Written with You (The Regret Duet #2)(44)

He looked down at them, lifting one into his line of sight, and let out a boomed curse as he hit the accelerator.

“He’s a fucking psychopath,” I panted. “We need to go the police. Lock his ass away forever.”

“Okay, okay,” Trent whispered, raking a shaking hand through the top of his hair. “Let’s think about this for a second. We gotta be smart here. This is some heavy shit.”

“There’s nothing to fucking think about! We gotta go to the cops.”

He banged his hand down on the steering wheel. “There’s a shit-ton of stuff to think about! You’re fucking fifteen. They’ll send you to foster care.”

I stared at him with my mouth gaping open. “You think I give a fuck if they send me to some group home? It’d be a damn vacation.”

He shook his head. “No. I won’t let that happen. We need to buy some time. I’ve got a friend we can stay with tonight. How much money do you have?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five hundred bucks.”

“Okay. Okay. We’ll do this right. We can pack our stuff and leave.”

I leaned against the door, my body twisted to face him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Our father is a murderer! Who do you think is going to help us in this town once they learn this shit? No one. Fucking no one.” His wild gaze flicked to me for only a second. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to take you to work. Finish your shift and then see if you can get your last paycheck. If they say no, take that shit out of the register. I’ll do the same, and then tonight, we’ll go to the police. But I’m telling you, we gotta be ready to go as soon as this shit hits the news.” He reached over and grabbed my neck. “He’s done. We’ll make sure of that. But I’m going to take care of you. That’s what Mom would have wanted, right?” When I didn’t reply, he repeated, “Right?”

I swallowed hard and then ruined the lives of forty-eight people and their families. “Right.”





WILLOW


I don’t remember stirring the entire night. At some point, Caven had left, because when I woke, I was alone in a dark room, the two chocolate-brown curtains excelling at their job.

I rolled over and grabbed my phone off the nightstand to see what time it was.

Ten. Shit, how had I slept so long? I wasn’t exactly an early riser, but my internal clock had been set at eight thirty for years.

A text notification on my home screen caught my attention, and when I opened his thread, I had to scroll up through a series of messages I’d missed while sleeping.



Caven: Maybe you were right.



It was followed by a GIF of elephants running free in the wild. My heart lurched as I bolted upright in bed, praying that meant what I thought it did.



Caven: Hi, my name is Caven. Pronounced like Gavin, but with a C. Not like Kevin. Or the cave bats live in. Anyway. This might sound strange, but I saw you the other day, dragging a massive recycling bin to the curb. And I honestly thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen—and obviously ecologically conscious too. I was wondering if you would consider letting me take you to dinner on Sunday night?



My lungs burned as I stared down at my phone, the smile on my face so wide I probably looked like a maniac. But I didn’t care one bit. He was giving me the second chance I never thought I’d have. My vision swam as I typed out a reply.



Me: Wow. This is strange. Who gave you my number?



His reply was almost immediate.



Caven: I bribed it out of a contractor who was in your backyard ripping out the majority of your studio. He looked scared, like someone had threatened to sue him for doing a botch job on your plumbing.



My already huge smile stretched wider.



Me: First screwing up my studio then doling out my personal information. It’s possible that he is the worst contractor in history.

Caven: Well, according to a complaint filed at the Better Business Bureau this morning, he is the worst contractor in history. But what do you say to dinner tomorrow night?

Me: Oh, I don’t know. You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Caven. I’ll need to know a little more about you before I can decide.

Caven: Okay. Let’s see. I’m 33. Never married. I have a 4-year-old daughter who is my entire world. I used to work in technology, but now, I own a private investing firm with my best friend. Though I’ve taken some time off recently to spend time with my daughter. My favorite color is currently red. I have one tattoo. I’m obsessed with R.K. Banks art. Oh, and you know that actor Ryan Reynolds?

Me: Oh my God, yes! Please tell me you look like him.

Caven: No, but we have the same color hair.



I burst into laughter, my heart swelling beyond anything I could have imagined.



Me: You sound like a real catch.

Caven: I am. And you want to know the best part? I come with exactly zero baggage. What about you? Any baggage I should know about?

Me: Nope. No baggage. I’m an unemployed mule.

Caven: How do you feel about elephants?

Me: That they belong in the wild.

Caven: Great. No baggage. No elephants in the room. Just two strangers. Meeting for the very first time over dinner. Sound good?