared I would break down if I looked at him. I didn’t want him to know how much his abandoning me hurt, mostly because I didn’t understand why it did so much. Until I figured it out, I was okay with him thinking I was angry. He expected anger. He was used to it. 

Good thing he didn’t know how my opinion of him had changed over the weeks. I had gone from admiring him my whole life, to hating him after I got to know him, to tolerating him, to liking him, to downright weepy at the thought of this being our last few hours together.

What that suggested wasn’t something I was able to understand yet, let alone try to explain to him. It was easier to avoid him, under the impression that I was mad at him, than face the facts. In a few hours, he would be gone, and I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. He would be out of my life.

I don’t want him out of my life
.

I shut down the pesky voice in my head before she got too pushy. She didn’t get a say in this. Hell, I didn’t get a say in this. It was happening whether either of us liked it or not. 

Once we’d finished eating, I hopped on the motorcycle behind him, eager to have the helmet to hide behind as I struggled to control my emotions. At the red light, waiting to pull out of the parking lot, Nathan lifted his visor and looked over his shoulder.

“It’s about twenty minutes outside of town,” he said.

I nodded my understanding and he turned forward, sliding his visor down. With my arms around him, I felt, rather than heard, his sigh. A tear slipped free and, for a moment, I nearly caved. I wanted to squeeze him and tell him I was sorry for blocking him out, that I didn’t mean any of it. Most of all, I wanted to ask him not to leave.

The light turned green, we took off without another word, and I was left both devastated and relieved at once. Really, I have never been more confused in my life. I was going to need all of the twenty minutes to get a grip.

As the town disappeared behind us, I pushed it all—my thoughts, my feelings, my fears—down deep enough that I could ignore them, far enough that I could pretend not to care, far enough that I didn’t have to figure out what they meant. He was leaving, and then, it wouldn’t matter.

We were deep in the middle of nowhere when Nathan slowed and pulled into the dusty dirt parking lot of an antique gas station, with one lonely gas pump that I doubted was functional from the looks of it. The crooked sign over the front door declared that we were at
Joe’s Country Store
. It didn’t look like anyone, including Joe, had been there in a long time. Standing in the immense lot, staring up at the crumbling shack, I had the sense that Nathan and I were the only survivors of the apocalypse. I expected to see a tumbleweed roll past any moment.

“Don’t tell me this is it,” I said to Nathan as I climbed off the motorcycle.

“No. The safe house is another mile down the road.”

“Then why are we stopping here?” I took off my helmet, hoping the evidence of that lone tear was gone. Nathan didn’t seem to notice. Then again, he barely looked at me.

“I’m not going to drive up to a potential safe house until I know it’s safe.” He concealed the motorcycle around the side of the building, retrieved the two handguns from the storage compartment and tucked them into the waistband of his jeans. He took the bag off my shoulders, swung it over his and, with one last wistful glance at the motorcycle, took off across the parking lot.

Geez, he was more upset about leaving the damn bike than leaving me.

“Don’t worry,” I chirped as I fell in beside him. “If everything works out, you and Old Red will be reunited in a few hours.” I had intended for there to be a drop of sarcasm. It came out saturated in bitterness.

Nathan let it bounce off him. It would seem he was taking the mature approach. I decided to stick to my initial plan to not speak to him at all, and we walked in silence for about half a mile before a farm came into view up ahead. I figured it was our destination and almost asked Nathan, but bit my tongue.

There was a beat and then he said, “Yes, that’s where we’re going.”

I shot him a dirty look. “I didn’t ask.”

“You wanted to. You almost did. I thought I’d help you out since you’re not talking to me. That way you could save face.”

I scoffed like he was so far off base it wasn’t worth a response. 

He laughed harshly. “Oh, come on. You’re not that hard to figure out.” He looked at me coolly. “You’re mad because you think that I’m ditching you? Is that what it is?”

“No.” I wished I could have put a little more oomph behind it but, the truth was, he was dead on.

“Then what is it?” He grabbed my arm and turned me to him.

I tried to avoid his eyes, but I caught a glimpse of stormy blue and lost my resolve. “Actually, that’s exactly what you’re doing,” I snarled. “You told me that you were the only one I could trust, and now you’re going to abandon me with—”

“I’m not abandoning you,” he cut in.

“Then what would you call it?”

He walked away without an answer.

I caught up to him. “See? You can’t even look me in the eye.”

“I can’t stay with you forever, Kris,” he muttered without looking at me.

I nearly tripped over my feet as my world crumbled from beneath me. On some level, I knew he was right. He couldn’t stay with me forever. I shouldn’t expect him to, but hearing him say it sucked all the air out of me and left me feeling...hollow. Instead of showing the pain his words caused, I kicked the attitude up a notch.

“No, I guess fourteen years is long enough,” I sneered.

“You won’t need me anymore.” He kept his voice low and controlled in a way that only infuriated me more.

“I never did need you. I didn’t ask you to do anything for me. You just showed up. What are you doing in my life anyway?” I spit out the question I had danced around for weeks, only to demand the answer now, in anger.

He turned to me, his own temper boiling. “Which is it, Kris? It sounds to me like you don’t want me around, yet you’re mad at me for leaving.” He threw his arms up. “Forgive me for being confused.”

“I’m mad because you forced yourself into my life, practically kidnapped me, told me to trust you, and I did.” I lifted onto the tips of my toes for emphasis. “You’re the one person I’ve trusted my whole life and you’re leaving after everything has been turned upside down.”

I was mad—so mad—but more heartbroken than anything. Something I said must have gotten through, or he noticed I was terrifyingly close to crying, because he softened. A little. He looked like he wanted to say something, and maybe almost did, but thought better of it. Instead, he looked down his nose at me with a shrug that said,
I don’t know what else to do
.

“Forget it.” I spun on my heels and stormed away from him. The tears were coming and I didn’t want him to see. I swatted at an escaped drop before he caught up to me. 

“Kris...”

“I said forget it, Nathan. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will,” he said gently. “And anyway, I’m not leaving until I know you are.”

“Don’t do me any favors. I’ll wait for the army to get here. You can go.” I jutted a thumb over my shoulder.

“It’s not like you think. I’m not ditching you. Once you’re with the others, you won’t need me anymore. You’ll be safer with them.”

“Oh, well, that’s reassuring.” I knew I was being irrational. I also didn’t care. I was upset and mad, and wanted him to suffer my wrath until I got over it.

Which would be never.

Nathan sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

Stay with me
, I thought, but couldn’t bring myself to say the words. He was right. It was just that I had never considered that Nathan’s presence in my life would come to an end. I had come to depend on it. I had come to depend on him. And, quite simply, I would miss him.

That revelation nearly knocked me over and brought an abrupt stop to my furious march. It sobered my anger and left me feeling nothing but sadness. I glanced up at him from under my eyelashes. He must have caught the shift in my mood, because he looked confused.

“You’re right,” I mumbled. “I don’t expect you to stay with me. You caught me off guard, that’s all.”

He nodded as he absorbed my round about apology. The way he stuffed his hands into his pockets made him look younger, almost shy. “So you’re okay with me hovering for a while longer, until I know you’re okay?”

“Sure.” I wanted to tell him he could stay as long as he wanted. Instead, I settled for backing off on the hostility. 

Nathan gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. One corner of his mouth lifted into a small half smile and I had to look away, fast, before I got weepy again. I turned away from him to survey the farm we had walked up on in the midst of our quarrel.

“So, this is it?” I asked him with forced bravado.

Nathan shielded his eyes from the sun with a hand as he studied our surroundings. “Looks like we’re not going to have any cover going in.”

We stood at the end of a long dirt driveway that led to a large white farmhouse, matching three car garage, and barn. Rolling yellow fields hugged both sides of the drive and extended as far as I could see. Another field extended behind the house, and another beyond that. Farm equipment and outbuildings scattered the land, but provided little cover. There was one small cluster of trees, behind the garage.

Regardless of our approach, we would be out in the open, so we went with the most direct route: the driveway. When we reached the widened head of the drive, he angled in the direction of the barn, away from the farmhouse.

“Where are you going?” I whispered as I trailed after him.

He looked at me like I needed my head examined. “The safe house.”

I stared at him for a moment before it clicked. “You have to be kidding me. The safe house is not a barn.”

He opened a side door and glanced at me with a shrug, as if he had simply forgotten to mention that insignificant detail. “I’m going to check it out first. Stay here.”

He disappeared before I could form an argument. I hurried to the door and stuck my head inside. The room I looked into was only a section of the barn, large and dark with no windows. There was a shadow that looked like it might be an overhead loft along the left wall. To the right was a high wide door that probably led to the heart of the barn. There were a few tools that looked to be typical farm accessories.

I saw no sign of Nathan. Wherever he was, the shadows had swallowed him. 

An involuntary shiver ran up my spine, and I stepped away from the door to lean against the outer wall. The massive farmhouse in front of me was a lot less creepy, and it probably smelled a lot better. I stared at it longingly, wishing it were the safe house. Maybe I could convince Nathan to hang out there instead, assuming no one was home.

I looked around for signs of life, suddenly wary of some angry farmer charging outside, demanding to know what I was doing lurking around his barn. There weren’t any cars parked in front of the house. Other than a tractor, I saw no other form of transportation. Of course, the garage doors were closed.

I eyed the building suspiciously, and that was when I saw the front end of a car jutting out from behind it. I edged along the wall, to adjust my line of sight, until my eyes took in the unobstructed view of a silver car.

A mustang. With black accents.

I knew that car. 

“Kris?”

I spun around to the familiar voice behind me.

Alec stood next to the door, dressed in ripped jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair disheveled, his eyes greener and sexier than ever. He looked...like Alec, albeit a very stunned and very confused Alec.

“What are you doing here?” he asked once he’d recovered. Despite his obvious concern, he had an ornery twinkle in his eyes that I doubted ever faded and, if I weren’t mistaken, I’d swear he was secretly glad to see me again.

Dimly, I recalled Nathan’s warning about him. I had never accepted his claim that Alec was a Skotadi and, after seeing him now, I wasn’t any closer to believing it.

“Kris?” Alec gripped my shoulders. “Where’s what’s his name?”

“Nathan? He’s checking out the barn. What are you doing here?”