Keep Her Safe(81)

“You probably saw twenty gray Civics parked there. They’re everywhere, Gracie.”

“Yeah, but this one had a hundred tree air fresheners dangling from the rearview mirror. It reminded me of my nan’s car. She’d do the same, to try and mask the smell of cigarettes.” She squishes her nose in disgust.

“You’re being paranoid.”

She folds her arms in that haughty way. “Fine. Prove me wrong.”

Three turns later, I realize that I can’t, and my scalp begins to prickle with unease.

All I can make out are two forms in the front, likely male. Who the hell could be following us? And what do they want? “Do me a favor and write down the plate number if you can catch it.”

“And then what are we gonna do? Lead them home?” Her gaze flitters between her side-view mirror and the keyboard on her phone, her brow tight with concentration.

I see the sign up ahead. “I have an idea.”





CHAPTER 37


Grace

The UT campus is crawling with students, book bags slung over their shoulders as they travel between classes. Plenty of others are scattered over the parklike setting, hiding beneath the shade of trees or lying on their backs on grassy patches, tuning out the world and soaking in the afternoon sun with either a book or music pumping through earphones.

“You went here?”

“Best years of my life.” Noah pauses to step behind me, making room for a group of girls to pass while, at the same time, covertly scanning the area around us.

We pulled into the parking lot and watched the gray Civic coast past, the visor strategically positioned to hide the driver from view. All either of us could make out was a faded blue T-shirt and a white man’s biceps, and then they were gone.

“What about you? Have you ever thought about going to college?”

I burst out laughing.

“What? You’ve never even thought about it?”

“No. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but . . .”

“But . . . ?” Again he shifts to the side to allow others to pass, this time setting a hand on the small of my back, steering me toward an elaborate fountain up ahead.

It takes me a moment to remember what we were talking about, his touch distracting. “But that’s it. I’ve thought about it.” Noah doesn’t get it.

My school guidance counselor, Ms. Bracken, didn’t get it either. I remember sitting across from her in her office my senior year. She was holding out a stack of college pamphlets and application forms, thinking she would change my life with a simple conversation. While my grades were far from Ivy League–worthy, she was sure I could get into one of the local community college programs if I applied.

I smiled and accepted the brochures, stuffing them in my backpack. I even let myself indulge in the idea of filling out a form that night. And then I came home to find the needles strewn on the coffee table. Before that it had been all pills.

“I guess I’ve learned to live more day by day.”

“It’s good to set goals for yourself.”

“Trying to keep my mother alive and pay our bills are goals.”

Noah’s face falls in that guilty way it always does when he’s reminded how different our upbringings were. “Well, now you can start thinking about your future.”

My future. That’s not a phrase that was tossed around much when I was growing up. My mom was too busy stuck in the past, and holding me there with her.

“Over here.” He leads me to a retaining wall, and I admire his measured strides, his sleek movements. I take a seat next to him, and try to focus on our surroundings rather than him.

“Wow, now that’s a fountain.” I’ve never seen anything like the elaborate sculpture beside us, of horses charging from the water, ridden by what I’d call mermen, guarded over by soldiers and a goddess. The entire piece is surrounded by a massive pool of water to feed into the jetting sprays.

Noah doesn’t answer, his gaze searching faces.

“Do you think we lost them?”

“I hope so. I don’t know what the hell they want.” With a heavy sigh, he begins fumbling with the leather band around his wrist. His thoughts are elsewhere.

And I remember that I’m not the only one troubled by everything we’ve learned today, so far.

“I saw a sign for a lake back there,” I offer, trying to distract him from his brooding.

“Lady Bird?”

“Sure. Tell me about it.”

He closes his eyes and tips his head back to face the sky. “It’s actually a reservoir from the Colorado River. You can rent kayaks and boats, and all sorts of things. And the Congress Avenue Bridge is there too. Every night in the summer, you can watch over a million bats fly out from their nests underneath it.”

“That’d be . . . cool?” I cringe at the thought.

“It is, actually. If you’re around, we’ll go see it.”

If I’m around. That’s months away. Does he mean still in Austin? Or living in his house, with him?

How long will I be here? It all depends on whether I’d have a reason to stay. My mother will be in rehab for at least one month. Ideally, three, though I can’t let Noah pay for more.

“I agree, the bats are cool,” a male voice says suddenly. I was so busy staring at Noah’s handsome profile that I didn’t notice the man take the spot on the other side of me. He could pass for a student, albeit an older one, in his worn jeans and faded blue Houston Texans T-shirt.